Sunday, January 12, 2014

“Are you paralyzed with fear? That’s a good sign. Fear is good. Like self-doubt, fear is an indicator. Fear tells us what we have to do. Remember one rule of thumb: the more scared we are of a work or calling, the more sure we can be that we have to do it.”
-Steven Pressfield

You know when something hits you in the gut?

That feeling when you read something and it reverberates throughout your entire being as it bounces off the deepest corners of your soul sending echoes through your heart.

Yeah, this quote kinda sorta did that.

Every time I write I’m terrified.
I’m terrified that no one else will understand what I’m talking about.
I’m scared that someone out there will think that I do this for attention. That all the black marks I toss out there are for a selfish need for validation…and I’m terrified that they are just exactly that.

I’m scared that I’ll be left alone clutching this cold empty fear to my chest.

Writing exposes who I am, it lets you all get to know me and all my quirks, and that is scary.

Because I’m not very balanced and not a single one of my friends has ever used normal as an adjective to describe me.

I write too much, and apologize too much, and read too much, and think too much, and take too many pictures, and worry too much, and I’m too idealistic. I am both too sure of myself and not at all. I am wracked with insecurity and prideful all at the same time. I somehow marry the very worst of opposites in this five foot ten frame.

At all the wrong times I seem to leap before I look and then take too long looking so I never even leap.

I’m a living paradox, a walking contradiction, a breathing antilogy, an antithesis with a glasses.

What makes me think that anyone would care what I have to say?

But I keep writing anyway…

Because I cling on tightly to this ridiculous idea that I have words that no one else does. That my life and experience and perspective have given me something that no one else ever has or ever will have. I clutch at the idea that I was created to be and do things that will somehow make a difference.

Maybe I’m crazy for believing in just a ridiculous idea, but you know, I’ve never exactly been known for being normal anyways.

And I'm sorry if this doesn't make sense my brain and head is still a little foggy from waging war against the microbials that decided to take up residence in my body this weekend.

Now I'm going to go and listen to the Frozen soundtrack.

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