Define insecurity. Is it the art of pushing someone away before they can hurt you, only to realize they never would have? Is it the distorted mirror that reflects an image only you would believe is really you? Better, maybe its the state of un-grace, the place where you succumb to your scars and weaknesses, believing every negative thought you’ve ever had, the place where dreams morph into something unsettling and vaguely scary.
Insecurity will be my undoing, because the line between what I believe I’m worthy of and what I fear I’m capable of is very thin. And I have a hard time keeping it taut.
No one know this better than Drew, the spectator to my outbursts, the one constantly bewildered by my advances followed by hasty retreats. Two steps forward, three steps back. Who better than he knows the power disbelief holds over me, how it messes with my vision and paints an alternate reality? No one.
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