The woman Oprah called the millennial Sylvia Plath

I was immediately smitten when I discovered Medium. Wow, what an awesome way to get my writing out into the world and read thoughts of other talented and beautiful writers. I was filled with inspiration and gusto. I made a first post. I shut my laptop a smug smile on my face, feeling accomplished and proud of myself for actually posting an article and not just scrolling for hours through the writing of others. “Good job, you!” I said to myself.

This is going to be great. Everyone will suddenly see my untapped talent, subtle humor, incredibly deep and meaningful insights. “Who is this girl?” they will ask in fits of laughter at a one liner. “She is the millennial Sylvia Plath” (well, minus the depression and head in oven stuff of course) they will say, wiping tears from their eyes after reading a poem I wrote about the futility of life. I’ll get a book deal and quit my loser corporate job (so long mother fuckers!) I will be famous. Oprah will interview me in her garden and touch my arm lightly as I share an ‘aha’ moment. Oprah and I will share a glass of wine and she’ll give me her personal phone number that she only gives to close family and friends like Gayle, Michelle Obama and Adele. She’ll call me when her and Stedman have a fight and we’ll laugh about how stupid men are. She’ll tell me she loves me before we hang up.

And then (there is always an and then) ….today arrived. Day two. I read the article I posted about my ayahuasca experience. ‘Amateur hour’ that little demon voice in my head said to me. Shut up! I had to tell it. At least you did something. At the very least you did something you’ve never done before by making your writing public. And even if Oprah never reads it, or even if NO ONE ever reads it, you still did it.

And so, for whatever reason, even if it is to spite that little demon voice in my head, I’m going to stick with it a little longer. I mean after all, it feels silly to give it up on day two. Might as well give it a week before throwing this idea in the trash can and starting on some other completely impulsive idea I have…like painting a mural on my living room wall, or taking adult ballet lessons, or dying my hair pink.