My two friends and I wanted to write a book and change the world. We each had a section, one was photography, one was drawing, and one was writing. I was the writing section. In this book we would open up the eyes of those striving for life and show them what they had to offer. Although this book didn't make it as far as we would have liked, it so strongly illustrates how i view writing, and how much it has meant to me. This is the first part of our book entitled, Desperate Dreams of the Undefined.
Take everything and describe it into words and make those words the very thing that will describe you. She looked at everything around her and whenever she attempted to explain it she would stutter. So her pen became her mouth and the ink inside became her voice. She wrote with grace and let her words flow knowing this was the only thing ever beautiful to her. When looked at she was nothing special and they passed over her. But when read they saw something hidden, something only the untouched can possess. Only those who took their precious time to read what she wrote for them would experience just a moment of individuality. Quickly they'd return to black and white while she tried to describe to them what color looked like. She continued to float through life, unable to decide where she wanted to land. Until one day she could no longer defy gravity, and she fell down onto reality. But somehow, it caught her and she was able to look around and see where she was. These people, the ones she hated and despised, had been waiting for her. With a quick glance back and a small step forward, i dreamed something desperate. No one has ever attempted to explain this, but simply, we are undefined. In many ways, we are all different in our dreams and desperate in our identities. With much regret but little sorrow, us 3 will dive into the unknown. We'll have something to present once we return, but until then, we're swimming through the black, peering into the darkness, and searching for the blue.
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