So I’m thinking maybe I should stop writing for good. I clearly have no talent anyway, and no promise of ever being published or recognized. I don’t enjoy it anymore because I’m now a perfectionist about it and can’t write a single damn thing without judging it as awful. I don’t give myself a chance to even finish a poem before I will convince myself it’s bad and throw it away. Besides the fact that there’s no point anymore. I mean, why carve 2-3 hrs. out of each day to slave over a poem you know is mediocre, fussing over every last little detail to make sure it’s ‘just right’…for what? So you can submit it to some website where maybe five people will read it, if you’re lucky? There are so many other, more meaningful things I could be doing with my time. The only problem is that being a writer is the one thing I really want to do with my life. Or it was. Now I don’t know what I want to do anymore.