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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