Sleepwalking Past Hope

I met someone, I met him a year ago, but I was speaking with him in an elevator the other day and he was holding a portfolio. I asked him if he was an artist. He said “technically.”

The rest of the short conversation established what he meant by that. And therein I found someone who understood my hesitation to ever call myself an “artist” or a “writer” even though I hold Bachelor Degrees in both art and creative writing.

If you call yourself an artist or writer there’s this expectation, though I’m not sure that’s the right word. I think by now I’ve established that I’m a very creative person, but I’ve never reached that point where I feel comfortable saying I’m an artist.

I’ve never done much to really put myself out there in the art or literary world. I was just never very confident in my abilities. Maybe I’m afraid to find out. Right now I can just walk around with the delusion, I can still hope.

Really putting myself out there and really finding out my level of worth is a scary thought that I’ve always been too lazy and too scared to try. I know what you’re thinking. I should just go for it – woo-hoo! but at least now I have hope. It can’t be crushed if it’s stagnant. Not until I’m dead anyway.

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