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The inner critic. Convinced he will save you by making sure you correspond to his ideal. And he will accept nothing less, because if you are anything less than his ideal, you won’t be loved, heard, or even worthy of existing. Kind of a big deal, right?

Well… breaking news. However convincing he may be, it’s bs. You don’t need to please that inner-critic anymore. You don’t need to reach that ideal anymore. You never did, really, but you needed to believe it then, when expressing your actual truth didn’t feel safe. You needed to protect your truth, then, and share something else instead, something more ideal. You weren’t ready yet, then*. And that is actually exactly the way it’s supposed to be, that’s what I find mind-blowing in this life.

Let me show you the beauty I see:

So the actual Truth is that what is coming out of you Right Now is enough. It’s fucking epic. The definition of epicness is not what everyone told you it was. Your mind might be telling you epicness is when the pitch is perfect, or when the painting is perfectly resembling, but that’s actually a scam. A coping mechanism connected to millions of others you built a long time ago. Maybe lifetimes ago, who knows. No need for that anymore because there is nothing attacking anymore. You are here now, and you can choose to know how safe you already are in sharing your imperfect truth.

The actual magical truth is: treat everything that comes out of you as gold, and it will become it. Hack the mind. It knows not: under his protective appearance, supposedly from the sh!t, your inne