I may have a small problem with my ego. Sure, I know that just because I may find the work that I do to be amazing, doesn 't mean that everyone will think that my writing pieces are the best and hold it up for the world to see. But how in the world did I get into Intro to Creative Writing? Am I so untalented that I 'm forced to relearn the bedrock, the basic necessities of writing. I don 't think so.
" I don 't think that it 's that big of a deal, " my friend Lua chided into her coffee, " If you 're knowledgeable of your own talent, what does it matter? What everyone else thinks really shouldn 't faze you that much."
"Lua, your brilliance is only validated by the opinions of others, ' ' I sighed. "You 're an artist, you of all people should understand. One cruddy painting, and your life is
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' '
" I guess." Lua muttered.
" Whatever, bye" I left for class.
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"Hello everyone, my name is Mrs. Martinez, and I 'll be your Intro to Creative Writing teacher!" I glared at her, hoping that if I stared hard enough my class schedule would magically correct itself (it didn 't). She seemed to sense my negative energy and sighed, as though I was a chore she would have to deal with. "I 'm looking forward to teaching you all this year," she glanced at me, " well, most of you." She handed us pieces of paper with prompts for writing pieces on them. I raised my hand.
" Mrs. Martinez how is it possible that I of all people, became stuck in a class for the asinine people who couldn 't write a story for a picture book!" I wailed. My classmates looked at me, annoyed, rubbing their temples. Mrs. Martinez took out a bottle of aspirin. She began to rub her temples as well and sighed.
"You know, your past teachers have warned me about you."
"What are you