Crazy Writer Time #2: The Möbius Strip

Sometimes Self-Doubt walks in unannounced and I am forced to take it in with reluctant open arms. I don’t even think about it anymore, it just happens. My crazy writer mind can be overactive. Surprise, surprise. When this happens, my thoughts go through more mutations than a gene.

So quickly and so many in fact, there aren’t enough words to describe them all. I feel defeated, like every single person I know, including my parents who are sworn to love me ‘til death do us part, is lying to me about the good things in my life. The extremely insecure teenaged girl I was in high school comes out and all of a sudden I wave my hands and surround people with eggshells. Eggshells are everywhere, like a floor covered in lava and having only a couch as a sanctuary, and I don’t know where to go with my words because these words, once innocuous, are now daggers in recipients’ hearts and I don’t even know why.

So I start to question every little thing about myself. Ridiculous, I know. Not healthy in the realm of self-love. I sstart to ssecond-guess myself and dive deep into existential ponderingss. (And apparently start sounding like a snake too. *shivers*) It’s like a depressive moment that makes me pause, so I stare blankly (there’s that snake again) and look like I don’t care, when really, I care so much I’m like a barnacle. Then it becomes a sickly cycle when I’m afraid I’ve offended someone by looking like I don’t care, when I wish they could hear my lightning mutating thoughts and know what was going on internally and just know, that I DO CARE. I care more than they will ever know. I feel like I should say something, but instead, I do nothing.

So Self-Doubt wins every time and this moment just gets filed away in the back of my brain to be revisited at some other moment when Self-Doubt walks in unannounced and I am forced to take it in with reluctant open arms…

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