I am disappointed.
Or maybe just frustrated.
But disappointment is a far more familiar feeling.
I shouldn't feel pressured to be constantly...going...yet, I am.
Keep writing. Keep studying. Keep practicing. Keep...breathing....
Sometimes it all become to much, and I give up for just a second.
Stop thinking about new ideas. Stop trying to do better. Stop...caring...
And then, I am disappointed.
Disappointed in myself.
It's a sadly familiar feeling.
Closely followed by the feeling of never being good enough.
But there's nothing I can do about that is there? It's permanently embedded in my psyche.
I just need to try and overwhelm that disappointment...
...with acceptance.
That I am not, and will never be perfect.
That it's not possible to do absolutely everything right.
Then maybe, the disappointment and the expectations won't be so crippling. And I won't feel like Atlas, lifting the weight of the world, and holding it on my shoulders.
Maybe, one day, I'll feel...free...
Wouldn't that be...blissfully idealistic.
I'm not an idealist. Never have been. Which is why I can only hope that the weight just gets a little lighter, a little more bearable.
Disappointment is a familiar feeling.
Maybe one day it won't be.