Last night was fun.

I have a small-ish group of friends and we see one another frequently. These are the girls who've seen me at my best and worst, who know my fears and dreams better than anyone, including myself.

But one thing they're in the dark about is my writing.

It's not that I don't want them to cheer me on or that I don't dream of the day when they buy my first paperback and brag to their other friends about me (hahaha, I'm such a narcissist!), but I do dread the day when they see how terrible at writing I am.

I feel like a sham 90% of the time I tell people I'm a writer. I don't think I deserve the title. And maybe that's why I resent editing so much. I know that try as I might to break into the writing industry, there's a small likelihood that I won't fulfill this dream.

What then?

It's stupid and insecure, but it all makes sense now. I now fully understand why I trust people I meet online with my "little darlings" (that is to say the things I write) when I hesitate to share my stories with those closest to me.

It's so easy to feel insignificant and unimportant at the age of 24 (almost 25!) when it was so easy to believe that the things I wrote were magic and that the dreams I dreamed would soon be realized only a few years ago.

What changed? Did moving to Montreal and falling in love with both a city and a boy screw me over? I mean, HE believed in my dreams. He thought they were wonderful and big and that I would achieve them.

When did I stop? And is there a way in which I can go back to being the fearless version of myself? The version that not only believed in the power of positive thinking, but was convinced I would make it?

BAH. BAH, I SAY! I need to stop being so negative.