Part of my awesome writing self-assessment letter.

I realized a long time ago that I had a problem, I am a really short writer. I imagine everyone with this problem is like me. We cannot get to page lengths. We fail at writing novels or long dissertations. I saw the signs of this problem even before I took classes this semester. Fourteen pages required became a meager looking seven in my history classes. Where my professors looked at me bewildered but gave me an A anyways. Things like “good narrative sense,” and “research rigor is strong” were among the good comments that I have received in my 4 years in this university. But despite my writerly accomplishments I have also run into a few people whom, no matter how hard I tried to please them, would get stuck and confused on my lack of fluff. Currently these classes, are not that sort of classes for me, and for that I am thankful. It is hard to bullshit my life and I am not about to. Taking two writing classes and noticing the duality of fiction and non-fiction and how it relates to me has shown me this. I don’t even add unneeded words to my fake writing.

Photo By: Poonomo

I’ve noticed that my fiction voice is not that much different from my non-fiction voice. My mind talks to me in quick and sometimes almost beautiful fragmented images. It is hard for me to fully describe them at times and even now all I see are beautiful fragments of things that I want to write here. Unfortunately they’re not saying that I deserve an A. My indecisive self that is still not sure if I am a fantastic writer is telling me that to be a good writer I need to average 20 pages a day of pure poetic voice. Indecisive Self says that when I reach that goal I should write an assessment letter. But until then I should keep my mouth shut and keep working on perfecting my essays.

I feel like this is never going to end...

I have some good news and some bad news. I'll tell you the good news first. I am getting another poem published. Probably in the July issue of the Birmingham Arts Journal. So check that magazine out and let me know what you think.
Birmingham Arts Journal

The bad news is: Now that school is winding down I'm once again feeling that stir of upsetting feelings. I feel like there is so much I want to do but I never accomplish much of anything. I should feel thankful and grateful for what I have done. I am, trust me, I am. I appreciate everything and appreciate myself for what I've been able to pull myself through.

I feel like as the semester circles the drain that I am with it. Maybe it is my reading material and movie selection as of late. But I feel like whatever hopeful feelings I have left are being blown, piece by piece, out the proverbial window. I grasp for them and try to call them back. But they're already gone.

If I could pin down a day when I started to feel like I was falling to pieces I don't know if I would be able to make it public. I don't remember the catalyst I just remember the people who helped. People who, despite me trying to be amazing and perfect, made me feel like complete scum. Made me feel worthless. Who told me I was a fantastic writer, a beautiful person, but (what I feel to be) purposely left me to feel like I was less-than mediocre.

That is the scariest part of humans and human relationship. When it all boils down we'll only take advantage of situations. We'll apologize, insincerely, for only being human. I try so hard everyday to not be human. To be atypical in love, in living, in speaking. Throwing pieces of myself out to the world. To just give. Knowing that nothing will ever be given to me.

I need space...

I'm 23 years old. I've lived in a house for almost 18 years where I had to share a room with a little sister. I have also lived in a small apartment with another person where I had my own room but it still didn't feel like it was my own space. That, I would assume, is because my father lived in the same small apartment with me. I also lived in residence halls too. I really do like them, I liked having a roommate but I no longer wish to live with another person.
As I stated before I am 23 years old. I need my own space to do my own things. I want to be alone. The only problem is that my university doesn't offer enough affordable single living options. I'm so sick of this I just want to be free. I want to be happy. I'm so depressed. I'm so sick of seeing people everyday. I just want a break.

sometimes when i'm laughing at something i feel like I'm being ingenious... awkward...or I just get general air of uncomfortable vibes. But is it the other person lying or is it me? Because...it always happens around people I love to be around. (But I'm not around that much) Certain coworkers, friends I barely see, I really like them. I just don't want them to feel like I'm putting on or tolerating them. Because I'd gladly tolerate them. I think the majority of them are so awesome.

Swimming, Swimming, Swimming.

I'm moving through,
passing the world like a parallel line.
Never touching.

Today I was sitting in Maag thinking...

nothing

I broke down crying. Drinking water and crying.

I've had such a horrible day.








?