My Pet Dragon

picsA swallow that’s just a smidge too loud. A laugh of someone in the room next door. Pages turning sound like hurricanes. The air is too hot. Your clothes are too heavy. Someone sniffs. How dare they?

Sometimes every little thing, every corner of the earth, has a single goal: to piss you off.

It’s easy to say, “I’m just irritated”. To brush it off like it were a fly landing on your cupcake.

But somehow, that fly has turned into a fuming dragon settling on top of your life, breathing in your air and out fire that burns your hair.

How does no one else see the dragon perched on your shoulders? Continue reading

Advertisements

Rejection, Doubt, and Acceptance.

13765830_10210295914338318_3015040440471482001_o“Don’t worry, keep trying!” “You know Harry Potter was rejected eleven times before it was finally accepted!” “You’re a great writer.”

Rejection is the number one worry, fear and warning when someone desires to be a writer. The process of publication is a torturous, tiring and time consuming one. You’re work must be pristine, void of mistakes, sellable and original. A typo and you’re out. A cliche and NIX. Crappy cover letter? Don’t even bother submitting. Never been published? Sucks to suck!

The more you submit, the better chances of being accepted but also the more rejection letters you receive, and soon they start piling on themselves. Soon, the gracious rejection letter starts to sound like this: Continue reading

Questions.

13329365_10209856672357543_2511492478186887590_oI have this thing going where I want to speak up for the voiceless and fight for the hopeless and make a difference. I want to end oppression and make privilege seen. And then while I’m sitting in Starbucks with a slight pain in my throat from getting a surgery that wasn’t necessary to my life thinking ‘maybe I could go to the doctor to get more medicine’ and ‘I’ll just go home and sit with my hardworking, loving parents to bring my mood up’ I start to wonder why I think I have the right to be the voice for the voiceless.

Is there a point where the privilege you didn’t ask for voids your attempt to speak up for the oppressed?

Will I ever truly understand the trials the people I’m fighting for go through?

Will anything ever change? Is anything worth it? Or should I just sit with my 4$ cup of coffee, watching my violent TV show and ignore the cries around me? Continue reading