Showing posts with label This is.... Show all posts
Showing posts with label This is.... Show all posts

Tuesday, March 29, 2011

This is...#3

This is a pile of dishes that need to be taken to clean.  It's just days worth of snacking piled up onto each other.  No particular order.  Nothing left in any of the bowls or cups.  Just carriers waiting to be used once more.  They're the physical remains of the nights spent in isolation slaving over math, studying finance, and surfing the net.  The glass glistens in the fluorescent lights and in the dark blue, a faint reflection of a girl, sitting at her desk, blogging.  Somehow at the end of a really tough day, it's always the dishes that get left behind.  After revolutions and centuries buried deep under the ground, it's the dishes that remain.  They tell the future how things used to be and hold nothing more truthful than the air.

Friday, December 24, 2010

This is... #2

This is the corner of unwanted trash. It houses the forgotten tidbits of teenage life. A crumpled to-do list, eraser bits from a frustrated math student, a red price tag. These pieces of her life don't mean a thing, they won't be thought about again, and will eventually be thrown out. But the green post-it note sits quietly on the edge of her desk, shadows from everything else that is more important resting gently on its ridges. This post-it note once held things that were important, and slowly, one by one, the sheet became a reminder of things past. There is no time for the past, only tomorrow. It's just ink scribbled on paper now.

Thursday, October 7, 2010

This is... #1

{Today in English class, we got an index card with a hole in it. We were to look through the hole and write about something we saw; something that we usually overlook. Here's what I wrote.}

This is...a dandelion stem, but the petals are all gone. Perhaps a little kid kicked it out of anger because he didn't get to play with the soccer ball. The dots on its top act as reminders of what this plant used to be. As the stem waves in the wind, one last white seed clings onto the base; tenacious or just stuck? A small fly comes by for food but finds none. Just an empty stem towering over the rest of the green jungle.