friday morning

my head is spinning with projects. being in school makes me feel like i've been offered an all-exclusive pass to something—i'm not sure what.

my future as a writer?

in the last few months i've seen my work torn to shreds. i've seen myself reconstruct it in a way i wouldn't have thought i could. i've seen my own potential. i've seen my style peeking out from under the intricate mathematics of words and language. i've seen some beautiful stories, some beautiful essays. i've seen myself a thousand miles from that beauty, and then i've seen that i'm already on my way.