I am my own worst critic.

I am also my own biggest fan. It just depends on the day.

Sometimes, I will finish a piece of writing and think to myself, “I nailed that.” Other times, I will want to burn the page before any other eyes have the chance to read it. I am both extremely confident and enormously self-conscious. I think I am the most concerned about what I will think of my work. That may sound ridiculous, but I judge myself. Hard. I often come back to a piece of writing and wonder what drug I was on and why I ever thought it was well written.

One could argue seeing things through a hyper-critical lense has its benefits, though. By critiquing my own work, I can continue to improve it. By continually improving my work, I am never remaining stagnant. That leaves me with one place to go: forward. ¬†And that’s the funny thing about hard work. It feels hard and shitty and irritating until one day, when you’re well into the hard, shitty, irritating work, you realize you’ve made significant progress. BUT you can’t reach that realization point until your continuous efforts have down right beaten you to a pulp.

And the more I write, the more I relate to a cold glass of Tropicana.

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