And at that moment I realized how that would never, ever be me.
I am my own worst critic. My dreams never seem to get off the ground because I'm convinced I'm not good enough to do whatever it is I imagine. There is always someone better, or more creative, or more talented, or better suited, or more experienced, or luckier, or prettier, funnier, faster, smarter -- whatever. Some of this self-doubt is in the genes, I'm convinced, but most of it is just me. Me & that shitty little voice in my head that is incessantly reminding me of my mediocrity.
Sadder still is that I'm not really sure what to do about it. I guess it's some small thing to at least recognize it for what it is. But even as I praised my old classmate for doing what she loves, critics be damned, I silently reminded myself:
But I could never do that.