Dear Watcher (the critic in me)

Dear Watcher (the critic in me), I know that you mean well, to correct me most of the time. But really you slow me down. You've been telling for the past year and many months that writing for me is just dead and buried and will never see the day of resurrection. You discourage by telling me that there are better and more important things to be done, and many others that are really important that have to be set aside for now. You tell me basically that I am really an idiot and do not have the skill to write nor will ever have the inclination to. Not even with an outlining or mind-mapping program. Is this my fate and destiny? Limited to wishing but never ever coming to the realization of my dreams? or at least to whip something out with whatever God has given me or this brain of mind controlling the keyboard, not comfortable as it may be to bang on? But hey, I want you to be quiet for a while and just let me be and let me do. I believe, that without your critical spirit and your nasty words, the creativity in me will fluorish and eventually as this person is accustomed to this deed, then perhaps one day, with the continuous sharpening of the blade of creativity, one day I will be a writer. And I believe even now, that I am. And you cannot stop that. You cannot tell me to wait and stop and pause and think more about this, consider this and consider that, and develop your words with the utmost care, think about the grammar and misplaced punctuation because they might look really ugly and unprofessional. So there, be quiet.