There is a devil on my shoulder this week. He’s leaning in to whisper in my ear:
You know that thing you care so much about? You’re the only one.
You are so proud of this thing you’ve done. No one else notices.
You don’t matter.
Most people pity you.
That outfit you think you look so cute in? It makes you look enormous, and it is totally dated.
You’re ordinary, and probably have to jump to tap mediocre.
You think you can try, but you won’t succeed.
Not that it matters if you do, because it will be a big clap of nothing when it happens. Which it won’t.
I know this devil. I hate him. But it’s hard to get him to shut up. Fear, self-loathing, despair and hopelessnes are his contributions. I could live very well if I never had any of those things.
I am trying to remember the things that I am doing that prove him wrong. The things I have done that prove him wrong.
Many times I know without reaching that my friends and family love me and value me. A lot of times I am fearlessly passionate about my interests.
This week the devil is loud.
But this week won’t last forever.