Help...
Aug 30, 2011 22:12:13 GMT -5
Post by Wendy on Aug 30, 2011 22:12:13 GMT -5
I stare. I have everything, pen, paper, ideas... The words all all up there. I know them, I know the power they hold.
Well... They could actually do nothing. I don't really have an idea of what inspiration they could have, or lack there of.
"Damn Sally... Just write!"
The words just flow. Sometimes I don't even feel like it's me putting the words on the page, others, I feel like the words are physical beings, weighing down on me. Each letter feels like five tons, each word an asteroid crashing onto the page, cutting deeper into the surface of the point I'm trying to get across.
I finish the final page and take a new piece of paper from my satchel.
The words I'm about to write at the top of the page the title, the one that reflects my exact need, the one that everyone in Panem needs.
"Sally, get'on down here gurl! School's gonna start soon!" Momma yells from the kitchen.
I grab my bag and stuff the pages into my it, realizing how many I have, there must be at least two hundred... Running down stairs, I notice how late it is, I'll have to skip right to school if I'm going to get in on time and avoid detention with the walrus we call a principal.
"Momma, I'mma have to hurry up on to school if I'm gonna be gettin' home to feed the horses."
Momma just smiles and waves me a quick 'good-bye', probably proud that I like going to school. Truth is, I could care less, but if I arrive to school even two minutes late, I'll be sent to detention with the most racist man in District Ten. How he is even allowed to be in charge of a school is beyond me. But he especially hates me... Because, well cause I'm a Negra.
I push open the doors to the school and jog down the hall to my class, and seconds after my behind hits the seat, the bell rings, and there is no better feeling than knowing you're safe for another day. I pull out the papers and finish the word I was supposed to write at home. With a red pen, I title the stack of papers 'Help'.
Well... They could actually do nothing. I don't really have an idea of what inspiration they could have, or lack there of.
"Damn Sally... Just write!"
The words just flow. Sometimes I don't even feel like it's me putting the words on the page, others, I feel like the words are physical beings, weighing down on me. Each letter feels like five tons, each word an asteroid crashing onto the page, cutting deeper into the surface of the point I'm trying to get across.
I finish the final page and take a new piece of paper from my satchel.
The words I'm about to write at the top of the page the title, the one that reflects my exact need, the one that everyone in Panem needs.
"Sally, get'on down here gurl! School's gonna start soon!" Momma yells from the kitchen.
I grab my bag and stuff the pages into my it, realizing how many I have, there must be at least two hundred... Running down stairs, I notice how late it is, I'll have to skip right to school if I'm going to get in on time and avoid detention with the walrus we call a principal.
"Momma, I'mma have to hurry up on to school if I'm gonna be gettin' home to feed the horses."
Momma just smiles and waves me a quick 'good-bye', probably proud that I like going to school. Truth is, I could care less, but if I arrive to school even two minutes late, I'll be sent to detention with the most racist man in District Ten. How he is even allowed to be in charge of a school is beyond me. But he especially hates me... Because, well cause I'm a Negra.
I push open the doors to the school and jog down the hall to my class, and seconds after my behind hits the seat, the bell rings, and there is no better feeling than knowing you're safe for another day. I pull out the papers and finish the word I was supposed to write at home. With a red pen, I title the stack of papers 'Help'.
