I'm still wondering ...
I've grown bad habits ...
I'm not a writer but a dabbler with words ...
I'm not writing, I'm scribbling words together like a broken child ...
I admit that I have problems with my self-confidence. It was already visible to those who can read between the lines.
I don’t know how to write correctly. I do not know how to write like professionals do. I do not know how to write like writers do. I do not know how to write at all.
Who am I ?
I’ve got to chance my habits. I’ve got to chance my bad habits. I’ve got to chance my style. I’ve got to chance everything I used to write.
I’ve got to learn. I’ve got to listen. I’ve got to learn how to write. I’ve got to learn to listen how to write. I’ve got to chance my self.
I have no style. I have no good writing. I have no experience in writing. I have no reason to be good at all.
Who am I ?
I must take those advices. I must heed these advices. I must listen to the counsel. I must chance my writing.
Why did I began writing at all ? Me - who is a bad writer. Me - who will never be a good writer. Me - who will never suceed. Me - who will never create stories that are perfect.
Only perfect stories are good. Only perfect stories are good enough. Only perfect stories will be without criticism. Only perfect stories will make me free.
I want to be free. I want to be free to write like I want. I want to be free from criticiism. I want to be perfect.
I must perfect to be free. I must be perfect to be good. I must be perfect to be standing above it all. I must be perfect if I don’t want to have to heed the critics.
I have no self-consciousness. I have no self-esteem. I have no faith in myself. I have no trust in my self. I don’t know how or who I am.
I must grow skin - like a mussel that grows a Pearl - like a mussel that conceals a grain of sand inside a pearl in order not to be hurt from the inside. I must grow a pearl from my shattered glass I still carry in my in side ... I must grow a skin of a pearl in order to conceal the broken glass I still carry in my soul. I must grow a pearl from the fear to be hurt from the inside.
My self-esteem was early shattered into tiny, sharp pieces of glass - I still carry them inside my soul - I must grow skin - or transform them - because I must keep them from hurting me from the inside - like sharp broken glass lies in the inside - forcing me to bleed from the inside - every time I am hurt on the inside - like bleeding glass lying in a wound - like a glass forcing me to bleed from the inside - scattered in an un-healed wound. I must heal my wound. I would have died. My soul is fractioned. I am bleeding. Every time someone hits me. The shattered glass thrusts itself into my heart. I must bleed. I will be bleeding. Until I’m gone.
I’m looking for healing. I’m looking for peace. I’m looking for freedom. All of my liife.
Now, I’m localizing the pieces. I must carry them away. My hands will bleed while carying the glass - but it will be the last time. I am ready to carry them away. I am ready now to carry them into their own grave. My self-esteem is no more. I must rebuild my inner self. I must reconstruct my self-consciousness. I must re-construct my self-confidence. I must re-construct my self-esteem. I must heal my soul.
Now I’m at the End. Now I’m at the Beginning. Now I am at the beginning of a new age. I must return to my self. I must re-turn to my inner self again. To re-gain consciousness. To re-gain self-consciousness. To re-gain self-confidence. To regain self-esteem.
Who am I ?
