I keep collecting advice
like I\'m going to use it someday.
Be patient.
Be fearless.
Trust yourself.
They stack up in my head
like unopened letters
addressed to someone
more capable than me.
I know exactly what to do.
That\'s the problem.
There\'s a gap
between understanding
and believing
that no one prepares you for.
I watch myself hesitate
as if from another room;
aware, alert,
still unmoving.
Potential is a strange burden.
It promises everything
and demands nothing;
until you realize
it\'s been quietly accusing you
the whole time.
I don\'t fear failure.
I fear proving
that I was never meant
to be more than this.
So I stand still,
perfectly informed,
perfectly unsure,
waiting for certainty
to arrive like permission.
It never does.