I’m afraid that if I explore my creativity in stories, creating worlds in/with my mind, that I’ll lose touch with concensus reality and be unable to relate to those around me. And I am afraid that people will be unable to relate to me. That if I am good at stuff I won’t be liked or loved and that people will expect more of me. I am afraid that what I do will not be enough. People will always want more and drain all my energy, ’til I’m lying in bed, totally spent or dead. Nothing left. And no one to blame but myself because I let it happen. I’m afraid I’ll give ’til I’m gone. And if I don’t give..
people will take anyway.
Regardless of my feelings or protests. This is rape stuff. All types. Physical, emotional, psychological.

I am so confident in my ability to learn, understand, and apply knowledge.

The challenge now is to create
art, writing, music…

Create a beautiful life. A beautiful home. Beautiful, loving, supportive, relationships.


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