Rebel (026)

I once opened a fortune cookie that defined me as a person: “You enjoy doing what others say you cannot.” It’s true, I’m absolutely a rebel, especially when questionable rules are put in place that try to prevent me from completing reasonable actions. I had anarchy patches as a teenager, and I identify with the punk music genre. I enjoy proving people wrong when I’m convinced they are. This likely was born of hearing that everyone was terrible, no good, and out to get me, for as long as I can remember by the people who created and raised me. 

Perhaps I’m at a point now where I have no one to prove wrong anymore except myself. I have given up hope that I can convince people how to see a specific point of view. I did not go to law school and I’m not a trained debater, so I’ve gotten to a place where I keep most everything inside. Who do I have to prove wrong, and what are they wrong about? My own self doubt brain weasel, that’s who. The one who says I will never amount to anything and that this book will never get written because I cannot commit to a goal for my own sake. That weasel is wrong, and I’m going to enjoy proving it.