Most people don’t live; they just race. They are trying to reach some goal far away on the horizon, and in the heat of the going they get so breathless and panting that they lose sight of the beautifulJean Webster
When I was ten, I wanted to be eleven. Sitting in junior high I just couldn’t wait for high school Once there, right away the rushing began; I was itching to leave Today standing tall, looking over and realizing, I wished too soon for it all to be done, And now it was. A pity.
Sacrificing my two weeks of winter break to spend ten hours every day working on the same 5 essays that could drastically alter the course of my life was oddly fulfilling. Applying to a university with an acceptance rate below 5 percent is usually a daunting process; applicants are forced to dig deep within themselves … Continue reading College Admissions
There’s a thief in my life. It steals something precious, and yet I don’t even notice, I even help it rob. I’m consumed by this thief, my fancy pacemaker, controlling me so I ask “How can I live without you?” It’s hard to say no to something so pleasing, distracting me with sweets while silently … Continue reading The Joyous Thief (poem)
A great art has been lost, before it ever truly began. So needed, so wanted, yet still destroyed. I wonder Where have the thinkers gone? Those curious innovators? They must’ve disappeared, forced to hide, to escape! When faced with the fear of a little wooden desk. They didn’t belong in a place where their vivid … Continue reading Multiple Choice (a poem)
With a return to some semblance of normality in our everyday lives, the face mask has become a necessity every day for hours, obligatory for every venture outside of our houses. We tolerate them for their obvious benefit in reducing the spread of Covid-19, as the face mask blocks the transmission of miniature droplets emitted … Continue reading Stopping More Than Droplets
Here begins my blogging journey. They say journaling is therapeutic to the soul, so we’ll see. Maybe there is merit in writing to nobody in particular, creating something that will—chances are—never be read by anyone but me. I wish to pursue those thoughts that keep me up at night, to question why things are the … Continue reading The Birth of Something New