A Taste Of Chaos

I want to go to a school where I can feel alive from the callouses on my feet to the fraying hairs on the crown of my head. I want to wake up and go to my classes and fall in love every single day with the bits of life that I’ve never experienced so directly before, things that I imagine take the shapes of shredded pieces of paper fluttering around in a cloud, swirling around my hair and face, skimming my skin, forcing me to action by their friction. 

I want to go to a school where the things I learn make me cry, make me laugh, make me see different shades of blue and green that I’ve been blind to before. I want to see color where there is none, and grey scales where color only exists. I want to exist because I create beautiful things, beautiful words and phrases with punctuation like flowing water over a brook with pebbles as a bed. I don’t want payment for any of it. I just want people to be able to take what I see, how I say it, have my words spill over full swollen lips like the first words of a new language. I want them to taste it, ingest it, and maybe they’ll see something they never saw before. 

Maybe they’ll be able to lay down in the middle of the street and look at the sky and pause and realize for a second that there are things existing in real time that are more than…their own lives, politics, all the bullshit that is fed to us in arsenic tinged spoons…and if I add a new lense to the kaleidoscope, that’s my payment. The beautification of their lives is payment. I don’t want anything else.

I want someone to tell me that this is okay. That it’s right. That I’m not acting like a childish brat, having a temper tantrum because she doesn’t like the world she’s living in and that because she sees things through those rose colored lenses, that reality doesn’t apply to her. I want someone to tell me that I’m allowed to be this way. 

But I’m sitting here in a soundproofed room, and I’m the only one around for miles because even if someone gives me validation, I won’t ever believe it. Why won’t I believe it?