Oh, I remember this feeling.
That fraudulent feeling,
That impostor syndrome,
That “look at you, all narcissistic with your fancy words” feeling.
This is why we stop writing,
Or at least why I did
Even after struggling to begin.
If you’re struggling with this,
Please, remember that you don’t have to quit
You’ve come so far already. And I am so proud of you.
It’s all part of the process.
So, how do we get through it?
We let it be.
We stop attacking ourselves.
We explore the feeling,
Tip-toe through the moss
Brush aside the cobwebs
Of the long-abandoned mansions
In our heads-
Without breaking beneath the weight
Of our own inner critic.
By realizing that avoiding the process
Of being shattered
Does not spare us pain after all.
Acknowledging that we will always break
But we will always be back for more
But this time I’ve got you,
And you have me.
To open these forsaken doors
And we’ll eat that key, eventually.
We will not be abandoned
If we do not abandon ourselves.
This time we can heal on our own
But with each other, if we choose
This is a safe place to experience those feelings
As artists and as humans
To just be together
Sitting with our insecurities,
Sitting with our monsters
And not judging or criticizing each other
By how deep the creatures roam
Or by how prevalent they are
Our afflictions need not be a competition.
Our perceived atrocities
Do not have the mouths to ask us
“Please, look at me.”
And we call it ‘anxiety’.
And the more we run,
The scarier they become.
Only to find that what we saw as protruding fangs
Is actually the arm
Of our shadow companion
Extending to us
The other half of a jagged wishbone.