I gave up…


I got angry.

I got hurt.

I got reflective.

I gave up.

But the fire still burned in my chest, the desire of words to escape from me. The need to put pen to paper. The lust to share my thoughts with the world.

It engulfed me, burning away everything (except my own self-doubt) and leaving me with…

what?

It should be an interesting journey from this point on.

Rebuilding and figuring it out.

The hurt is gone. The anger stays.

The self-doubt still claws at me to stay down and never reach for the stars because I’m not good enough.

But, if I don’t try, the self-doubt will be the least of my problems.

I won’t live with regret.

I will trudge on.

Or…

Something like that.

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