patchwork

i am handing in cobbled together stuff for my writing workshop tomorrow.
i am unimpressed with myself. i am showing people work that i am not proud of.
it hurts.

life is stressing me out. i'm so worried about not getting into graduate school, about this summer not working out, about so many things. i feel lonely in a strange sort of way. it's puzzling.

woot

ok, done with writing fairlyshittystories.
now must do two critiques, and then bed.
i feel a little better now that the main body of my work is done, but still pretty damn stressed.
i have always been scared when my future is at stake, and it seems lately as if it always is.
everything i do seems to have this enormous far reaching potential, and i am deathly afraid that i will fuck it all up.
but i have many blessings to help, and counting them definitely helps. good friends, good books, my wonderful Love.
(that's in no particular order.)
*chants*
I'll be ok, I'll be ok