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Tuesday
September 2, 2014
7:33am EDT


by Eden
Rated: E | Poetry | Death | #1602544
This acid brain warp.
In the fourth grade I did a presentation on sound and how it travels. After my inspiring speech it was Q&A time. One student raised his hand and I called on him, “How did you get Santa to help you on your project?” I was immediately thrown off. “Santa?”, I asked. The teacher interrupted and said to the other student, “ Sound, not Santa.”
Yeah, it still leaves me pretty flabbergasted.

Oh, it does burn, the uncertainty of life. But it’s all for the best I believe. Cut yourself and there will be scars. Use the memories. I have come to see my position as an artist. The solitude of my mind and the extreme inspirations of others have formed the vague, optimistic, confused fucker my peers and family see standing, aware. With my forced handwriting I scribble out the channels I hear clearest. But is seems nowadays these channels are full of static and my reactions to the new thrust of responsibilities differ due to this increasing uncertainty. Ignorance is bliss?

"What's a fuckass?" -Samantha Darko
© Copyright 2009 Eden (UN: edencantu at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
Eden has granted Writing.Com, its affiliates and syndicates non-exclusive rights to display this work.
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