The hustle and frustration. Sometimes I'd like to think that it is because I overextend myself. And I do. I commit to anything interesting, anything exciting and creative. I convince myself it is where I need to be, it will help me center, to focus on the things I love. And it does. But for a moment, and then it falls into the piles of other ruinous attempts that are left for the new and exciting things to commit to now. Followthrough. That's the real rub, isn't it? Today is an obvious one, because it is reminding me that I haven't written in two days. Failure. I think about it, I work on it in my head. But that is not enough. It isn't. Because I work on things in my head ALWAYS. Those things don't translate into reality. Is it fear that I am laden with? Too careful, too critical, not open, but simply delusional in imagining my offerings to the world - if only the gatekeeper would let them free. I am the gatekeeper. Better to not know, right?
Fear. Of rejection. Of acceptance. Of criticism. Of the confirmation of a lacking self worth. Of indifference.
It doesn't matter. It shouldn't matter. We live in a world who cares for a hot minute, and that's all they can afford. The next hot minute is only a hot minute away. Worst case scenario is it doesn't matter. And that doesn't matter either. And I don't think I can take that.