#this is all to say that i'd pay someone in bone marrow if they'd look at my work and tell me objectively wether or not i should skip town

[artigas]

it's a long story, but i unknowingly signed up for a hybrid course this semester -- queer fiction, which sounded like a pleasure to study and right up my alley in terms of research interests, but i had no idea that it was a creative writing hybrid course, that we'd have to share our personal writings with the class.

i don't know why i did it, but i signed up for one of the earliest workshops. i had to give out a small handout of my work -- a few short poems, a small little ... fiction? reflection? story? i don't even know what to call it. eight pages total, not very long. but i handed it out and on wednesday my gorgeous lesbian professor and my classmates (none of whom i know except for one very sweet girl, shiv) have to give me feedback.

anyways. anyways. i'm having anxiety nightmares about it. i had a nightmare that they just mocked me to pieces over my silly poems. that my professor asked: why would you think to hand this in?

i woke up clenching my teeth bad. and i'm terribly nervous for wednesday. and some small, silly part of me wants to badly to have somebody tell me: you're okay, your writing isn't shit and you aren't shit and you didn't just open yourself up for humiliation because you wrote something with your name attached. sharing your writing has always felt like baring your soul to strangers and i know you had a terribly traumatic experience about this when you were a kid, but you're safe now. you're safe. you get to tell stories and you are not going to get in trouble. it's a mortifying ordeal, being known, but maybe it isn't so bad to know you. whew. whew!!

#personal #this is all to say that i'd pay someone in bone marrow if they'd look at my work and tell me objectively wether or not i should skip town