A Promise to Myself

One of the hardest parts
about
being a writer
is one I'm learning.
There are so many people
who have said so many good things
and arranged their words so well,
that I feel like I need to eat up all of their words and arrangements
to be the best kind of writer I can be.

Problems exist in this plan.
I end up
never feeling
like I will be able to read all that is on my list
of good writing and beautiful arrangement.
But in the midst of trying,
I tend to not actually write.
Ms. Britt told me
a writer is someone who writes.
If I don't actually write,
that makes me not much of a writer then.
It needs to be different, see,
because I have so much to say--
so much that sometimes
the thoughts
tumble over each other
and I can't get them out fast enough.
At night,
it's like my ears
are fighting for the pillow
while I toss and turn,
arranging and rearranging sentences
in my head
that are buried again
by morning.

It will be different.
It must be different.


But I have to make it so.