There’s
an expected silence that is met with expected questions. Maybe this, perhaps
that, and just under the starlight does anything finally never make sense. I’m
okay with this, you know, it’s what it is, so to say. My run-on sentences and
unexpected answers to these expected questions is exactly what I was waiting
for. God, what a mess this is. This is how my brain works on the fly I suppose.
I’m not exactly thrilled to see what comes out of my run-ons and unexpected
overwhelming lovely velvet words. I love jellyfish. A lot. They’re these almost
brainless, mainly water and gel-like stuff that is absolutely beautiful. I’ve always
wanted a jellyfish. I wonder what it’s like to never have any responsibility,
to have the current take me where it pleases, and I end up in oblivion. I’m
still in shock that we won with a show that overtook our lives for three months.
I hated this at first, but the closer the competition came, I was more and more
prepared to hit the stage and be blinded by warm lights once more. We won a big
trophy. As if a chunk of fake gold and plastic is enough to pay off the efforts
and tears we’ve experienced. I hate news. I hate being forced to read it. I
want to find things on my own; I’m an explorer at heart and lovely in the
nature of new knowledge. Writing with a pencil will always be my favorite way
of handwriting. I hate loosely-salted chips. I like when it’s baked in, like my
insecurities are baked into my personality.
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