I am insecure
I don't think this is a surprise to anyone who knows me, but sometimes I am surprised when I am faced with this reality again. It sneaks up on me. I can be convincingly outwardly self-confident even though the amount of self-confidence that I possess is questionable, at best.

I am never sure of myself.

I am surprised when people like me or want me around, and I'm even more surprised when people want to know me past what I do that is funny, entertaining, or useful.

I am shy. I am quiet. I am distracted by being both shy and quiet.

I make jokes. When people laugh, I've done well. When I am off and the crowd is quiet, I am sure I've done and said the wrong thing.

I am not confident enough that people will want me when I'm not able to be the best person they have ever met on the planet. I mess up a lot while trying too hard. I retreat.

I will be whatever you want me to be. I may disappoint both of us.

I find safety in numbers, yet I find comfort in being alone.

I am on the verge of greatness, but I fall short of truly great. I have great moments, but they don't necessarily dictate more great moments to follow. I possess many of the qualities of those we revere as great in our society. I am funny, even on cue. I am smart. I am driven. I write well. I am creative. I am resourceful. I have goals. I work hard. I have desire. I aspire. I dream.

I daydream. I lose touch.

I don't have confidence. I think this is what keeps me from greatness.

I need people to believe in me. I thrive when people communicate to me that I am great, or good, or useful. I am convinced that I am great when I get proof from others that I am. And, I am defeated when those who once believed, don't.

I seek approval. But I don't always approve.

I need convincing that I am ok.

I need acceptance when I am weird.

I need a few close people who don't leave me when I'm not great. Otherwise, I need an audience to laugh when I am on.

I need security.

C.T.