Insecure

I wish I had a talent for music or writing. Any talent. The kind of way that makes you stop and pause. Something that makes you feel. If I can make my art real, my life could mean something to someone other than me. I lose all my motivation when I think I'm not good enough, not talented enough to keep that interest in rotation. "There will always be someone better," and it's true. It's strange because I'm also not trying to be the best; I just want to be noticed in my effort.

 Whatever that quote is, "The comparison to another is the thief of joy." I try to remind myself of that. Can't say that I've found it helpful, but I give myself a little more grace. I write the way I speak, jumbled and constantly jumping from topic to topic. I guess that's just how my brain is wired. (Sorry)

Sometimes, I feel like I have so little substance as a human being. Like, I'm not interesting enough; I don't have incredible or fun stories to share. I'm a couch potato with no life. I have aspirations, but at the same time, they feel small and not worthwhile. At least, not enough to vocalize. On that note, I feel like my life isn't bad enough to complain but not good enough to be complacent. So I opt to just complain about my personality, my struggle to find motivation every day. 

I think that's why I turned to this. There's a chance people could see it, but not enough to where I feel nervous to have someone judge me. I feel like I can exist in my own corner here. I want to be seen and heard, but I fear people will hate who I am. I'm always told there is going to be a hater for everything. I know, and truly, I don't want everyone in the world to like me. I just want to be likable. I don't want to have to try so hard in every social interaction. Scared I'll say the wrong thing or be too weird. I love a lot, and joy is not a scarce resource for me. I love to laugh, and I love to be grateful. I do have good qualities, and I'm really trying to get in control of my bad ones.

Anyways, Writing all this never seems to help; it only manages to make me more insecure now that I see all my trivial problems written down. All I see is a big baby whining about not being able to help themselves. Therapy is expensive, but spacehey blog posts are free :p