Internal


In my 12th Grade English final a couple months ago, (and yes, it is a weird schedule, but I attended online school, so...) I was asked to write anything that I wanted to, but it had to be well-structured and carried weight behind it. For some reason, I was really bothered by this assignment. I wasn't even sure why. Usually, for an assignment, we'd be confined to some cookie-cutter mold, and this final was actually giving me freedom to express my writing ability in any way that I chose. I soon realized that I was afraid. I was afraid of writing the wrong thing. You see, I don't handle failure well. When life knocks you down, you get back up.

 Unless you're me. Then you curl up  in a corner and start whimpering like a baby. Being the artistic genius that I am - please note the sarcasm in that - I decided that I'd write about that. I'd write about how, when I pretend to stand back up, I'm really cowering inside. I'm a coward. Well, sometimes. I suppose that if I'm willing to share this, then maybe I'm not so cowardly. Then again, dear reader, you may not even exist. I may be writing to nobody. There's no harm in sharing these things with nobody, is there? So maybe I am a coward, then. I digress, and I hope that I haven't scared you away with my nonsensicality (is that even a word?).

Below is the result of the assignment.
I woke up today.

Ev’rything the same
Not a thing disturbed
Went about my day

Lost a single tear
Rolling down my face
Mourning what I’ve lost
Giving in - to fear

The light’s on outside
The paint - well maintained
The yard’s up to code
No one sees me hide

I won’t scream at you
In jeopardy, duress
Even though I choke
I don’t try to chew

When I act the same,
They can’t see what’s there
A fine mask covers
The words that place blame

Try to ignore them,
Hope these cuts will fade
Purple, black, and blue
Marks that you’ll condemn

The lights are left on,
But nobody’s home
Don’t try to see me
Don’t look past the con

Scared of what one’ll see
If one’d search my eyes
So I stand in shade
Nothing here is free

I used to stand proud
Until I found I’m
A broken person
Now I’m in the crowd

Behind these fences
Anonymity
Helps internalize
All my diff’rences

Keep building these walls
While I lurk within
Hoarding my treasures
Just let them miscall

Someone else to friends
Self within in squall
Self without is blank
Please let my brain end


By Chandler Currier


Here's what my instructor said, in case you were interested:



Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Grim Weather: Consider It Done

I've said that I'm terrified of silence. I'm terrified of what that silence will bring. I'm terrified of the questions that I'll begin asking myself if I'm left in silence. This is still true. Something that I truly love, however, is music. I can't get enough of it. I basically live for music. Music fills that silence with something that carries real meaning. Perhaps I'm naïve. The current industry does, after all, often take advantage of musical science to produce formulaic sounds that are proven to generate positive responses from the masses. Whatever. That's not me. I listen to sounds and music that I can connect with. Once something resounds within me, I know I've found something that I love. Music inspires me. So what the heck do I listen to? Every month, I put together a playlist of the songs that I listen to and post it on Spotify. You can find the link to my Spotify profile here . I'll also add the music to the Playlists pag
Read more

Creativity and I

It all started when I was eight. I felt it, like a rhino feels the oxpecker bird, guiding it, providing comfort for the brute, commanding control of the situation. I felt a spark. Some may call it Creativity. It spoke to me, showed me images, wove plots and intricacies that a barbaric child such as I was wouldn't understand - at first. Being with Creativity, though, changed me, taught me the intricacies that it created with a mere blink, or a twitch of a finger. It directed me to start writing, and we became good friends, Creativity and I. Due to this fact, or perhaps in spite of it, Creativity kept providing me with stories, and those stories grew in complexity, grew with me, taught me, showed me, until they made me into what I am today - Chandler Currier, Author. Creativity first started with some ideas that I loved at the time, but now only look at and smirk- talking tacos, strange mutants, superheroes that obviously are ripped-off of popular Marvel and DC characters. It d
Read more

Ethereal Loss

I wrote a haiku this morning, while contemplating myself. I spend a lot of time in a melancholy mood, wondering about my place in the world, and my future. Sometimes I feel that I float aimlessly, without purpose.  I believe in God. I believe that there is a light at the end of the tunnel. Sometimes the tunnel's just too long, too polluted for me to see further than five feet in front of me. I struggle. I will always try to fight through it, though. In stating that I write, sing, draw, and create solely to represent some higher ideal, I misled you, dear reader. I'm truly a selfish person who does this for myself. Maybe I can reach some other people, help, do something to improve others on the way, and, indeed, share the spirit of Creativity, but this is my remedy, and that is the first reason that I write.  I've spent much of my life dreaming about high ideals. I've been blessed with great examples in my life. I have always harbored a small part of me that is
Read more