Imposter syndrome

I think that the entire reason I worked to get my degree was to fight my imposter syndrome.

I had to achieve a bachelors of fine arts from a state university before I could really say that I’m an artist.

Now I don’t believe that for other people… not in the least. Anyone can be an artist.

I guess the difference is that I know where I came from. “i’m polished white trash“ I just always joke. Maybe i’ve been recycled.

I think I needed that stupid piece of paper to take myself seriously. So now I can really say it. I am a trained artist!

But it feels strange; I wish it were more comfortable.

Maybe I’ll grow into it.

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Being born and raised in the south should have made me more inbred and less tolerant, but something went wrong in the grand scheme of these damned rebels. I am; brutally honest, a bad driver with a record to prove it, a connoisseur of stand-up comedy, the eldest child, an aware procrastinator, semi-sweet, the result of my mother losing her virginity, easily excitable, a lover of music, a pretty shit liar, late to any event no matter what, myself without apology.

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