Thoughts rumble around in my head constantly. It is chaos in my mind and I barely know how to turn down the volume. I feel like I have nowhere to put to ramblings of my brain, because who would care to hear them? I have told myself for years now that no one cares what I have to say. I started to believe that.
What if there is something profound buried underneath all the nonsense and rubble? What if I need to get it all out so I can unbury the good stuff? Maybe I need to write a bunch of bullshit first, to practice, to get better. Maybe I will eventually come out with something that someone really needed to hear, something that changes someone’s perspective, maybe even their life.
I think I get too conceited when I think that I have the ability to help someone change their life. Then I realize that voice isn’t mine, but a girl from middle school telling me I am stuck up and conceited – which was very confusing at the time because I knew that I was shy and on the verge of hating myself. Which really isn’t much different from me today, honestly.
I have to get these thoughts out of my head, though; these negative, self-conscious thoughts. Thoughts of unworthiness, thoughts of never amounting to anything. I want to write, but it feels like everything good is boxed in and buried, brick by brick, negative thought by negative thought.
I need to dismantle the walls, one brick at a time, one thought at a time. Breaking down the barriers I have built around me for fear of letting someone really see me or, god forbid, seeing me fail. The first bricks to go need to be the self-hate, the self-deprecating, the meanest and heaviest of them all.
I have over fifteen years worth of bricks to dismantle to start gaining access to what is underneath. The little girl full of stories to tell that I buried because I became led to believe that I wasn’t good enough; I wasn’t smart enough, funny enough, clever enough. My creativity was squashed over a decade ago and over the years, I was too afraid to try anything that required putting myself out there.
After ninth grade and being mercilessly bullied for a whole year, I truly believed there was something wrong with me. I never lost this belief over the last eighteen years. No one stepped in and taught me to believe in myself again.
I have to find my own way back there. There is no other way. I am drawn to writing like a dehydrated animal toward water. I have been since I was a child. I have dreamt of being a writer for years, yet I haven’t done much to try and make that happen for myself. Even now, I am terrified every time I put my words out into the world.
Brittany Netzband 
Perhaps you could start with some writing prompts, there are tons on Google, and challenge yourself to do one a week. Even if it isn’t *great* or *profound* you’ll still be making steps towards your goal that you can look back on and actually SEE and READ your progress.
Secondly, and excuse my French, FUCK those girls who bullied you. When I met you, I wanted to be more like YOU! You’re kindness, humor, and laid back style made it easy for us to form a fast friendship, and that friendship is something I look back on so fondly. You are someone worth hearing, worth caring about, worth effort and excitement. You’re energy, your laughter, you’re friendship is a gift to those around you. Keep pushing forward 💕
LikeLiked by 1 person