“Why am I doing this again?” I asked myself.
“You have a talent for writing, remember?” I replied.
So I sat begrudgingly in front of a keyboard and started typing, already feeling strained by the effort required of me.
“If you don’t like doing it, why continue?” The question entered my head.
“Because you are good at it, apparently, and it would be a waste for you to not at least give it a try.” I replied again.
Then the intrusive, negative thoughts entered my head:
“No one is going to want to read your shit.”
“You are opening yourself to so many negative comments.”
“You aren’t a talented writer. People are just being nice.”
Oh, do shut up!
I’m here, I’m doing this, and somehow I will continue to do this. It will be crap in the beginning — we all know this. I just gotta keep going.