Basics.

Self-sabotage is rarely loud. It's not fireworks and explosions. It’s quiet. It's that soft, persistent hum of doubt that plays just underneath your wins, your progress. It's a compilation of bad character traits—or rather, misunderstood habits formed in survival, masked as personality. It's inconsistency dressed as spontaneity. It's hesitation mistaken for humility. It's pride acting as a decoy for pain. You find yourself in moments you once prayed for, and yet something in you whispers, "Are you sure you're supposed to be here?" So in a twisted act of self-preservation—of misguided good faith—you ruin it. You reply late. You shut down emotionally. You hold back when you should lean in. You flee love before it can reveal you. You delay progress before it demands accountability. And in the ruins, there's a strange comfort. A sick, sweet familiarity of being unchosen. Of confirming the belief that you were never enough in the first...