For a fortnight there...

I recognise my surroundings. I'm at the pivotal moment in any story, where I have to actively silence my inner voice. Where I have to push back on my deep rooted fear of failure and embarrassment, and just endure. Then even if I'm stopped in my tracks, even if I'm cast out and my dreams are shattered, at least I won't be full or bitterness and resentment. At least that's how it's supposed to work, right? But is there really any difference in quitting or being told no? At least if you quit, you get to say it was your own choice. Being rejected has a finality to it. The death of ego. And maybe I just want to hold on to it a little longer.