The obnoxious loudmouth at the party

Is being more vulnerable and less perfectionist easier in the daylight? Let's find out.
Since delaying my 20 minutes of stream-of-consciousness soul-baring until the end of the day has thus far proven unsuccessful, or at least inconsistent, we're going to start doing it first thing in the morning.
In theory, it should be easier, because my brain is more alert. But that also means it's more defensive. It's a lot easier to have a "who gives a fuck?" attitude when you're tired and your brain is mushy from staring at a computer for 10 hours than when you're still soft and warm from sleep and the caffeine is starting to hit just right.
My inner critic, as always, is alert as fuck, no coffee needed. It's screaming at me to be brilliant right now. It's whispering in my ear that this is a dumb fucking exercise and who is this for anyway? My inner critic is the obnoxious loudmouth at the party who's sole purpose is to ruin everyone else's good time. My creative soul is the wallflower, hanging back, sipping her White Claw, wanting to be noticed but fearful of making the wrong move. My inner critic is making fun of her for calling herself "creative soul." What kind of new age-y self-love bullshit is that? 
My legs are twitching because I'm having a physical reaction to how uncomfortable this is. Some protective part of my brain is telling me to extricate myself from this situation and distract myself.  Light incense. Go get more coffee. Change the volume on the background music I'm playing. That nasty bitch is coming for me, with all of her vitriol about how I'm not as smart as as I think I am, even if I use two-dollar words like "vitriol." 
I want to plant my feet, look her in the eye, and say, "Go fuck yourself." My timer just went off. I'm still here. So I guess, in my way, I did.