Spray Bottle? Squirt Gun?
A few months shy of a decade post-PGSA, there are still days when I need an encouraging cold shot from the water-powered weapons genius who is Cristin O'Keefe Aptowicz.
I am embarassed with myself for talking in circles and digging myself into holes at the same time, saying things that I probably shouldn't say. Or even worse, holding back on things that I really, really should say.
Whine whine whine.
I keep thinking deep down I'm not good enough or witty enough or not that talented or blah blah blah blah blah.
Bull. Shit. Hannah.
If I can't even articulate the things I'm confident about without additionally articulating every insecurity I've got, maybe I should carefully consider what I'm about to say before I say it. I don't do that enough anymore, and I end up rambling. Then I ramble right into negative, irritating, insecure girl territory.
Ice cold water. To the face. Now, please.
I am embarassed with myself for talking in circles and digging myself into holes at the same time, saying things that I probably shouldn't say. Or even worse, holding back on things that I really, really should say.
Whine whine whine.
I keep thinking deep down I'm not good enough or witty enough or not that talented or blah blah blah blah blah.
Bull. Shit. Hannah.
If I can't even articulate the things I'm confident about without additionally articulating every insecurity I've got, maybe I should carefully consider what I'm about to say before I say it. I don't do that enough anymore, and I end up rambling. Then I ramble right into negative, irritating, insecure girl territory.
Ice cold water. To the face. Now, please.