Bruh.
I write and write but am i anything? What if my writing is as flawed as me? What if i am as worthless in the medium i try to show myself as? I am ignorant if i am genuinely good or bad. My mind deceives me all the time, I can’t say anything about my work but what if it is as garbage as i am? What if it is since its source is from garbage. Food found in the garbage can, is garbage after all.
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What if i get criticised or ridiculed from the words that birthed from my soul?Does that mean i am nothing? What if i am unseen for my work? Would that mean my inner world is as invisible as the outer world? What if what i write is just words?! Just some stupid words you see on the fucking screen?! I write it with all my fucking heart and soul but what if it doesnt matter? What if it is just like all those other online literature pieces you all find out there??? What if my words were ridiculed or criticized or attracted all the negative things?Won’t they hit my soul too? It is terrifying , to put it out there and have an invisible audience judge you as i feel stripped naked and dipped in gasoline. One word will feel like it would get me fucking burned. I know i need to take criticism to improve but how much brave should i have to be to show everyone my heart and my soul to be judged, laughed,ridiculed,praised or abandoned?
