Sometimes I notice doubt creeping in at midnight.
She whispers, sweetly, “you don’t want to do that, do you? It’ll be hard. It’ll be scary. You might get tired.”
She drones on and on some nights, as I sit by the candlelight pouring my heart onto a page.
I might sink into my wisdom so deeply she can no longer slip through the cracks.
The space between my mind and my soul is growing smaller and smaller.
When Doubt tries to sneak in, I catch her. Sometimes it takes me a day. Sometimes I sulk and cry and forget that I can take my power right back. But I always remember.
Guilt, her best friend, tips me off.
Sometimes I hear them chattering away with each other. A cacophonous mutter in my mind.
And that’s when I know it’s time for them to go.
Shadowy voices aren’t welcome here.