Wavering

I recognise now the patterns of my own behaviour. The rising of confidence on a given subject or project, then the dips in my own self-assuredness, accompanied by my lashing out at someone to get them to prop me up. Although I guess sometimes it may not seem that way to the person on the receiving end.

My fear, I know now, is what drives my sometimes unexplainable bouts, the out-of-nowhere whip of my crazy cat-o-nine-tails tongue that almost but cleverly never out-and-out accuses you of anything. But tells you in nuances how you continue to fall short of my expectations.

I apologise, I truly am sorry.

Truth is, this project and the one that I think this will create room for both terrify me perhaps more than I dare admit. Because this is about walking the line and actually taking the deep breath before crossing over. The totting up of all my wishes and pipe dreams, and all that I've worked for up till now, and making it work.

What if when I get there I don't like it?

Maybe what I need to do is take this as I have all my other jobs. Except this one is with my own money.

And I need to get serious about the writing. If I do skive from now on, I will write. It must be my new rule of life. Sacrifice one thing for another. Not just be a sloth at home.