PERSONAL ESSAY 650 WORDS-
I see Books; made of stitching, plastic, photographs, drawings, ink, life, and paint. They're Shelves of stories, meanings, concepts, and souls, souls of words, souls of humans. I can't describe the feeling with in when I set my windows on a book cover. Thoughts take over my sprit; shocking my being, like a cat thrown into the sea. Some simple, some complex sitting they're whispering to me, "read my human please?"
I ended up in the children's section; a bunny that talks, and walks on two's invites me in his cover for orange soufflé; with his good friend owl, who subconsciously knows every English word. I too hope to be like Owl some day because I have a thing for words. I intend to study English like Owl will do until his old. I declined, with kind regards because I came here to study for my math test.
I ended up in the teen section; to lay my eye on 'Tristan & Iseult", lying there untouched and unloved. I saw a book with cats, all types. House, tiger, panther, lion, bob, mountain, Siamese, all in one room Interesting book, I can't remember what it was called, with it's weird snakes, and cats and all. I spotted a misplaced copy of a thick brick of anthology of literature. I decided to let my thumb open to what ever page it so wisely chose. "A Very Old Man With Enormous Wings", thumb you chose wisely. I'm in love.
I need research; brought my history paper too, so I walked to the adult section; I became side tracked by Shakespeare love sonnets, the "Dark lady", and the "Fair youth", a contrast of yin and yang. I'm supposed to be researching the history of us. "Trena, put it down, no time to waist", "but all these souls are calling my name". Making my way down the hall; I passed a girl three times, in three hours reading a book. Sitting in the same spot and same way, I thought she would start to decay, or grow bacteria synapses out of her hair. Well, this was no good for math and history, my imagination is too vivid, I suppose.
Sitting in my perfect cubicle, I start to doze off, into thoughts that are as wild as life. Not yet to REM, I dream of this library being filled with water. So I started to clean and watch my surroundings in my dream. I cleaned everything including the inside of me swallowing as much as my stomach can feed. As I took my last gulp, the tide rushed off and out of me. Puking up all that I thought my stomach could eat taking back everything. Water is a tricky substance, that's what I declare. The scene was quite the gorey, nothing a child should see. The force of the water was too strong, it pulled and tugged my legs, with all the force the water could claim. The water was too persistent like a prideful man, too potent, no balance of kindness or keenness; sharks reading anatomies about themselves, Starfish cleaning the entrance windows. Anglerfish lighting up conference rooms; sea urchins poisoning computers, cuttlefish cuddled up with a best seller. As the humans in it become oxygen deprived, and life inhabits this place, exploring the human bodies like a cave, and reading my soul.
My journey through the library on that giving day exfoliated my passion for writing. I'm certain my soul has many stories to tell. So even when it's gone from my mind and body; it will be read in the form of stitching, plastic, photographs, drawings, ink, life, and paint. The element of words': I call 3333 W<3 (a lot.5), is a solid substance that gives. So than, I will kiss these words with my lips, and soften them up, and make them speak love because 650 words are in my favor.
