Quotes About Self-doubt

Feeling like what, Cassandra Mortmain? Flat? Depressed? Empty? If so, why, pray? I thought if I made myself write I should find out what is wrong with me, but I haven't, so far. Unless — could I possibly be jealous of Rose? I will pause and search my innermost soul . . . I have searched it for a solid five minutes. And I swear I am not jealous of Rose; [..]

deep down, in some vague, mixed way I had been letting myself hope that he didn't really care for her, that it was me he loved and that kissing me would have made him realise it...

Vanity is a defensive quality. it contains an element of fear.

Is his manhood a sham? Does he love himself or hate himself? I don't think he knows. Or it changes minute to minute. Or the question is so implicit in everything he does that he can't get outside it to answer

those of us who are never satisfied with our accomplishments secretly believe nobody will love us unless we're perfect.

But in so many ways I'm still that kid, not sure exactly how to be emotionally intimate with a girl without feeling weak, not sure my work is good enough, not sure if the people who are clapping would really like me if they got to know me (page 2)

The downside of being a writer is you get plenty of time to overthink your life.

The problem is this: those of us who are never satisfied with our accomplishments secretly believe nobody will love us unless we're perfect.

Some people are naturally brave. Others, like me, learn to fake it. I still had no idea if faked bravery and real bravery were the same thing.

W]hat is man, that he dares so to accuse himself?

Henry Ford agreed: "Whether you think you can or can't, you're right.

As I sit with pen in hand, I am wondering, "Just what the hell do you think you are doing, Kelly?" I ask myself all the questions: how and why and will they be able to understand; can you spell good enough to get this message across? I keep coming up with the same answer: "Give it a try"- this as you see, is what I will do.

And when I can't speak it, I write it down. I wish I was different. Wish I was taller, smarter, could talk out loud the way I write things down. I wish I didn't always feel like I was on the outside, looking in like a Peeping Tom.

But I seemed unable to do anything that pleased anyone and that included me, my own self, though at that time I did not know that myself constituted such a thing as existence

My biggest fear used to be that I would run into a challenge that would block me from achieving success. Now my biggest fear is self-doubt. For it is in the mind that these battles are won and lost.

I live in constant fear of being fired or dropped for that dark part of my work I can't control.

I," I'll type. And that will be enough. Then there are the other days, when nothing is enough. The poem grins. It grins because it knows it is a terrible poem. It grins in embarrassment. It grins in pity. It grins in superiority. I may be a terrible poem, it grins, but at least I have one comfort. At least I'm not a terrible poet. At least I'm not the guy who sat in front of a typewriter for two hours coming up with the likes of me.

Then there are the other days, when nothing is enough. The poem grins. It grins because it knows it is a terrible poem. It grins in embarrassment. It grins in pity. It grins in superiority. I may be a terrible poem, it grins, but at least I have one comfort. At least I'm not a terrible *poet*. At least I'm not the guy who sat in front of a typewriter for two hours coming up with the likes of *me*.

It would be so easy—effortless, really—to succumb to her insecurities, to simply sink into them like a rock falling to the bottom of the Thames, and it was the ease itself that terrified her. She would not cower as a duchess the way she had cowered as a debutante.

I know I'm still young and there's a lot of time for things to happen, but sometimes I think there is something about me that's wrong, that I'm not the kind of person anyone can fall in love with, and that I'll always just be alone.

I know I'm still young and there's a lot of time for things to happen, but sometimes I think there is something about me that's wrong, that I'm not the kind of person anyone can fall in love with, and that I'll just always be alone. But I think if I knew someone was going to fall in love with me when I'm fifty-three or something, I think I could wait. Maybe. If I knew it would at least happen.

If I'm trusting myself, I will stare at all the possible ways I could fail. If I'm trusting God, I will stare at all the possible ways He'll use this whether I fail or succeed.

Feeling unglued is really all I've ever known. And I'm starting to wonder if maybe it's all I'll ever be.

Being insecure - I'm a master, a virtuoso - they can be handing me the keys to the kingdom and all I can think is, I hope I don't drop the key.