I'm in the grips of the thing that shall not be named. To put name to it feels like I'd be giving it power. But not naming it doesn't mean it isn't still there, waiting to swoop in and end me. Like Voldemort.
Melodrama much? Why yes, I will. Thank you for asking.
I know that this thing I'm trying not to acknowledge won't end me. Not really. It will merely sneak out and make me stumble. It halts my forward progress when I acknowledge its presence. And yet when I don't, it still creeps into my brain and makes it hard for me to sleep or think or write. (It doesn't stop me from eating, though, the dirty bastard.)
It whispers in my ears at night. Horrible, nasty, crippling things. And it laughs when I try to defend myself.
Even now, as I type this post, it's trying to gain a foothold. To stop me from writing even this.
But I can't let it win.
Still if this thing and its horrible whispers turn out to be true...
I've said it before and I'll say it again - Self-doubt is a killer. So I just have to shut it out, pretend it isn't there, and move forward.
Except it's always there. And it always will be.
(Don't forget - there's still time to enter the contest for a gooey, yummy Danish kringle pastry!)