A Soul In Prison

prison cell

As soon as I wrote out my “bucket list” yesterday, I began to feel anxiety and stress.  Why?

It’s probably because I immediately began seeing road blocks that would deter me from finding answers or realizing a dream.

Mostly it’s the dang inner critic.

The same critic that likes to remind me over and over of my inabilities and insecurities and disabilities.  And because of these, there’s no point in going through my chosen bucket list.

I’m struggling.  A part of me wants to give in to this inner critic; to believe its lies that it keeps telling me.

Or, are there some truths to the lies?

I hate this feeling of wishy-washy; feeling of low self-esteem, and sense of inferiority and weakness.

Some days, I just plain hate being me.

I’m such a perfectionist that my own disabilities automatically doom me from even trying to do anything.


I must find a way to break out of this prison that has plagued me, kept me locked up for far too long.

I need to free my spirit and soul before it’s too late to do so.

This bucket list is my way out.

To freedom.




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