Picking the scabs of old thoughts. The first speck of blood surfaces as does the familiar feelings of broken promises, transitioning to dying expectations. BAM. The sound of 80's dance music emits into the two ears of the soul who needs the music most. What seems to be a small head dance to this techno music, turns into him swirvering in his swiveling chair, busting out the air guitar to match the solo of non-existent music.
1 2 3 4. The heart of the he, who thought to be soulless, founded a new generation for his heart beat to follow. His diagnosed heart from birth was called a heart murmur-- Always missing a beat and not feeling the difference. Ten years later this soul walks down a street of coffee shops who all just so happen to serve dogs instead of humans. He thinks to himself "I think it's time to leave this town." At the press of a freckle (located behind his ear), he closes his eyes and BAM! A gust of smoke takes his place and all is left is a 3 inch water gun he won at a magic show in a wolf invested forest when he was seven. The point of this story? To surf the neuron waves within my mind. Here in reality I am surrounded/outnumbered by a classroom of MAC computers, my half eaten yogurt, and CHEEZE-Its. I live for wicked guitar riffs, meaningful conversations, and the heart of my sisters and parents. Love is something to be felt, not learned. Exploration of the mind helps me be me. A creator.
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November 2020
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