Purpose is not void of Doubt.

I sit in that high journalism chair, with a flat screen starring back at me and my note book scribbled with little notes. All the words begging to be assimilated into a story- hopefully one that is newsworthy, full of human interest, ready to trailblaze the status quo. But sometimes, the plain unpopular truth is that i don’t always feel like a journalist. I see the word echoed to me everyday from the moment I wake up and put on my idealism armour. To the way i’m learning how to train my eye to be more skeptical of the world. To how I try and actualize myself into this vocation. The need to belong and safely nestle myself in this title.
Never in my life have I felt sooo excited and so deeply unsure of myself. What a double-edged sword. The heart is there, the desire usually at the precipice but the certainty and corresponding feedback is not always as affirming as I would hope. I generally wear my heart on my sleeve, but i’m learning the many ways that I will have to clothe my heart if I hope for any resilience and staying power as a journalist.
“Journalism by its very nature has to be challenging and iconoclastic or else it is servile” – Ferrial Haffajee.
Surely, I will have to keep writing, and failing and writing and being unsure and writing and sewing my confidence and writing and seeing myself as a writer and writing and eventually being one. No matter what the ache in my chest says… I am grateful though that through it all, I have never woken up and doubted that I’m doing exactly what I’m meant to be doing. And there’s a quiet victory in that.


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