She is the definition of inconsistency; a fighter one minute and reduced to cowering in tears in the dark the next. Brimming with excitement and promise at the sound of praise, until the encouragement fades from her mind and her doubts get the better of her. Confidence is said to be in high-heels and vibrant makeup, but she doesn't have the confidence to wear them. She doesn't have the confidence to be confident while wearing them.
What is she a part of?
A circus?
A stage?
Some grand demonstration where everyone watches and criticizes but forgets that even performers have actual feelings and emotions in effect at every moment of every day?
She listens because she can hear, but she believes the doubts and the criticism for different reasons. Because her mind is geared to think that she's not good enough.
She will never be good enough.
She cannot. Be. Good enough.
And it hurts.
There is a longing for confidence there, within her, pounding on the inner cage of her consciousness. There is an eternal longing to let go. To stop doubting. To start moving forwards, brimming with confidence and promise and a brightness in her eyes.
But the light has gone out.
There are no matches, there's no flint and steel to kindle a flame behind that confidence. She doesn't know where to look. She doesn't know where to find it. An inner mantra goes only surface deep; she doesn't have the confidence to believe her own words. Outward encouragement and appreciation spurs her forwards only as long as her doubts don't tackle her right back to the ground again. Belief is hard to come by, except for the basis of her mentality:
She is not good enough.
She will never be good enough.
She cannot be good enough.
And it hurts.
But where did that belief stem from?
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