“Don’t ever do anything through affectation or to make people like you or through imitation or for the pleasure of contradicting”
If art imitates life then I want to believe the reverse is also true. For is life not art unfiltered, uncut, raw? This relationship cannot be one directional, both are inextricably linked and exist symbiotically. Perhaps if I put more of how I see me – myself and my kind – and how I would like to be perceived into my words, I will see it reflected in life. Satre says: “The other sees me, therefore I am.” Is it too much to want this other’s gaze to be understanding, if not kind?
I will fight this war with words, my pages the battle ground. One woman, armed with a pen. Here’s to hoping mine is as mighty as I’ve heard it can be.
I don’t feel like writing. I want to write – no – I need to write like I need to breathe. I am not living, I am only surviving when I don’t write. It is me; like my arm or the hair on my head, it completes me. I am alive when I put pen to paper, when I created worlds and beings and lives. I am god.
Splish. Splash. The water resonated mockingly as he swished away at it in his bathtub. Another loss. His team was never going to reach the playoff with this abysmal performance. No worries, at least now he’d have time to finish his model Iron Throne. He never cared much for volleyball anyway. Joining the inter-house team was just an easy way to gain extra action hours for his CAS requirements. He already had well over forty and no fucks left to give. To hell with playoffs, to hell with it all!
He chuckled. He did have quite a flair for the melodramatic. Not a month had passed since stood on the cafeteria tables, face painted blue screaming in protest over the school administration’s latest attack on the student body.
“THEY MAY TAKE AWAY OUR EXEATS BUT THEY WILL NEVER. TAKE. OUR FREEEEDOOOM!”
The room erupted with cheers as let himself fall into a welcoming sea of undulating hands and ululations. It took five school guards, three teachers and thirty minutes to reign in the budding anarchists. Two week suspension and prep isolation. Not the ideal result, granted, but the exeats remained. A job half well done.