At first, I thought, “No. It is gone. I do not know what I am doing here, I suck, I hate running.” Stop. Stop, stop, stop. I do not hate running. Running has been good to me, for the most part. I crave running. But I forgot how to have fun. I made running complicated. I made myself despise it because all I have been doing is loathing practice everyday and getting far too nervous about being on the traveling team. So what happened? I had consequently bad races. I don’t have that fire I had my senior of high school or that same fire I had at the end of cross country last year and my freshman college year of track. I was a competitor. I knew what I wanted and I wasn’t afraid of it.

I’m afraid. I’m afraid I don’t belong here, afraid the coaches are wondering why I was even recruited here. I’m afraid of failure so intensely that it is becoming true because I spend so much time thinking about it, it is my reality. When I tell myself positive things, they are fake; for I do not really believe them. I have conversations with myself where the goal outcome is positive motivation but somehow I even manage to talk myself out of a positive ending.

I need my confidence back. I want it, I need it. I cannot survive here without it. I need badly to believe in myself. My hierarchy of needs doesn’t start with basics, no, it starts with mental health and dominance. Find it, damnitt.

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