It is a challenge of will and discipline to write, daily. To not know what to write about.
To work, without reward. Maybe, a grade.
And what if you don’t like writing? What if, writing is not easy for you?
If, numbers make more sense than words. Or, perhaps, photographs are the first language.
If, handles, crossovers, buckets or dunks are the parts of speech I understand.
But they don’t have a class that measures intelligence based in creativity.
It’s not fair. The teachers like things like this. This is what they do. They don’t care about what we do.
They don’t even ask.
Me? I don’t wanna write. I’m better at saying what I have to say. I know people–
especially the teachers–
think I’m dumb because I don’t want to write.
They think that I can’t write
just because I don’t. I hate that.
At the same time though, I love it.
I love to see the looks on their faces when I share what I do.
It’s always a surprise to them and I always wonder
what you expected. Like, why is it a surprise that I have good thoughts?
I’m used to it, and I know exactly how to deal with them so I don’t get pissed.
I piss them off. They talk to me like I’m a child,
so I act like one. My grandmother always says, you get what you expect. and
I always expect to enjoy my day, giving people what they expect.
I especially like to throw their assumptions in their faces–
Lady, I said I didn’t LIKE to write. I didn’t say I couldn’t write. That’s on you.
CRACKED
This is how I leave most o the faces I interact with. Cracked, as in onomatopoeia.
They’re supposed to be teachers, and the only thing I learn, is that the older you get, the more you lie.
What I mean is hypocrite.
What I mean is do what I say, not what I do
What I mean is, I can’t call him dumb, but you can treat me like I’m dumb.
What I mean is the way you roll your eyes when I walk in the room.
What I mean is I see you. What I mean is I know you
talk about me. What I mean is, I don’t like to write.
What I mean is what’s right for you isn’t right for me.
What I mean is, I’m not you. What I mean is arrogant–
What makes you think I want to be anything like you or what you think I should be?
What I mean is who do you think you are–
Do you know what I mean?
I can’t write it, because it’s not school appropriate.
So I’m dumbed if I do, dumbed if I don’t.
You want me to want to write what you want me to write.
Write it yourself.
You want me to make you feel better about yourself, while you make me feel guilty for breathing.
You want me to do your work for you, right?
I can’t.
I can not be the pillow of your good night’s sleep.
I am not your comfort.
I am not your story.