Home > Uncategorized > Just thinking aloud.

Just thinking aloud.

Yes. I realize I just posted something. But I can’t sleep, and I’m having one of those nights where I just want to write. And write and write. It’s right there. There’s something that I want to say; it’s just a matter of figuring out what that is. So I will spout random thoughts until it becomes cohesive. If it ever does.

I am thinking about getting a tattoo. Fo’ realz. (I’m tired. Don’t judge.) If I get one, I want to get a dove. Doves are my absolute, all-time favorite religious symbols, and I love it’s meaning: peace. I need peace. I need certainty. That’s what I need more than anything.

 

I wish that I was a good writer. I think it’d be beautiful to write for a career. But I could never swing it. I don’t have the right words.

Which sucks. Because I’m not that great of a copy editor, either. So, what do I do? What if the one thing I want to do with my life (be an editor) is something I’m just not good at? What if I can’t do it? I don’t want to be like that kid who dreams about being a professional basketball player (or whatever) and has to be told by his parents or coach or whoever that, sorry, but he’s just not gonna cut it.

Editing makes me self-conscious. All these stories I have to edit for work? I check and re-check them. Constantly. I want to do well when I edit. I take my jobs so seriously. They mean so much to me, and I want to do the best job possible. I know I’m not the most talented or intuitive editor out there, but I’m praying that my willingness to work my butt off will be obvious to my future employers.

But really: what if I can’t do it? I know I shouldn’t think this way. But it’s such a deep-rooted fear that I can’t help it. I’m terrified. Absolutely, 100% terrified about it.

 

Enough worrying. What’s meant to be will be, right? I’m so sick of hearing those platitudes.
You can spout those to me all you want, but it’s not going to make me feel any better. I don’t like feeling like I’m not in control of my life, and that’s how it makes me feel.

 

Yep, this post is going nowhere. Fail.

 

I need to go to sleep. But my brain won’t sleep.

 

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