Self Discipline v Self Doubt

A Poem by WritersBlock

Read it.

This isnt a poem.. its a rant yet it is poetic to me. Its a Roamt.

I'll lead with a question. How often do we doubt ourselves in this day and age? Dont answer that. Simply put.. too f****n often. How many times do we sit down and experience our real self in all its splendor? It almost sounds like a case of identity crisis. How we percieve ourselves, and the value of self is shown throughout our work. Everyday you wake up, from the breakfast you prepare yourself, the blogs you write, and how many times you wipe your a*s.. it all shows how much you value yourself.

I often have these fits of what I'd like to call 'Writers Rage'. Where agression becomes a precursor for an explosion of thought. Today its how often we become our own worst critic. I mean how many times to you write something.. then read it.. and just tell yourself its horrible? How many trash bins have been filled with balls of paper covered in palm sweat.. in an attempt to write your emotions down in the form of a story or essay. I mean, I Iook at great writers of the past and present and think, 'There is no f****n way anyone could be revered as they are. I cant even write a short story.' We live in a digital age, no more carpal tunnel from realigning the typewriter, no more blisters between our fingers.. no more sweat, no more eyeball pain from reading sentences over and over again.. how the f**k are we supposed to feel the pain a writer is supposed to feel? I look upon writers like Robert Frost, I've probably read 2 of his works, but I know he is legend. " How did you do it? How did you become so evident, so great.. so revered? ' To you Mr. Frost and others like yourself, I tip my imaginary hat. I feel as if, in a sense, we as writers.. are you. We are that collective mindset.. we are the grand creator of literary architecture. I 'm f****n Michelangelo in his s****y painting days. I am a writers mental collapse, the Berlin Wall. I am Jack's all-encompassing realization of his horrible, f****n, equisite existence. I am the self doubt Rober Frost had, I am the uncertaintity principle, I am the vigor of failing writers, I am the taste of sweat upon my lips, I am the s****y grammar, I am the run on sentence, I am relentless preserverance.. Are you?