If only I could string together a few more thoughts for a bit longer I might be able to create something worthy of praise.
It’s hard to say something positive about oneself. It always feels like unworthy bragging. As if I’m telling other people how great I am while I’m lying and painting fabrications over what’s real. Yet deep down I’m holding a secret thought, “maybe this isn’t completely terrible after all.”
How do you gain confidence in your own work when you haven’t actually done anything?
Yes, of course, just keep going until you do. The motivation should be the want and desire. Grappling with the fear of realizing I am actually a failure and not actually good at anything is kind of a hard consolation prize to accept.
Praise is a fickle and inconsistent mistress. She runs her finger along my shoulder as she walks by me. Her lips curve into a smirk as she looks over my shoulder. When she lets a few kind and whispered words breathe against my ear they feel so sweet and make me shiver. I can only watch her as she walks away and disappears into the distance, never knowing if I’ll see her again.
I’m not sure what is worse though; writing something I feel pride in and having it trashed or hearing nothing at all.
This isn’t really anything of any point or purpose, simply pouring some thoughts onto the street and hoping they don’t fill up in my cup again. Fear of failure. Lack of confidence. Crushing doubt. Humility. All that and a little bit of caffeine.
For love, success and all the other things I lack I further seek until I die. Let them blow their kisses from a distance. Let them toy and tear at my soul. I will never stop following their tracks. No matter the path I’m taken, no matter how my age grows old.