The Shadow
You’re at your highest. Feeling the most inspired. In flow. Doing your best work.
The Shadow takes a rest. Waiting for the right time to strike.
As you’re running through difficulties and leaping over hurdles, the Shadow patiently stalks behind, stealthy enough to not bring any attention to itself, but quick enough to stay close.
Waiting.
Waiting for that moment when you pause. When you stumble slightly, or lose your footing.
Then it strikes.
With a menacing grin, it mocks you.
“You aren’t good enough, and you never will be.”
It laughs at your skills, your decisions, and everything that you’ve done. It knows the squishy spots in your sense of self-worth, and ruthlessly digs in the cold knife of insecurity.
Over. And over. And over again.
Until you’re lying there. Goals abandoned. Self-confidence bleeding onto the gravel. The Shadow lies with you, finally getting to hear the sweet words it loves.
“I’ll never be good enough.”
And it settles in beside you, bearing a warm, satisfied grin, happy with its work.
The Shadow loves this time together, and will do whatever it takes to keep you by its side, lying stagnant. Stationary. Immobile.
While the immobility may seem insurmountable, it’s nothing but a facade. A single glass pane that starts to crack at the smallest movement. Even the wiggle of a finger is enough to strike fear and anxiety into the Shadow, the same way its knives did to you.
The twitch of your right finger turns into a tap. A second joins, then the third. Your hand starts to stretch and your forearm flexes. Your left side does the same. The Shadow tries to hold you down, but it’s weak. It’s nothing compared to your movement.
The Shadow starts to retreat in horror.
You finally stand up, the bone marrow of purpose filling your veins with self-confidence once again, with the shield of ignorant optimism by your side.
You take the first step, then the second. You turn your walk into a jog, then into a sprint.
You’re at your highest. Feeling the most inspired. In flow. Doing your best work.
The Shadow takes a rest. Waiting for the right time to strike.
