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Youths eyes oversee truth Captained by a world of hatred Too young yet too old A thin line of reality “To me, the greatest pleasure of writing is not what it's about, but the inner music that words make.” Truman Capote

Wednesday, April 30, 2008

Fist Day

The title is spelled correctly don't worry.

Okay so, today was a fist day - a fist day is one in which you feel like you've been punch - and it was one because, well, I didn't win a contest. I know shallow right. I entered a writing contest at my school earlier this year. The piece I had put in wasn't one of my greatest by a freaking' long shot, but I still thought I had a good chance. Apparently not so much. At the end of the day, I was leaving to go to the Library down the hill from my school and my friend runs up and says "Our English teacher just told me - kind of she didn't say specifically but anyways - I won the writing contest." She’s all smiles and I feel like I've been punch. All I could say was good job and smile...and then quickly rush out of the school.

I feel so bad for feeling like I do, but it come with the skill. As I've said I'm a pretty good writer (I'll probably post a story or two) and I've been told, multiple times which I guess has gone to my head. So, when I hear someone who I know has done a better job than I have in the writing department, I'm crushed. I feel like screaming "I'M THE WRITER! NOT YOU! THIS IS MY JOB!" but of course I don't. Thank God for self-tact and discretion.


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