Tagged: writing

Contemplating the inherent morality of novels

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One of my best friends hates reading.

“It’s not that I don’t appreciate a good analysis of a book,” he said, “I just feel like I don’t get anything out of reading the novels they forced on us in high school English class. Like, it makes me feel like it’s a waste, because just the fact that I had to read it on a certain timeline and do a certain thing with it ruined the book for me. I feel like that sucked out the chance to really get anything out of the book.”

At first, I was appalled.

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5PM, peacefully noisy city

i. I’m walking and I’m at peace despite the world blaring outside Continue reading

we wander the neighborhood.

When I get back from school, I don’t take off my shoes until I’ve walked my dog. We venture up and down through our hilly neighborhood, stopping occasionally while he sniffs at various bushes along the sidewalk. Sometimes we run, and my lungs will be screaming for air after reaching the top of a steep slope, but the rush of moving so quickly is worth it.  Continue reading

New Voices: untitled

We grow up surrounded by genius

And this sometimes inspires us to emulate it

But more often drives us to envy it

As we wonder;

If we aren’t exceptional,

If we aren’t outstanding,

What are we worth?  Continue reading

writing in the margins of my school planner

http://arya0127.vsco.co

original art || from http://arya0127.vsco.co

1- I saw the end of a rainbow today during our math quiz that I thought would be much harder than what it actually was and just like that I realized: nothing is as it seems or is told because there was nothing but a parking lot where gold should have been waiting.  Continue reading

fleeting thought

eyes wide open

original artwork- check out my Flickr account

it started up with a breakdown
of the thoughts
     swimming in my head, relentlessly aching to be
released
     into the biting January air

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Flash(back) Fiction (Episode 2)

Read this first.


Calder’s mind finally stuttered back to full consciousness. There was a dull throbbing in the back of his head as he forced himself to open his eyes, one at a time- a feeling he had grown to be all too familiar with over the past four years.  Continue reading