Always Wrong

You call me lazy while you sit on the couch

You call me fat while your gut’s sticking out

You call me expendable and wave your pink slip

You call me an idiot while your IQ takes a dip

You call me ugly while your lover is puking

You call me a simp while it’s her you’re abusing

You call me a loser while you’re floundering about

You call me a deadbeat while your future’s in doubt

You call me a snowflake while your eyes are pouring

You say I’m wasting my time while your life is boring

You say I’m virtue signaling to an audience of few

Yet the back of your truck says you “Back the Blue”

You’re running your mouth and you say it’s free speech

But all of my freedoms are somehow just out of reach

You abuse the constitution to make yourself feel strong

You’re not a model of strength, because you’re always wrong!

Always wrong! Always wrong!

I’ll say it over and over across a lifetime so long

Always wrong! Always wrong!

It’s a never-ending chorus for a never-ending song

Always wrong! Always wrong!

Always wrong! Always wrong!

Always wrong! Always wrong!

How are you a threat when you’re always wrong?!

Impostor Syndrome

VERSE 1

Raindrops on my window, I’ll stay home today

No point in getting wet when I go out and play

No point in getting off my comfortable mattress

If I stay in bed, I can’t be hated by the masses

Putting fingers to keyboard is career suicide

If I fuck up once, then nobody’s on my side

Impostor Syndrome is burying my body alive

No dreams to pursue, no need to really strive

CHORUS 1

Maybe my inner critic has a damn good point

Maybe my answers are traveling an empty void

Maybe this little song is just cacophonic noise

Impostor Syndrome, like I really have a choice

VERSE 2

“Too offensive, too dense, too ugly, too fat

Too young, too stupid, too this, too that

Too many mistakes, don’t you ever learn?

Not enough achievements, nothing to earn”

CHORUS 1

Maybe my inner critic has a damn good point

Maybe my answers are traveling an empty void

Maybe this little song is just cacophonic noise

Impostor Syndrome, like I really have a choice

BRIDGE

“Don’t you cry, you brought this on yourself

All your life’s work will never leave the shelf

What life’s work? Oh yeah, you don’t have any

How many years did you waste? Too damn many”

CHORUS 2

Maybe my inner critic is teaching me a lesson

Maybe my outer critics should be holding weapons

Maybe the universe has come to collect the rent

Impostor Syndrome a.k.a. the never-ending debt

Impostor Syndrome a.k.a. the reason I’m dead

WHISPERY DIALOGUE

Shh…Shh…It’s okay

Everything will be okay

You just fell down a rabbit hole again

You’re still mourning

You have to make peace with the past

And the present

And the future

Everything will be okay

I promise you

I love you

I always will

Impostor Syndrome

***IMPOSTOR SYNDROME VS. ARROGANCE***

Last year when Hollow Hills put together the Still Standing anti-bullying anthology, Aurora Styles wrote a blog entry joking about how that book should be known as “The Curse of the Self-Loathing Authors”, or something to that effect. It was true. There was something about writing that book that made the authors, myself included, feel unsatisfied, like they have Impostor Syndrome. While it’s nice to be humble throughout your writing journeys, you have to believe in yourself at least a little bit in order to get shit done.

I must confess that I’ve struggled with Impostor Syndrome since I began writing and editing Emilio & Marigold for this year’s Hollow Hills anthology. I held such a negative opinion of my own writing that I actually started having anxious thoughts about potentially being fired from Hollow Hills. Of course, it would take more than writing a mediocre story for that to happen, but anxiety is anxiety and it doesn’t give any quarter. I’m not looking for sympathy nor am I fishing for compliments. I’ve dealt with the beast of Impostor Syndrome before and I can deal with it again. Beside, the anxious thoughts about a potential firing went away after twenty-four hours. That’s it.

It seems as though I’ve spent a good while trying to find a balance between Impostor Syndrome (extreme self-doubt) and arrogance (unjustified self-esteem). The middle passage is somewhere out there. I’ve got to find it. Just like I’ve got to find the middle passage between Mary-Sue characters and those whose flaws make them the most hated characters in my story. If you throw a pin into a gigantic pool of water, that’s where the middle passage is. Some authors have found it, others have not and their writing suffers because of it. Oh, there goes my Impostor Syndrome again!

In case you’ve ever felt like you were alone in this, know that you’re not. I don’t want to say that Impostor Syndrome is a necessary part of the creative process, because it’s not. Sure, you need to recognize your own flaws as an author and work on strengthening them. Sure, you need to take criticism gracefully and use it to build a strong foundation. But when your Impostor Syndrome is all-consuming, it can have some detrimental effects. I’m not saying I have the cure for what ails you, because I don’t. All I know is that some days you’ll feel like you can take on the world and other days you’ll feel like dog shit. Can you do anything about this? Can you have more high days than low ones? Hmm…

Not to let my Impostor Syndrome kick in again, but I really didn’t plan this blog entry through very well. I’ve got one page worth of text and I’m guessing it’s about five hundred words long, which is a thousand less than a novel chapter or short story usually is. Don’t worry, I don’t have my compliment fishing rod and tackle box out and I’m not a gold medalist in the Oppression Olympics. I’m just working through some things right now, that’s all.

You know what would work great for my Impostor Syndrome? Being able to rest my head on someone’s lap while they stroke my hair. It sounds perverted on the surface and that’s probably why my short story Schizophrenic Playboy wasn’t a smash hit anywhere that I posted it. But you know what? It doesn’t have to be perverted. It can be completely platonic. Gender wouldn’t even matter to me. Just resting my head on someone’s lap would feel nice right about now. I’ve been watching a lot of Cuddle Sanctuary videos lately, so that might be where I’m getting this from.

Do any of you struggle with Impostor Syndrome? I bet I’ll get a shit ton of yeses to this question, but I figured I’d ask anyways. What are some of your coping techniques? Do you just push through the days and hope that you’ve got more good days than bad ones? I’m Garrison Kelly! Even when you feel like dying, keep climbing the mountain!

***BEAUTIFUL MONSTER***

In between edits of Emilio & Marigold, I’ve been quietly writing new chapters of Beautiful Monster and the next one will be number twenty-three. In this chapter, Windham, Llewellyn, and Tarja are taking shelter in a cave on the beach and they’re trying to figure out a plan to reclaim the Xavier Village from the Shadow Asylum mercenaries and Atwood Queendom soldiers. Three warriors versus an entire army? How is that even possible?!

***LYRICS OF THE DAY***

“Rape me. Rape me, my friend. Rape me. Rape me again. I’m not the only one. Hate me. Do it and do it again. Waste me. Rape me, my friend. I’m not the only one. My favorite inside source. I’ll kiss your open sores. I appreciate your concern. You’re going to stink and burn.”

-Nirvana singing “Rape Me”-

***POST-SCRIPT***

I feel that Nirvana’s anti-rape song will become a rallying cry for Windham Xavier throughout Beautiful Monster’s final five chapters. I’m strangely okay with that. It’s certainly more appropriate than “I’ll Be Over You” by Toto, which is what I’ve proposed for the first draft. The first draft…Millennium for emo kids…(shivers). Goddamn Impostor Syndrome!