When The Thought Of Success...

Turns into a paralyzing fear; that is when you have to acknowledge that you a problem....

Last week, I was featured in the launch edition of an online magazine (Urban Cache Magazine). I was excited about it and it was pretty cool because that was the second time that has happened to me. In 2012, I was featured in the launch edition of another online magazine (L'Amour Divine). A few years back, I was asked to be a guest speaker for a group of young girls because I was a positive influence. Twice, I was asked to be the guest speaker in my old Lit Professor's class; she deemed me the "Poet Laureate" of her class. I enjoy these moments because this is what I strive for. Or at least I thought I did...

As I stand by a friend and fellow writer, I'm able to watch all of her dreams come true through her talent. She's been such an inspiration and that's what I want for myself. That's what I keep telling myself that's what I want anyway...

The very thought that my dreams might actually come true strikes a fear deep within me that I'm actually embarrassed to speak about. Like a dear caught in headlights, I am riddled with a paralyzing fear. I can't exactly put my finger on the exact reason why, so I don't even try to. I honestly don't think that it has anything to do with the exposure, but more or less, the personal aspect of it all...

That friend that I previously mentioned, said that she loves my writing because it's "transparent". One does not have to guess or weed through what it is that I want to say and I suppose that makes sense. I mean really, why beat around the bush? But like, my writing is ME. It's a form of ME. It's an expression of ME. It's the exposure of ME...

Right before I left my job, I sold about 50 copies of "A Deeper Me" and that was awesome coming from me! I shied away a couple of times but then those times were few and far between. Word of mouth helped too. I was grateful that no one really wanted to discuss a particular poem because that is when I truly withdraw. Well, on one or two occasions, there were a couple of people that felt the need to discuss and dissect a poem that caught their eye and I'm not going to lie, the entire conversation had me wishing I were somewhere else. It was awkward for me to the point of being painful. To the reader, they are just words but to the writer, THIS writer, it's my life...