Whenever I post something I think is relative genius, a moment later I wonder what the hell prompted me to do it. I am not self excoriating like Creighton, I don’t yell at myself in the shower (and elsewhere) but I second guess my desire to be noticed. I think that’s it. I want to be accepted, noticed, told “you’re OK!”.

I was such an ugly duckling, a blind one at that, and the least wanted child until thirteen years later. It was never easy for me. Every time I took a stride forward, I’d fall a couple steps back.