this week's secret

I got this picture from postsecret, and this thing occurred in my mind sometimes. without trying to be all too confidence of myself, I want to explain that there was a time when I really didn't have a clue about my talents. artsy stuffs? zero. fashion? I'm mediocre, eventhough I'm not bad. household things? effing zero. etc etc. Until I realized that I like writing so much. eventhough sometimes I only writes about unimportant things, unuseful for people, but I love it. there's where I can spill all my thoughts and dreams away. along the way, my friends found out about it. many of them convinced me to be a professional journalist once graduate from college or even to write my own book. my own stories. I really really want to do that actually except I want to do it after I travel somewhere or at least when I already have a settle carreer. I just want my writes contain of brand new informations I can share, or at least interesting life as a carrer woman I can share. but, everytime I start to write something for publics, any kind of form, this thought above always always bugging me. and this also always stop me from being creative. I usually stopped in the middle of some stories I wrote, because I'm affraid it would means anything to anyone but myself, people will judge, I'm sure they will, and I'm affraid, they won't like my stories. too childish, too cheesy, too plain, and etc. In my case, mostly I felt they would think it's too plain, mediocre. when people write about something, I'm sure they kind of release their inner self, part of their self in the stories. as for me, I write about things I can't get, things I can't afford, so I kinda build a brand new ideal world for me in stories, where I hope I can get or go through what the main character got or gone through. and I'm affraid people will dislike my inner self which will means, they don't like my thoughts either.

I know in everything they will always people who judge and support your work. there will always be two sides for sure. but still the thought always haunted me, and stop me from creating my ideal world, because it always made me feel unsure and disoriented. so I aways stopped in the middle.