And Another ThingThere's this emotional malaise that sometimes sweeps me up.I sit staring at sweet nothings as Billie Holliday sings.I hear others happily coo, yet all I have is this sunken rock at the core of me- Who renders me useless and steals back my thoughts before I begin to express them.It feels crowded- I just need to sleep but I cannot leave until hours pass- I have no time.I suckle at the clear red tea and consult upon what to do with my life As I am kept by my own foolish will to waste time, lest I offend the others.
Columbia Essay FinalMany people attest to having a childhood hero they looked up to and aspired to become like; I never claimed to have one. When assigned hero projects in school, since I had no definite person, I felt the obligation to make presentations on members of my family. Though those individuals were admirable, until recently I never knew anyone who I could call my hero.In ninth grade I came to Saint Paul Conservatory for Performing Artists (SPCPA) after eight miserable years at a Catholic school. All my life I have known that I need to be an artist; nothing has ever made me consider giving up creating in one form or another. Due to this drive, I fell
Cafe-Goer's LamentLook at you- spiking my coffee again.You're lucky- I like you enough not to mind.Just don't put coconut in, or I'll never be able to talk to you again.But right now, I love you a lot.
DeskFringes of paper torn from notebooks she torturously pens ideas in litter the monumental desk.A cola can sits in a place of honor among black lipstick and purple nail polish.The serpentine ribbon of this book loops and lingers, and a sharp-edged wire bow sits as a subtle mask of innocence.
MindBrain, Brilliant, Destroyer, DoubtfulKeep Me BackDamage, Prison, MasochistHeart, Earthly Goodness, Downfall