Dear Doubt,

Why do you consume my thoughts? Why do you make me feel bad?
What are you getting out of this?
I pace around because of you.
I feel inadequate
Like I am always going to be less than
Others can do it but not me
Doubt you control me
You hold me hostage
Your finger is on my pulse.
I can’t breathe
You are suffocating me
STOP
Not anymore
You have to go.
Get out of my head.
Get out of my life
Ship Out.
There is no more room for you.

Sincerely,

Catherine

Daily Prompt: Shape Up or Ship Out