thoughts

Self-Destruction as an Instrument of Self-Discovery

Creator

I’m great at breaking myself down. The very tools I use to build my self-esteem, I can easily turn into weapons of mass destruction. It’s like my own little superpower, or how I see it, a curse that is worst than death. Writing has been my best tool. With it, I plan on building kingdoms where I can finally feel that I own something.

So it’s no surprise how quickly I’ve become a nuke. Every thought in my head is a landmine I want to step on. What I want to do more than write is to stop thinking about being successful at it. This is a war I fight on both sides. Even if I win, I still lose. The truth is, I’ve been running away from the truth for too long. Trying to build a castle on a battleground will never end good for the builder.

Verity

I feel I’m an average writer. Not a bad writer, or a good writer–just an okay “there’s a beginning, middle, and end” style writer. I feel this way all the time, never getting any better. And when I admit this to myself, I feel good. Like, I don’t feel that I have to prove myself to anyone. Even better, this is how I want to always feel. That it’s okay to just be… okay.

This is my truth and I accept it. And when I say my truth, I mean exactly that. Mine, not yours or anyone else’s. The reason I’m an average writer is because of expectations. Reading other people’s work, being poems or novels or blogs, is intimidating. Any world I create through my own words would never rival those made by others. So I can see why there are people who don’t want to believe in aliens. As humans, it’s easy to believe in our Godhood despite our flaws, when we have nothing to compare ourselves to.

Destruction

Then again, am I only using other people as an excuse? Probably so. The more I think about it, the more I start to wonder if I’m lying to myself. My biggest problem has always been that: myself. Without a blueprint, it’s easy to build prisons instead of houses. The walls I built to block the world out have done too good of a job. I feel a lost connection; that I’m an IPhone 10 without WiFi. My chaotic brain cannot express itself through a filtered voice. This is why I have to break myself down. In order to rebuild anything, I first need to destroy.

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