sometimes running away isn’t cowardice . . .
This is a little too much, you heavily
assume. What with the unnerving
wait and the saddening blasphemy of
being in a room with competitive souls eagerly hungering for the very same
prize you desire just as much as them.
You have brought nothing to satiate your thirst, or anything to entertain
your ever-wandering mind. This is a little
too much, you heavily assume, as you write your petite insecurities on a blank
sheet of paper filled with azure lines.
For writing
things down on a piece of a white rectangle lets the imagination run free,
doesn’t it? And you can’t help but
notice yours is skipping and twirling around with its face against the blowing
wind.
You don’t
mind the presence of the others.
Actually, you ignore their entire existence as you pick your ebony-inked
pen. The first words become sentences
and the sentences become paragraphs and you don’t care that much just as long
as you write and let your spirit wander as said.
You’re in
your own little world away from reality and that’s all that matters, really.
by : JD Andrada
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