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Self-doubt And The Likes: A Piece Of Me

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So I sit down to write and I find myself doubting whether I will be able to churn up a good post or rather, put my thoughts into words most precisely as they fleet through my mind. This is not the first time this stump of doubt has left me wondering about my writing abilities. I find the same, old, irksome piece of bone gnawing at my peace of mind, every time I sit down to write โ€“ be it a story, a poem, or maddeningly enough, even a personal rant, which I assume, I would be the best one to be writing. Even when the heinous mote of doubt lurks as a shadow in the precincts of my conjuring mind, I somehow make my up mind to bring to life the idea that sprouted in my mind anyway. This has been a routine, since forever. No, wait. How can it be since forever, when the fact remains that I started โ€˜writingโ€™ when I was 20 years old. Random thoughts on the many inconspicuous nooks of my belongings wouldnโ€™t classify as writing, I believe, even though, they could be the first appreciated signs of the likelihood of spring around the corner. Continue reading “Self-doubt And The Likes: A Piece Of Me”