Staying positive

School is not my identity. Writing is not my identity.

I have to remember this when my nonfiction professor calls me out in class because I’m the only one of 17 who hasn’t joined in any of the discussions. And when she calls on me, I have nothing to say.

…when I actually do have good things to bring to the discussions but I can’t get the words out.

…when my classmates talk about writers I’ve never heard of and use words I can’t define (ALL the time).

…when I realize people are making friends with each other, yet I still hold everyone at arm’s length, constantly putting myself on the outside of circles and imagining that’s where I belong.

…when I read poems that are impossibly amazing.

…when I read poems that are terrible but people praise them, and I wonder what’s the point of trying to write well, if it’s so subjective?

…when I realize there is always someone better suited for the things I’m doing—the internships, the writing, the GSA. I find I’m not nearly as good at things as I thought.

…when I spend all day reading and writing for class and feel guilty for taking breaks.

…when I fall in love with writing, and then find this romance shattering my heart when doubts arise.

...when I look back on the only poem of mine that I love and realize I can never do it again.