I never thought I'd be the one waiting for an acceptance to tell me I was good enough.
I never thought it possible to think about quitting writing.
I never believed I would deviate from my path.
I never believed how much I struggle now just to keep going.
I wonder how many people have walked away never to return.
I ponder just how many of the people that left, were truly wonderful.
I just keep thinking it won't last forever. I tell myself I have felt like this before that EVERYONE has felt like this before. It doesn't make me feel as good as it should.
When was fun measured by acceptance? I don't know. Writing is still fun but I am beginning to think of it in terms of how much editors enjoy what I write. I don't let strangers dictate any OTHER aspect of my life so why this one?
I think I was better as a teenager than I am now but the logical part of me insists it isn't true. I was more confident, cocky as a teenager and I honestly see that as the difference. Then, a rejection meant they didn't see just how awesome I was. Now, a rejection is seen as them pointing their fingers at me and quietly willing me to drop my pen.
So much of my time is wasted by measuring myself against this standard of acceptance. Maybe the acceptance I should be seeking is what I give myself. My inner critic is the harshest voice I have ever known. If someone silences me, it will end up being me. This realization, however, doesn't make it easier.
What if I woke up tomorrow and told myself I was an excellent writer? What if I forget the steps and just move to the rhythm? What if I forget what anyone else thinks and just make a great, beautiful tangle of words and sound?
What if I am the most scared that I will, someday, be as good as I want to be?
Perhaps I think too much...