"A foolish consistency is the hobgoblin of little minds."
--Ralph Waldo Emerson
I just finished writing a "short essay" for my American Lit Mid-Term over this quote.
I wrote this while in church today, because I'm trying to come out of my bad case of writer's block, which means writing even if I don't have much to say, even if what comes out is horrible.
Also, I may like Mumford and Sons. Don't make a big deal out of it. Haha.
My pulse quickens—beats, not in
a constant quarter note rhythm,
but in eights. Fluttering
along with the piano keys. The choir
in sync, though their eyes upon me
instead of a heavenly father. Gazes
and glances like laser beams.
I am not my own, they sing
as they shoot holes through me.
I chip off and fall to dust, although,
they did warn: to dust you will return.
My suspicion, confirmed. I am not one
of holiness. I never should have come,
for I am an outcast among the saints.
My mum's computer has a virus, which means I may or may not have lost all of my pictures from 2010 and 2011, besides Europe and the few I have saved on my jumpdrive.
I'm trying not to be too upset about this, but it is extremely hard.
I've decided to invest in an external hard drive to make sure I'm never in this situation again.
Before it crashed, I was able to save this picture from long ago. Then I re-edited it. =)
School starts again tomorrow.
Have a great week!