You are afraid.

“You are afraid to be beaten, to show up unprepared, and to lose in the only game you were winning in. You hate it. You suffer from a creative constipation and you don’t know how to get rid of it. It carries an unwanted feeling that itches inside, and the ticking of the clock reminds you that it can fly right between your eyes. You don’t want to give up. You don’t want to settle for less. Because you know you can do this. You know that when you stumble, you can rise up again. You don’t want to pressure yourself, so don’t. Everybody makes mistakes. Everybody learns the hard way. You need to set it all free. Remember the days when everything around you inspires you. Remember every little detail of your favourite song, or movie, or book. Remember everything that once inspired you. Because I’m telling you, if you don’t show your ass up tomorrow, or if you show your ass up tomorrow with an unfinished or not memorized speech, I can guarantee that you will regret it your whole life. Do things your future self will thank you for. Isn’t that what you used to tell yourself when you were feeling so lost? So go and do it. You cannot just sit there and wait for the perfect moment to happen to you. Go ahead and make it. Be resilient. Be confident. There’s no one else I know that can do this but you.”

Shizama Utami, “A letter I wrote to myself”

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Metaphors

I’m made up of broken pieces.
I’m emotionally fragile, intricately made. Most of the time I wipe my tears off using the back of my hand, and I lock my true self away in the back of my mind. My vessels have question marks streaming inside them to feed my self-curiosity. I tend to get hurt a lot. I tell them that I don’t take things personally. That I’m not the kind of person who jumps to conclusions. Because who would want that, right? I know. No one. But deep down in my restless nights and my shattered thoughts, I really am that kind of person. A really horrible, emotionally unstable person.
I am very tortuous.
I’m a girl obsessed with words that form despicable feelings. That’s why I read and write a lot. It takes me to worlds which are not mine. I long for the exploration of the ideas that other people have.
I’m an ocean full of secrets.
My definition of happiness varies in the depth of the situation I’m in. I drown people with all the love I give. I get jealous easily and I lose my self-esteem whenever I see my ocean treasures floating away from me. The burden I feel is like when I remove stickers and/or price tags from my prime possessions, and it leaves a mark. That also reminds me that everything I have now wasn’t always mine.
I feel things I shouldn’t be feeling. I think of thoughts they told me not to think about. I fall in love with words instead of people. I’m both very stubborn and really obedient. But I’ve already told you, it depends on the situation.
Sometimes my way of thinking is all about self-hate.
However, I wouldn’t go to the deeper part of this article to rant about how I loathe myself. Well, I was about to. But I changed my mind. I admit that I’m not physically and mentally perfect. I have flaws encased in my personality that travels with me like a luggage I carry. I’m the connotation of complicated, but that’s just who I am. I’m walking down a familiar path full of autumn leaves. I’m still trying to find my old self again. This new one requires taking multiple leaps of faith. I’m going to abolish my darker thoughts that will soon cease to exist. I will bloom, I will rise, I will soar.

. . .and I’m starting to think that maybe, just maybe, this time I’m going to be enough.

(image found on http://wht-u-see.blogspot.com/2012/04/rainbow.html)