The paper crumpled in her hands is covered in red. She's crying softly.
Your writing is clearly below average and lacks quality.
I'd consider transferring to a community college and rethinking an English major. Not everyone is meant to be a writer.
That girl- the one with odd, impossible dreams- that was me.
I've come a long way from crying on the university bathroom floor. I still remember that feeling of being utterly crushed, like all of my dreams were galaxies away. And yet, that good thing that never feels like it's going to happen- I open my palms to find it there. I open my mouth to tell you it has. I open my heart and find that the right words were there all along.
It's with a humble heart and cheer of celebration that I redirect you to (in)courage:
I'm a guest writer today.
Stories, words, writing, sharing life-
sharing all of this with you-
it means more to me than you know
and I'm honored to be apart of it.
so thank you-