Nancy Ann Creed

  The Mirror's Truth I know I am not good enough, I do not need others telling me that. I know my flaws and shortcomings, I see them every day in the mirror. But I am also aware of my strengths, Of the things I am good at. I know that I can achieve great things, If I just believe in myself. So I will not let others' words Defeat me or make me feel worthless. I will not let them define me, Or tell me who I am. I am my own person, With my own unique journey to walk. I will not let anyone else Stand in my way. I will keep moving forward, Even when it is hard. I will keep believing in myself, Even when others don't. Because I know that I am good enough, Even if they don't. More Writings by Nancy Ann Carber The Shadow Realm Chronicles Maeve Ebooks http://payhip.com/NancyAnnCreed Ebooks & Paperbacks Maeve http://books2read.com/u/m25Ygd

  Photo by cottonbro studio on Pexels.com Acceptance is the Key The weight of a thousand eyes presses down, A silent, ceaseless judgment that I drown Within. I worry too much, an endless loop Of anxious thoughts, a psychological stoop About how others see me—the fleeting glance, The subtle shift, the judgment they advance. Each interaction is a stage, a test, Where my own self-worth is put to the best Or worst assessment by an external gauge. I turn each minor slip into a mental cage. I worry too much, an unrelenting fear, About whether they like me, holding me dear, Or casting me aside with cold indifference. The need for approval is a fierce presence, A hunger I can never seem to appease, Searching for acceptance on every breeze. I worry too much, the constant, weary drain, About what others think, the imagined stain They see upon my character or my name. This scrutiny I project is a cruel game, Where I am both the player and the prize, Obsessed with the mirrors in other peop...

  Photo by Ismael Sánchez on Pexels.com I am broken. The words, sharp and unwarranted, slice through the fragile shell I built. Tiny, invisible blades, their power immense, carving my heart into scattered, irreparable pieces. My carefully constructed dreams, ambitious plans, vital goals— all crumble before this onslaught, a lifetime of building reduced to dust. My essence, fractured, lies on the cold floor. Why do these ephemeral sounds, mere vibrations in the air, hurt so? Why grant them such devastating power, to tear the fabric of our being, to leave us utterly immobilized? With a deep, shuddering breath, I rise. Muscles protest, heavy with despair. I kneel, picking mangled, bleeding pieces from the unforgiving floor, cradling the remnants, a silent cry. I try, with feverish intensity, to mend— reaching for glue, tape, harsh staples. But none of them hold. The cracks are too deep, the breaks too fundamental. A heart shattered by words cannot be fixed by physical objects...