I can’t write right.

Sometimes I can’t write,

my mind’s being deceived.

Not sure if it’s right,

don’t know what to believe.

 

A blank piece of paper

stares intently back at me.

I can’t even bother

to write meaningfully.

 

It’s as if every inch

of creativity has been taken.

Maybe I just need a pinch,

or  a life-changing awaken.

 

Take me back

to those days,

when I don’t lack

the words to say.

 

A few drops of inspiration,

something to set the mood.

Using my imagination,

to write something good.

 

Perhaps, my talent is missing.

But, I can’t seem to discern why.

I used to long for writing,

letting every word go by.

 

I am thirsty to create anything

that will leave your literary soul

hanging, banging, jumping, craving.

Will I achieve my goal?

 

 

 

 

Inadequacy.

Have you ever had the feeling of not being good enough? That you’re never worth it?

 

Well, this day is one those days. Where I feel as if I’m running away from something that’s not there; something abstract, invisible. Lately, I’ve been asking myself a lot of questions. Questions mostly about self-hatred, dispute, and scarcity.

 

“Why am I not good enough for writing?”

Is one of the questions I ask myself. I have always been fond of writing ever since childhood. I used to make fan fictions for my friends, one-shot stories, and even “imagines”. Currently poetry is the bloodline of my writing “career” (if you can even call it that) and I still feel like my poems are shit. They’re absolutely no good, not well-constructed, a mess. Yet, I see other people my age who can write beautiful pieces with or without breaking a sweat–still, the point is, that if they can do it, why can’t I seem to? Is it because I don’t actually have the talent? Or maybe I wasn’t just really gifted with talent of writing? I guess I’ll never know. While typing this, I feel sick. Because I can’t use fancy terminologies or fix my train of thoughts appropriately and because of that, I know I lack the important skill of writing.

 

“Why am I not good enough for painting and drawing?” 

This one’s pretty obvious to me. I am aware that I am not great at painting (and drawing for that matter) yet I keep doing it. Just shows how much how hard-headed I am. This is kind of upsetting because I genuinely enjoy painting and drawing but my passion for it isn’t enough to fuel my creativity to be able to make mesmerizing art. I’ve realized this thought as I was watching a person paint a realistic painting of a person, with shading, lighting and everything, which is one of my greatest weaknesses. I kept comparing myself to her over and over; “how come she can do it perfectly?” “how can she do that?” “why can’t I do it?”. In fact, I can’t paint without a base or copy–which she can do just fine (but if I do it, my piece will surely turn out as trash). Sometimes, I can’t help but doubt my love for art. Maybe art’s not meant for me after all, considering all the weaknesses and cons I have whenever I make one.

 

“Why am I not good enough of a student?” 

As a student, I frequently ask myself this question. Why I’m never able to be the best top-notcher, why I can’t perfect an easy exam, why I can’t recite in class properly, why I can’t perform speeches or performance tasks in front of people. I’m always anxious, queasy, easily pressured even when I’m not supposed to be. I study all day and night because I want things to get done the soonest. Once they announce quizzes, exams, homeworks, activities, I do them as soon as the words leave from my professors’ mouth. But still, I don’t get the grade that I think I deserve. I even once considered myself to be homeschooled because people terrify me (since I go to a bigger school now than before). I feel them judging, criticizing, stabbing me in my back. I can hear their whispers, the roll of their eyes as I walk past, the uncomfortable shift of the world as they turn to look at me. I lack social well-being. In relation to this question, I ask myself, “I think I’m only good at memorizing stuff. But that doesn’t make me smart, does it? They have a difference, I know.” And I admit it to myself in the mirror. I’m not smart, I can only memorize–and there’s a goddamn difference.

 

With these questions, I tend to question myself and my abilities. In line with this, I scrutinize myself in the meanest way possible. I am my own enemy. Either I meddle with these demons, or I break free. There is no in-between. But meddling with them is much more fun because I don’t see one positive thing about being talentless. I want to be good enough, to be worth it, to be okay. Will I ever?

Having that said, I hope you find what you truly love doing, and being good enough for that. I hope you find yourself worth it, amidst the negative things that are choking you. Stay strong, reader. Stay strong, self.

 

xx