You see, I can track my rapid emotional maturity back to an incident in my twelfth year of existence. It was a warm, spring day. My senses were alive with the glory of sun and splendor. Feeling intoxicated with delight (not alcohol, of course, that is for commoners), I went up to my room to change. No sooner had I begun to undress, than out of nowhere I gigantic bird flew out of my closet over my head. I screamed in horror. As the bird fluttered wildly above my head my head, I tried desperately to escape, only to remember that I was not completely clothed. In that moment, I saw the world as clearly and perfectly as if it were being broadcast to my brain in HD. I truly new what it meant to struggle.
Since then, I have developed an overwhelming passion for social justice. Sometimes just thinking about homeless people makes me cry. Tonight, when the rest of my peers will be out wasting their lives in a state of intoxication, I will sitting here writing this blog, trying to change the world.
I guess that's just the burden of being 120 years old in a world full of drunk college students.
No comments:
Post a Comment