I think deeply. Often. I have twisted warped thoughts on the secrets embedded in our society. I question all things that ever existed. The things that remain. And the things to come.
I rarely let these things show...unfortunately. The people I live around are "small town folk", close minded with a goal to support their suburban families, with their two kids and their pick up trucks. I get judged.
I write these thoughts down, however. I think a lot. And whenever I have a scrap of paper or a pen, I scribble it down. I don't know why. I guess I figure, someone will care. Someone out there has a scrap of a philosophical mind and might want to discuss the path the wind takes or how cruel it is that stars hang so close. But, I'm still looking.
The worst is when I decide to trust someone with my raging questions and queries that make boys my age flee and girls cringe and flip their hair the way they do. It crushes a part inside of me. To see someone raise their brows, shake their head slightly, and ask me,
"What?" Because they don't understand that I'm not talking about how waves are created scientifically, but the actual creation. The middle of the sea, under the moon, the first ark toward the sky in a first reach for the stars.
Sometimes I wonder, would it be better if they just nodded? Gave me that fake sympathy smile? Nod and giggle a high-pitched dead giveaway of their close-minded brains? If they just agreed with me?
