I’ve put the final full-stop

I am somewhat happy

for split seconds I wear a smile on my face

grinning from ear to ear, revealing a set of coloured teeth

confronted with the reality of proof-reading; that smile wears-off



I stare at my laptop screen with contempt whereas; it’s my conscience that should get that treatment

With a heart as heavy as an anvil, I crosscheck

I notice all my typos and the recurring ‘big-big-grammar’ – they may cause confusion I say to myself

I correct the typos

I streamline the chaotic words

for the sake of the readers

they are all that matter of course



or could it be



Fear, insecurity

That annoying voice in my head that chimes in,

eerily similar to my dead grandmother’s that says

‘cut this out’ ‘remove this’ ‘no! this isn’t deep enough’… and I give in ?



I’m a click away from publishing

my fingers stealthily hover around the mouse and

‘click’ it’s published.



I’m scared, frightened and unsettled

Criticism and negative feedback the major cause

my only comfort are my nails- they become edible.



I’m all gloomy ‘cos no one knows the nub of the post

The intricacies of what happens before I click the publish button- no one knows

No one would ever know.

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