The tent is billowing and sturdy. It's firmly implanted into the ground, the rooms are huge and spacious, the people are rowdy and messy. It's impossible to think about anything else. You know it's just a tent and logic tells you that it's not as strong as a house, yet it feels all powerful.
The same goes with words. When you hear something or read something bad about yourself, it can shake everything that you believe in. The mind can play tricks. Suddenly it's the idea: What if they're right? What if I am this or that?
We thrive off other people's approval. We all want to be liked, stroked, appreciated. We want to be told, "Hey you're brilliant!" even if we'll never, ever believe it. Yet, the moment we start living for other people's approval is when we lose everything. If I changed based on every single person's opinion of me, I would be a different Amanda everyday.
I recently had a bout with insecurity based on the above. I hate that I can't be the girl who lets it all slide off her back, or the girl who walks into a room wearing lime green pants and a bird on her head and doesn't care who's watching. I also hate when I become this rambling, insecure, mess of a person who can't articulate herself because she's so easily persuaded to believe the worst. It took a week, but I decided that if I'm going to be a writer, I have to be prepared for the critics. Moving forward, I need to try and be stronger.
Not A Model's last words: if you're not hurting anyone, trying your hardest and working towards something that you love, there isn't anything that someone else can say that can bring that down.
And with nothing more than a sneeze, the tent collapses.