I just need to write. I just need to put words into my fingertips and let them drip down unfettered, helter-skelter, nonsense.
I must not be terrified by the size of the mountain or how large a shadow it casts; I must simply focus on taking the first step.
I remember that it will all be mush for now: terrible and self-conscious, inglorious and undignified. Raw and unprepared in its irredeemable insecurity.
But I must be brave. I must not worry about the edit and re-edit. Fear is my motivator, terror the nip at my heels that I need to spur me forward. Onward.
In truth, I pray for failure, because it will mean the safety of anonymity: no one to see my mistakes and deride my undeserving attempts.
No one will laugh. I know that no one will laugh.
And yet the longer I stall, the more I know the weight of the “what if” will chain me down.
So no more what if. No more edits. No more revisions or looking back or backing down.
I must only press “send.”