self doubt is a niggle of a thing, it disrupts you, violates you. it’s the mold on the crust of bread, it’s the maggot in your meal, it’s the thing that’s gotten hold of a thread and starts to choke you with it.
it’s gentle at first, like it’s teasing you, like it’s only a joke, but you turn to it, acknowledge it and then, well, you might as well bear with it, ride it through. it’s like a virus or stomach cancer, either you get over it or get done by it.
(there were times where the panic was so strong that i had to lock myself into rooms and lock the windows because i was fucking convinced man, i was fucking sure and i knew i didn’t know shit, i knew i was just imagining the worst man, i was seeing fucking ghosts was all, but i couldn’t let it go, the fucking lies i have heard come out of the least expected people, its fucking drained me and i would turn on the radio and the tv and crack open a book, do a fucking puzzle, shit i would even jerk off and on and off again until i would fucking forget about it but i just couldn’t man until i just sat in the dark and thought up some other sick shit instead like dying like watching the thoughts go out like fireflies one by one and i couldn’t stand that shit, still can’t, and that’s how i got the maggots out of my head man. just by thinking of something far worse than how fucking ugly i really was.)