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When my mother went to check the mail this morning, I expected for her to bring back bills, junk mail, the occasional magazine, you know, things that people usually get when the mail has been delivered. But to my surprise, she hands me, me as in the person who never gets anything, an envelope addressed to (add dramatic music here) me.

Confused as to why lowly old me would actually be getting something, I look at the envelope and find that it's from The America Library of Poetry. Feeling quite curious, I opened the envelope and find inside that I, I repeat I have progressed into the semi-finals of the poetry contest I mentioned in the passage before this.

Okay, big deal. I figure that they probably send this to every brain-dead dit-wit who can rhyme words like "Cold" and "Sold" together. But what really caused me to almost have a heart attack was when they said that I was to be published in their book along with all the other semi-finalists.

Please, pause for a dramatic effect.

All of the sudden, I feel my hands start to shake. Me? Get published? That's only my biggest dream of all time! I almost (note the 'almost') had to get a paper bag to breathe into.

I mean, sure, everyone who entered is probably being published in the book, but still! I could barely contain my immense pleasure to have such an honor given to me. Even now, thirteen hours later, I'm still shaking and I don't think that I will be able to sleep even though I'm some kind of tired.

I've come to believe that this has all been a dream. That, No, I haven't really been selected to advance in the contest or be in their publication. But as of yet, I am still waiting for myself to wake up.

I know it might sound selfish, but I really want to win this contest. I've gone through life seeing all the things that others can do that I know I never can and I've come to find that writing is the one thing that I can do at least partially right, and I would really like to keep it that way.

Writing has given me a sense of purpose in this crazy, messed up world, and it would really break my heart to come to the realization that the one thing that I thought was mine, the one thing that I knew I didn't suck at, wasn't really something to be proud of at all.

The numbers on the clock are telling me that it's getting late, though I don't really care at this point. But, alas, I should be getting to bed so that I will be able to face my life tomorrow. So until next time good-byes. Oh! And I'll keep you posted!

~Saya