I used to.

"In college, I used to underline sentences that struck me, that made me look up from the page. They were not necessarily the same sentences the professors pointed out, which would turn up for further explication on an exam. I noted them for their clarity, their rhythm, their beauty and their enchantment. For surely it is a magical thing for a handful of words, artfully arranged, to stop time. To conjure a place, a person, a situation, in all its specificity and dimensions. To affect us and alter us, as profoundly as real people and things do."

-- In “My Life’s Sentences,” Jhumpa Lahiri

I've been thinking.

A lot, actually, about this dream in particular.

I was in the middle of a field; expansive, without an end; yellow, everywhere.

I felt older than the world, yet breathing for the first time. 

My body was small; a child's. 

My hands held up daffodils to the skies. I kissed the wilted ones; blowing pussywillows, waltzing with a cd the wind.

I looked up. They had all turned into birds, flying away, leaving me behind.

Becoming a "real" writer.

These days, I no longer feel like a sham when I tell someone I'm a writer. 

It's almost an honor, really, to be able to do so.

But why did I wait until I had the full-time professional title to feel this way? Sure, it feels nice to have the highest salary of my career thus far, doing something I am passionate about. Sure, I worked hard to become a writer. 

But the truth is, I've always been a writer, ever since I was a wee child. I've always been a dreamer, an imaginer in my own world. I was a writer before anyone ever paid me for my words. I became a writer when I mailed my first story about a lost puppy to my grandparents.

So why did I wait?

I waited because I could feel people judging. I felt them laughing, and rolling their eyes at me. I felt them scoffing. 

Yes. That's it. For a rebellious wildcard who typically doesn't give a shit about what people think of me, when it came to my writing, I felt sheepish and shy claiming writing as an identity v. a hobby. 

I felt silly. And unworthy.

I have never been more confident in who I am as a person. Here's to becoming a more confident writer, too.

Have faith.

"Have faith that you're well-equipped for what's ahead."

I really needed to read that tonight.

Conflicted.

I am excited. And terrified.

Yesterday Husband found me perched on the edge of our bed, in tears. Our life together is going to be irreversibly changed moving forward -- and while deep down I know there are many more beautiful, happy moments ahead, and I am so, so looking forward to what's in store for us with all of my heart ... I am also scared, and apprehensive, in the smallest, quietest of ways. I am doubtful in my abilities in this new role. And yet in the same way that I just somehow "knew" my husband would have a very special place in my life the second I laid eyes on him, I also know that I had unknowingly been waiting for this moment my entire life.