Seeds of Doubt

In life we are presented with countless obstacles in our everyday lives. A good sum are physical and can be simply swept aside, but what about those which are part of us? The ones ingrained in our minds, always present, nagging and gnawing at every little thing we do.

Every time I lift a pen, there it is. As I try to nurture a seed of inspiration, all around it weeds sprout faster than they can be pulled. The very tool that allows me to weave and carve a story into existence becomes the bain of my existence as it runs wild. My imagination is the root of all my doubts and fears with the exception of a select few of which are the off spring of another monster. Regret. 

When these two converge it creates an intimidating cocktail that has left me laying awake late for many a night powerless but to sit and watch the unrated horrors that explore every facet of any situation where anything that could conceivably go wrong, most definitively will.

I was not always like this. As with every other child, there was a point when I could not see past lunch and nothing seemed to carry any weight upon my small shoulders. So what was it that brought about my very first seed of doubt? Maybe it was one of my sisters. Maybe one of the countless bullies that dotted my life to this very day, but I maintain a great amount of suspicion toward the fact that my parents along with my teachers found it not only recommended but necessary for me to repeat the first grade. Not only has the realization that the adults in my childhood doubted my abilities to learn and excel, but the repercussions of this decision caused so much grief that it seems impossible it has not had a major influence on who I am. By no means am I bitter about this decision, it simply brings about a variety of emotions that I will fail to put into words.

Even with all my struggle I consider myself lucky. I am addiction free, with no reliance except the basic needs of survival for any living creature. There are some people who unlike the rest, struggle with with what is built into their DNA. People whose outsides do not reflect what goes on inside, people whose slight worries swell irrationally to the point where it consumes them and their doubts become so real to them their bodies and minds project them unto the world.

The End

3 comments about this work Feed