...

Writing is hard.

Writing thoughts and feelings is harder.

I've just turned my phone off, I have a vinyl spinning (Stomachaches by Frank Iero and the Cellabration), and I have absolutely no idea what I want to do.

I think I'd like to work on my comic. Or something fun.

I don't know why I'm implying working on my comic isn't fun. It is. It just feels like a lot of pressure.

I know the kind of story I want to tell, but I have this constant doubt that it just won't turn out.

I, like many, suffer from imposter syndrome. I don't often know how to celebrate my achievements. I think of all the shit I've managed to do that I never thought I could, and then I remember my room is never clean.

I keep taking pauses to stare off into space. To already think about edits to this before its finished.

For a place that I planned to word vomit into, I'm doing a whole lot of deliberating.

I keep worrying that maybe I'll never grow beyond the box I've been in for longer than I can remember.

I leave it. I try to leave it often. I haven't exactly abandoned it for a new one. I don't think I know how.

I guess we all have our boxes we don't quite know how to leave behind.

I hear a lot that if something scares the shit out of you to do, you should do it.

Sometimes I wonder if there is no greater meaning to the fear of completion. Fear tells you something. For me, it tends to be exaggerated. Not to be entirely, blindly trusted.

I find sometimes that there is almost this deification of fear. If it is to be beared, it must be some spiritual signal that transformation exists on the other side.

I guess that's true. A lot of times though, it really isn't. It's just a feeling, like any other.

Another box to try and escape, because having to feel it sucks.

I'll grin and bear it, I guess.