Blue.

Your eyes, big and blue. My sky, my ocean. Long lashes mashed together, sewn tightly shut with thick, dark thread. The work of a tiny, proud elf. You do not see. You can only feel. Blind, reality slowly disappears. I become more invisible with every touch, with every breath as you love her. I am nothing. I am your bike, left out in the rain while you cuddle, warm, inside. Rusting, lusting. An insignificant detail. And yet, those big, blind, blue eyes, they pull my heartstrings so hard I wish they would break.

--

I dream of being a writer. I feel happiest with ink splatters on my hands. My other passion is music -- I played violin for many years, but I gave it up just this year, and I miss it. I would pick it up again, and I may do so sometime in the future, but it's difficult to find time to play when you're so caught up in the essence of life. I was never very good at it anyway, but I loved it, and that made all the difference. I remember, before I reached middle school I always heard people say that middle school is where you find your passion. In 6th grade, after playing for two years, I discovered that music was my passion. Of course, it's not anymore. Writing is my passion now. But I was so, so happy onstage, my fingers flying, my arm moving and flexing, pulling the bow accross the strings. I felt free. I felt like jumping out of my skin and doing a little dance while the rest of the orchestra played on. Ecspecially after numerous failed rehearsals -- and then we'd dominate at the concert. We'd fly.

I don't play anymore, though I wish I did. During my freshman year, I just couldn't love my violin. I hated going to orchestra class. I struggled and was discouraged. So I stopped to persue my other passion -- writing. I took Journalism instead of Orchestra, and I love it. It's tough, just like orchestra was, and at many times discouraging. But it's something I love and have developed a thick skin to. Nothing is more wonderful than the feeling you get when you put a couple words, a couple phrases together and it sounds nice. Nothing is comparable. And every single day, the deadlines and pressure is worth it.

I love my art. I would never, ever want to do anything else with my life.

"However, when you find yourself in love, whether it’s with a person, a place, or an art, you’re closer than ever. For instance, in a song is where I’m most myself. Capturing all my emotions in my own little melting pot of self. When you find yourself in a moment in time when NOTHING else matters but that moment, and you and yours in that moment alone, you’re real. You’re free." - William Beckett