One more left to go

I’m not good at presentations. But I want to get better.

This week I have two in work.

One I volunteered for, one I did not.

I prepared my presentation and wrote out my notes. I read my presentation to myself. I felt happy. I felt like I knew which words to say, and in what order. I didn’t see how it could go wrong.

But it did.

One minute in and I spat onto my chin.

Five minutes in my partner walked past in his boxer shorts (I told him I was presentating).

Six minutes in and my panic made my ears ring.

I wanted to stop. Restart. I wanted the words swilling around in my head to leave my mouth.

The urge to give up becomes overwhelming. I love writing, and I find it so easy for my ideas to flow on a page. It feels so incredibly sad that I can’t vocalise these words.

I splat.

But I’ll try again tomorrow.

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