Day One of 40 Days to More Imaginative Writing. This did not turn out at all like I thought it would.
Dear Inner Critic,
I know you mean well, but the truth is, your insights and critiques about efficiency and not being wasteful are just not helping me. I need you to accept where I’m at and accept some risks I take. Please stop calling me imperfect. I need you to let me breathe. I need you to let me be. I need you to let me feel the flow again. I know you’re smart and I trust your judgments, but sometimes what you see is only what is and not what can be.
Mom, there’s a lot more to life than what is sitting before you. And Mom, you may not have moved on from the source of your hurt, but it has moved on from you. You’re the only one stopping yourself now. Dad isn’t going to feel the effects of a poison pill you take yourself. I love you to death, but I can’t let you trap me like this anymore. I’m freer than you are.
I love you. I know you mean well. Goodbye, inner critic.