Failure

I feel like a failure today.
This isn't unusual, but it is sad. Heavy. I'm struggling against my inclination towards self-pity; I know it's useless and not productive, but that's how I feel. I never know what feelings I should deny, or if I should deny any of them. All of them.

I wrote a riddle today.
"What do you get when you cross arrogrance with low self-esteem? Give up? Me too."
You get, as of right now, me.

Reader, I am a writer. I know, it seems obvious, but sometimes I have to remind myself that this is the case. I wish I could write solely for myself; when I do, it's unquestionably my best work. But I cannot always write just for myself; the looming prospect of my readership prevents me from wallowing in the story as I did when I was eleven years old and at the beginning. I am a pleaser, which means that even in this one activity I should (and have on occasion) performed only for me, I try to please the un-pleasable audience of my imagination.

It doesn't work, and yet I'm stuck with it, because for some reason I have...blocked myself from changing my ways. My life changed significantly two years ago. I'm still reaping the consequences of that change. I wish...but what's the point in wishing? Wishes are useless.

WolfGrrl