I am a writer.
I am a hack, but I’m such a genius that I can hide it, after enough editing. I read that in a book, but I just tweaked it here, you see. I like that book.
I am insecure, sometimes. I can’t help it, but I always move past it. What do you want me to say?
Maybe I’m not such a hack. Not always. With flash fiction I might be a genius… or too blind to see the small mistakes.
I am me, nobody else. No one can write what I do.
Yeah, you may try to match up to me, but you never will. 😛
My life is my own. Not boring, not exciting. Just mine. And that doesn’t matter, anyway, because I like it the way that it is.
Maybe I should get a day job. Maybe I should. But no worries, they’ll see how awesome I am.
But it’s the stream of my subconscious… just the usual sort of thing I have to tell myself while I’m insecure. Nothing wrong with that… right?
Tell me, do I sound pessimistic in this? Because I can be, you know. Jana’s thing wasn’t pessimistic as this; she did say she was an optimist, though…
And there I go again. And I didn’t think I felt insecure before I did this…