They have reckless minds with no worries, fear and bliss leak down cheeks unaware. Their limbs are soft and open, unlike the rigid outer shells of parents. These eternal children break thoughts with a glance and are never bothered with modern questions. They run through experienced-spiked minds with little knowledge. All this for the simple comfort in knowing with one slight move you permanently engrave an ignorant, desperate attempt at the preservation of your own young thoughts. Though it may be misguided, these memories are a better alternative to a blank nothing that haunts your predicted later years. A clouded, and somewhat unknown statement of youth.
It would be nice to think that we had an impact. Not even just as individuals, but as a world or universe as a whole. But really, we don’t have the slightest bit of importance attached to us. The only importance we have is our own made repetitional conventions. Even now there are pages of words that spill from my head, only to disappear at the tip of my pen. The small percentage of words that have the honor to be recorded are harsh and ugly. I’m lead to believe that the reason my true words can not be written in the original order is because of my own need to conform. I subconsciously edit and revise and edit and revise until this is nothing but what you expect to read next. We are guaranteed to conform. The little ideas that we must go to school, we must continue that education, we must make a suitable career for ourselves, we must marry, we must have children. And it is our final responsibility to make sure those children continue in the monotony. We don’t dare disrupt, we don’t dare create. There is only beauty in the opposite of convention. The obsessions of majority are made only to be questioned. We are taught to build ego and choose a life from a small predetermined list. Of course the need for acceptance overpowers any talent that does not show on this list. Schools teach us to question, but again our questions may not exceed the list. Neither can our goals, careers, thoughts, or our names. Creativity will never be encouraged. teachers will not teach, they will recite a textbook. Minds will not be seen, but criticized. Words will be taught to appear in a certain order. There is only one way to learn to draw a hand. Discovery is limited. Truth is too hurtful, it must be covered. Children must be raised in a straight-line, unable to wander. Connection will be replaced with expectation, and every human has seemed to have developed a coated on personality from an ongoing insecurity. People will ignore thought until it doesn’t show again. Small outlets for deeper minds are not pure for long. This world does not include other stars. Real luminosity is further than we dare ever look. Most is realized, I do hope it is acted upon.