I realized, just after I hit "publish," that while I had thought and felt every single thing I wrote yesterday, I didn't necessarily believe what I had written. It would be easier, or at least a different kind of hard, to live a different life. I have a full-time job. I could stop going to school, stop writing, etc. I've made this choice to live this life and I'm going to live it.
I wanted to tell you that I survived yesterday, survived last night. That my line breaks are shoddy and I drift off into adjectival fragments and my writing requires thought and revision. That in the last line of the penultimate stanza, she wrote "ah!" That my writing is worth thought and revision.
Thank you for letting my cry on your shoulder last night. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have some writing to do.
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1 comments:
and you forget to mention that your professor thought your poem was brilliant.
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