If my confidence could speak you’d soon realise that it was raised with a voice softer than a whisper on deaf ears. It’s damaged vocal cords would give testament to the strenuous training in projections.
It would tell you how it’s always been an echo better yet a shadow but never really its own substance. How it battles with an eating disorder, binging on praises only to throw up on their criticism.
At best, It’d only ask questions cause it’s forever been unsure of itself. At worst it wouldn’t utter a word, but it’d wear its silence as an invisibility cloak.
If my confidence could speak, it would most definitely say to ME, “I’ve carried you this far, SEE ME!” and it wouldn’t even stutter.