A gift.

This past Sunday, God gave me this word:


Mercy

This is a genuine journal article. Be advised.

I wrote this a week or three ago. I guess this is a reasonable description of where I've been living for the past undefined expanse of time--not in a dramatic or you-should-be-concerned kind of way, more like my subconscious mindset...a pillar of thought upon which many other things rest.


In my head, I think I'm a better musician than many or most people making music today, locally or nationally even. So, I don't even make any music...just in case it turns out I'm not nearly as good as I thought. Comparison to other people is my undoing. What if, as I suspect, I'm not as good or talented or smart as I tell myself that I am? What will happen or become of me if instead of being an 8 or 9, I'm really just a 4 or 5...or even a 3. I'm so fucking scared. Of everything.

And I tell myself that I don't care. I tell myself that you can fuck off if you don't like it. But what I mean to say, what I don't trust you enough to say, is...please be gentle. Please don't hurt me. Please don't give me advice. Please just love me. Please believe I am worthwhile.