Saturday, December 12, 2015

My Biggest and Worst Critic

I have proven, time and again, that I am my biggest and worst critic.

There could be a crowd of people cheering me on and I would still be choking on my anxiety.
There could be 10 people simultaneously saying good things about me, supporting me, encouraging me; and I would still feel inadequate, downcast, distressed.
There could be a deafening barrage of applause and yet I would still be trapped in the deafening silence of my anxiety-stricken mind-- where there is no other sound but the echo of a probable failure.
You see, I am my biggest and worst critic.

I would rather have everyone tell me that they are disappointed in me, than hear praises from their mouths yet see only dissatisfaction in their eyes.
I would rather have cruel remarks thrown my way, than pretend to bask in the glory of acclaim even though I am really dying a little inside.
I would rather be ruthlessly criticized, than sulk from the self-inflicted torture of my own imaginations of failure and loss.
You see, I am my biggest and worst critic.

You will never see me shed a tear over tragic romance movies, but I will spend sleepless nights crying over a petty mistake like a mispronounced word, a semi-inappropriate gesture, or a relatively tolerable yet crappy syntax.
You will never feel my heart-wrenching anxiety attacks because I have mastered the art of projecting outward smiles; but in reality, I break down every after task, performance, quiz, and all other events in-between.
You will never hear me criticize another as loudly as I criticize myself in my mind.
You see, I am my biggest and worst critic.

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