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Journey

I've defined and declared
Dreamed and despaired

I've blamed and defamed
Denied and decried

I've let myself loose on this journey so many years in planning unaware that my worst enemy was waiting just down the path to ambush me. Insidious and nearly insurmountable fear holds me in it's grip and numbs my sensation, blocks my inspiration. Fear is my comfort, companion, excuse; a reason to hide away and guarantee my outcome.

Why is failure by inaction comfortable? Why can I not see this when I need to, in the moment of suspended time when consequence is far removed from inaction? Time and successes will bring renewed direction and invigorate the creative process but it's so much harder with such a small support system to fall back on.

No one will be here for me so I must find it within myself to soldier on and succeed at all cost.

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