What Is Self Doubt?

By Parnika Sahu

Self doubt is a weed, it creeps upon pretty minds as a pretty mould (But I love it). It is a parasite, it feeds on decaying self-confidence, taking a part of you with it. It is a corset, a black one, with its laces fracturing your ribs and your aplomb. (And you). It is a necklace, it adorns your (not so) strong neck.

Darling you are gorgeous, wear the necklace with care. Don’t let the precious pearls plummet. Don’t let the metallic clasp break, let it choke you just a little longer. Self doubt is an art, but not everyone is an artist. Self doubt is art is beauty is self doubt is art is beauty and beauty hurts. It’s not beautiful if it

doesn’t hurt. Self doubt is Naegleria fowleri- it eats your brain till your brain is nothing but a mere murky mush. It then stomps on the mush till it looks like your brain again. It is a ghost, it haunts you in your ivory dreams and scares them away. Self doubt is a cage, and cages protect you. They isolate you from the world and then cluster you with your self deprecating, rotten thoughts. (We all live in cages, don’t we?) I am self doubt and the self doubt is me. We are one, like Bonnie and Clyde. We are one, like Romeo and Juliet. We coalesce into one-another. We cannot exist without the other. But we also cannot exist with the other. We polish each other (And keep trying to destroy each other). Self doubt is a needle to me- I stitch insecurities like pearls into my ephemeral heart, bleeding more each time. What is self doubt to you? You decide.

By Parnika Sahu