Apart of me loves the scraps, I’ve held onto from my past. My meager creations, are everything I’d hoped they’d be. They speak with the voice, that flows like honey from my confident, and witty alter ego. Conveying the ideas I like to entertain are worthy of every award.
But another part of me cringes at the faux pas and arrogance. The obvious errors, and novice methods, are enough to force a ashamed cry from me. Should I be confronted with the scraps face to face…should they see the light of day, I’d likely shudder, mortified. For I know well the ridiculous amount of loftiness and melodrama they bare.
But, secretly, when it is just me, reveling in nostalgia, I smile all the same. Because beneath the layer of sloppiness and poor quality is something good. Something I can cut out, shine and polish. A voice that is mine, and rings uninhibited and true.