Doubt
A poem on self-doubt and resilience
What can I say? Opening up is still hard sometimes.
But I’m trying.
Writing about the hard stuff — trauma, loss, grief, diminishment, isolation — is both healing and exhausting. No amount of therapy makes some things “OK,” but putting them into words gives them shape, and sometimes, release.
This poem came early in my time here, when I was still finding my footing. Truthfully, I still wrestle with this feeling.
Doubt
Sometimes I wonder
if I’ll ever make a dent,
if anyone will listen
before my spirit’s spent.
Am I just spiraling—
buzzing to and fro?
Do my words matter;
will I ever know?
I try to be patient,
chase away the noise.
So I can hear clearly
and further tune my voice.
I seem to be shouting
into an endless void;
no one answers back—
I fear they’re annoyed.
That I’m marked by
the traumas I’ve endured,
someone who should quiet—
not worth being heard.
It feels so isolating,
painted in my corner;
maybe I should stop,
search for some place warmer.
These thoughts tangle up,
leave me feeling breathless;
the tears flow hot and fast,
leaving me no respite.
So I write it down
to picture my flaws,
wrestling with my doubts
to better feel my cause.
I’m not giving up—
won’t lock away my muse;
even if no one listens,
this I will still choose.
—Liora
Read next → Sludge
Do you wrestle with self-doubt? What helps you keep creating, speaking, or showing up anyway? Drop a thought below—I’d love to know.
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Liora, your words hit so close to home. I wrestle with the same doubts all the time; wondering if anything I say matters, if it’s just echoing into the void. But then there’s a day someone like you shows up, shares something real, and it keeps me going.
Your poem is a reminder that even in the quiet, what we create can reach someone. Thank you for writing this.
Write for you.. it may seem it enters a void but believe me it teaches us. ❤️