I don't want to write today. In fact, it's probably the last thing I want to do. I don't really want to write ever again.
I feel discouraged. I feel disappointed. I feel overwhelmingly sad, like I'm mourning something. And I think what I'm mourning is my dream.
My whole life I wanted to be a writer.
It's not going to happen.
Blah, blah, but I'm already a writer, blah blah.
It's not going to happen in any way that matters. What's the point? My blog could disappear tomorrow, and maybe three people would notice. And if you're one of those three people, sorry. But we can just talk somewhere else. We probably already do.
I'm not good enough. I'm not interesting enough. I'm not special.
I'm never going to be loud. I'm never going to show up and be in people's faces. I'm just never going to be that person.
And I thought I had talent. And I thought that it was enough that I had talent. And it's not, even if I do.
I'm sad. And I need to let the dream go. I'm never going to be somebody. All I'm ever going to be is someone who helps other people be somebody.