sore thumb torn palms

do you ever doubt yourself sometimes? that somehow under the façade that you put up, the protective layer that you encase yourself up in, that when you wake up everyday and look into the mirror you smile to yourself and say "i'm fabulous" -- a ritual that you must perform -- you actually dont feel like it? you actually felt like unbrushing your already curled hair with their perfect twirls and swirls and lie down back in bed. your mind goes blank, it is dark but you do not black out, you stay wide awake staring into nothingness thinking of nothingness. there is no thoughts in your head. nil. when you had to write about someone, you feel that you cant because you do not know that person, hypothetically or realistically. hypothetically and realistically. you have no clue what to do, your fingers spread out on the keyboard, thumbs on the spacebar, pinkies where they should be. you start to type random words that appear on the blank document, alphabet by alphabet, until you suddenly stop dead in your tracks. no word comes out of your fingertips, like a dry water tap, no visuals in your head, blank, like the remaining page-long word document. you start to think that you were not born to do this, that you are just a clueless bystander, and that is when you start comparing yourself to others. she wrote 600 words in under 15 minutes, why cant you? she finished her jennifer character but you havent embark on your sam. she has brilliant ideas, creative juices evolving into alphabets, words, sentences, paragraphs, whilst your sit there, deadly quiet. stuck. in muck. and when you think you suddenly have a surge of inspiration and resume your typing, feverishly, all ten fingers fleeting the keyboard trying to put your thoughts into words, they disappear again, floating away like the sands of time. the clock is ticking.