I Am Legion (a personal essay)

I’m unshakable when it comes to my dreams of being an author. I’m not sure why I haven’t grown out of it or if I ever will. I suppose naysayers are the reason why it has so much staying power.

When I’m told “You can’t [insert reason why authorship is preposterous]” a sudden and passionate emotion wells up. I can’t pinpoint what that emotion is, because it’s a cacophony of feelings combined to make one entity.

“I am Legion,” would be its response if asked to name itself.

Legion, however, is my cheerleader. My only believer. My pilot light. My muse. My best quality. It is reliant, unshakable and stubborn.

Legion floods me with so much energy and emotion that its difficult to communicate its grievances in the real world. It’s akin to standing in the center of a packed football stadium where everyone is simultaneously giving you their opinion on a subject and expect you to repeat it on the spot.

It’s impossible. In fact, I usually babble or seem incoherent.

“You cant [reason].”
“Yes. Maybe. Watch me! Someday. I dont know…”

Legion, however, is my cheerleader. My only believer. My pilot light. My muse. My best quality. It is reliant, unshakable and stubborn. Birthed the day I first created. The day I first put pen to paper. Tongue in cheek. The day I first felt worth existing.


A few months back, I was in a nasty rut and needed a change of pace. That’s when I found Yoga Girl Daily podcast on Spotify. The episode I listened to inspired this journal prompt.

Prompt: One of my greatest qualities is _______. How did this quality come about?

Credits

Prompt / Inspiration: Yoga Girl Daily Podcast (17 Sep 2019)

Picture: Woman Holding Her Head by by David Garrison via Pexels

My Letter to Fear

Dear Fear,

You’ve always been there for me. Always made sure I was safe. Always kept me alive. Always looked out for me.

…Until the day I dreamt.

 I’m done letting you control me.

Remember that day? When I had the audacity to believe I could be more. When I thought I could spend my days bathing in my creativity. When I was stupid enough–your words, not mine–to believe I could actually become a self-sufficient writer.

Remember?

You ought to. You poisoned that dream with paranoia, paralyzed me from achieving it and, worst of all, brought me down when I showed the slightest inclination to defying you.

Guess what? I’m done letting you control me.

I’m not completely abandoning you (you’re necessary to some degree), but I’m limiting your influence on my dream. You will try and stop me, but this time…you’re not winning.

Sincerely,

A Dreamer

Credits

Picture: Person Sitting On Couch via Pixabay