That one Poetry Contest

This little black book in my hands is the key to All of My Success. Deep within the confines of this tethered papyrus are poems that express the darkest crevasses of my soul. And they will all be relinquished today at this poetry contest. For weeks, I've rehearsed and practiced all of the dark ideas that have ravaged through my membrane. Thinking of which one I should open up the world 2. See today I'm entering a poetry contest worth $20,000. I usually just read my poetry out loud to people and you know a lot of people have told me that I'm pretty good at it. Therefore I want to try something different, something big, get my name out there.

The prize money is something that I really want. However I’m nervous that people won’t feel my poetry. I think I have a decent voice that can reach a great number of people and teach them something.at the same time, I’m feverishly afraid of being booed because i may misspell or stutter on a word. From there people might boo me or I might shake in my boots and mess up completely. This little black book quells my thinking but only for short bursts. A lot of the pages within it wield affirmations. “ you’re brilliant” and “ the world wants to see your true value through your words.” are some of the quotes I use to motivate myself.

This contest is actually a good idea for me contrary to my dark beliefs. The Talk to Me Nice Poetry contest is what it was called. My friend put me on to it, “you should try this out,” they said. And me, being as shy as I usually am, brushed it off initially. It was thanks to a little push and some convincing from my close friends I eventually decided” why not?” See as much as I love sharing my poems with people, I'm also very shy, and I don't like sharing out of my little black book. My black book Is my sanctuary, it was a gift from my grandmother who passed away ten years ago. She wrote inside of it never give up, share your dreams with the world, and forever right until your hearts can no longer connect to the papyrus.

Almost a decade, writing little ideas and trinkets, setting goals, and putting polish you whenever I can. It's been a long journey, something that I truly don't share as much as I should. That's only my fear of failure, my lack of great thoughts. When it comes to thinking that I can actually share with the world. The fear that people may not like what I'm writing. But today, that's all going to change. This little black book is going to change the trajectory of my life. It's going to win me this $20,000. And these people I'm going to reach? They're going to know who I really am. They're going to know my name today.

As I sit backstage writing in this little black book, preparing myself, rewriting my versus and reciting what I have to say on stage , I feel a burst of nerves Trickling through my toes and all the way up until the tip of my spine. I've never shared this black book. Most of the poems in this one are for me, myself, and only my closest friends. But they said that you should share out of this one rather than the ones in your Google Docs. I don't know why they would want me to share out of the book rather than what I've already shared with everyone else. A Google doc forms of already rehearsed, they're good they are easier to go off of. The little black book is more so something that I keep for the dark days. “The dark days are what people resonate to the most. People like to hear things that they can relate to, a lot of people are going through similar struggles as you are.” My friend Preston said one day before I decided to accept this offer to be a part of this poetry contest. I didn't really understand what he was saying. Why would anyone have similar struggles to what I'm struggling with? What will my words do to make them feel any better?. I've had these questions all the way up until this moment. However, here I am preparing to read those words that will come out of my mouth. They will either shatter the very existence of what I believe in, or crumble me under the pressure that I feel is going to make me not be able to recite the words. Then I’ll stutter all throughout the entire poem. Either way it's time. It's showtime. I don’t have the chance to go back on what I committed to.

As I sit backstage and listen to the other contestants read off their poems I can feel the chills running through my spine again. Closer and closer to my time and all I can think of is this can either be a shitshow or the greatest experience of my life. And then I think back to what my grandmother said. “Positivity is what makes life so beautiful. Think positive thoughts the positive results will come from those actions”. So I breathe in, and I breathe out one last time. And I hear my name, “coming to the stage". And with one jolt of confidence I stand up knees shaking fear flying everywhere and my little black book grasped in my sweaty pants. Preparing myself for the greatest moment of my life, here I go.

I walk up to the stage and stay into the spotlight. Thousands of dark eyes and silhouettes stare up deep into my soul preparing for me to let out every bit of it. However, before my voice can shake, introducing myself I hear loud screams and cheers and suddenly that lack of confidence I once had turns into full-blown appreciation for the person I am. And with every bit of my soul I prepare myself to recite this poem for these people. All of the sweat that was trickling down my face, all the fingers that were mushy suddenly dried up. Oh the fear I felt a failing In This Moment, turned into excitement. And I pocket my lips, Open my black book, and I begin to recite.

The loneliness was forcing me to crumble...

Long nights stuck within these four walls in a house full of people

I was unraveling...

All I could feel was my soul shattering in the madness of my own mind.

The loud music was deafening my screams inside

I couldn’t force myself to cry...

These two tear ducts stopped the cascades of pain, anxiety, and depression from rushing out my eyes

And as I stared down this large bottle of dark alcohol in this seemingly empty bottle that only enhanced my sorrow into a full pitch-black room of despair

I learned the hate within myself was directed toward the man in the mirror

I never loved myself

And these college years I spent staring at this dry paint revealed the whole parts that made me I hated so deeply

I witness myself rot in a box I designed myself.

The long moments attempting to fit in trying to find myself

All the failed attempts to discover the man that was jammed within this condensed soul,

I was lost

I spent so much time running away from me, adjusting to everything around me like a chameleon avoiding a predator, my inferiority complex forced me to shrink in a world where I was supposed to enlarge

Now staring back from a distant star at the past matter in the rearview I thank myself for the time I spent learning this valuable lesson

I am enough, I’ve always been

And as I shine like the star I am I hope not to blind you with everything I am but to be a guiding light to anyone being swallowed by their own darknesses.

This is my moment, I’m here to claim it. It is because of the darkness I embraced that I am capable of shining in the pitches of blacks.

I now am on the attack, seeking new challenges

Hopeful, replacing the emptiness that was hopeless

Redefining the design that the divine meticulously devised for me

Shedding the skin I was once in

Emulating the persona of a wholesome being

Rising like the phoenix from the ashes of an old, cold life

Taking everything that belongs to me

I am, because of what I was. Signed.

Sincerely a Hopeless Creative

Confessions of a Hopeless creative

Suddenly cheers in fingers being snapped raised on as I finished up my poem. Wolves in tears started to come out of the crowd. I can see if I can feel myself smiling as I balance a thank you softly into the crowd. Everything I thought was going to happen didn't happen. Everything I wanted to happen did though. I wanted people to hear my voice. I want people to know who I was. I was so afraid of failing and I was so afraid of thinking that people wouldn't like my poetry. But they loved it, they loved every bit of it. For some reason the $20,000 prize didn't matter to me. There was an even greater prize. The price of sharing my little black book to the world in hearing people clap and cheer enjoy what I had to say. Gave me so much more than what this prize money could. as I sat there turned around and walked off stage I smiled and cried tears of joy. Because For the first time in my life I felt like my words had some sort of significance to other people's lives and I impacted someone that day. Whether or not I won that $20,000 prize didn't matter to me at that moment in time I was just glad to be able to share and I was happy that I finally overcame my fears.