The Breakfast Club Assignment
pensive.
p-e-n-s-i-v-e.
I’m always thinking up here.
and I got
countless things
that I carry inside of
this angry,
ridiculous little head of mine.
all I do is think.
and there are soundtracks,
songs perfectly fit into
the gray memories that I occupy.
there are daydreams
repeating,
frozen in time.
like a record with
a broken needle.
there are faces of
people
I've never met
that i've fallen in love with.
there are thoughts
that never end.
I am infinitely
expanding inwards.
and it's within my
pretentious, pensive self
that I also note
what a walking contradiction I am.
contradictory.
c-o-n-t-r-a-d-i-c-t-o-r-y.
quiet minded,
with a loud mouth.
an angry person,
with calm intentions.
a force to be reckoned with,
a timid soul.
I wait for the day to seize me,
I long for silence.
I find everything to be an art form—
I wish to love the world indefinitely,
but I also with to set the world ablaze.
sometimes the roses hold thorns, and
sometimes the thorns
hold rose petals.
wishing for the equilibrium
that I’ve been told
is for normal people
and that perhaps
I should try it.
observant.
o-b-s-e-r-v-a-n-t.
finding patterns,
watching the gears turn
while everybody else
is too busy looking at the time.
tick, tick, tick.
and the details are never forgotten.
the red graffiti on the sidewalk
where I would wait each morning.
the tick that
he doesn't know he has.
a tap on the hip,
a giggle,
then another tap.
I have a lot of these.
little feelings, little memories
I collect them like pressed leaves
they seem to remind me that I'm human:
walking barefoot
on a cool patch of grass.
the first sip of coffee
on the first day of spring.
the smell of barbeque
mixed with fireworks.
putting on a beanie,
covering numb, ice cold ears
on a new year's night.
windmills spinning
on the endless fields
of west Texas.
feeling cool rocks on
the desert mountains.
it seems that perhaps
I am who I am
because
of the little things.
it seems as if
I am
comprised of these things
they're the thread that has woven my entire being
I think
these tiny things
have taught me
to stay humble.
to remember life,
to swim through it,
with not just the life-changing
stories we've been forced to remember,
but also with
our little indicators,
that show us we're alive,
that we're surviving,
we're in love, we're beautiful in sight and soul
and we're not done changing yet.
my own little transformation.
m-e-t-a-m-o-r-p-h-o-s-i-s.