One year ago today,

I don't remember where I was.

I'm sure there were people there.

I'm sure I had many things to do.

But I can't recall what I was doing, or why...

Because I hadn't yet discovered

BACON.

I'm joking, of course.

Who hasn't had bacon, at my age?

But that isn't the subject.

It just so happens, however, that I am an emotionally inept, psychologically unsound, ridiculously insecure

Child of God who can't take anything seriously to save her life.

That includes, of course, Poetry Slams.

Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh, you might say.

She's one of thooooooooooose, you might sigh.

Yes, yes I am.

But that isn't the subject either, is it?

That is my identity, most definitely.

But one year ago today, I was having difficulties.

And I made it through them, with His grace

(and with Page's google),

And here I am still today.

But I'm moving forward, and changing my ways,

Because in all my life I was never destined to stand still.

That's what this is about, isn't it?

This "Poetry Slam."

(Why is it always a Slam? I don't get that).

It's all about moving forward.

Learning new things.

New talents.

New skills.

Getting to know new people, and exploring new places, and growing in purpose and faith and reason.

This is why I am here.

Figuratevely.

On this piece of paper (computer screen) at your fingertips.

Because I'm tired of not taking chances.

Of not trying.

Of not acknowledging who I am and what I'm trying to do and how I'm going to get where I'm going.

I am capable. I want you to know that.

And I am dedicated. I want you to know that too.

And I deserve to be given a second chance...

Becuase one year ago today,

I hadn't yet discovered the truth.

That there is so much disappointment in this world.

That there is so much that I will never, ever be able to do.

That I'm not special.

That I don't deserve any recognition.

That I'm going to fail, spectacularly, at a lot of things

(like this poem)

Before I ever make it anywhere that's just o.k.,

Much less anywhere great.

Today, I know that I'm just one out of a million.

But today, I also know that I'm one in a million (seven billion, to be precise);

One in a million who is taking a chance.

And while I might not be a poet,

And I might not believe in a Poetry Slam,

I am someone who loves what I do.

I am a writer.

I am an artist.

I am a dreamer.

And I am a poor college student.

Please.

HELP.