Self-fulfilling

I have this conversation with myself probably about once a week. In every friendship, relationship, job, project, what-have-you, I go through this high of a honeymoon phase where everything is perfect and wonderful and nothing could ever go wrong. It’s great. Then I remember my anxiety, my flaws, my doubts, and I become fixated on the idea that I am incapable of not ruining everything. It goes from a fear to a certainty, an obsession, and that obsession actually ends up ruining things. It feels like a horrible sort of inescapable paradox, and it’s been that way as long as I can remember.

I don’t always fuck it up, of course. Sometimes I do, sometimes I fight through it and everything is okay. Every single comics project I’ve been involved in in the last year has elicited at least one of these moments. {Oh god, that issue/drawing/pitch is bad, they’re going to fire me, I might as well quit.} It’s so frustrating. I am my own worst enemy.

“I’m going to stop making personal comics,” she said. Good lord. Never listen to me.