Storyneedswork1.doc

2008ish i think

 

I sat there, pouring my life and thoughts out on a sheet of paper. I hardly cared Raindrops tattered on the windows, creating a soothing repetition. I wrote, knowing what to expect of my grade from my fascist teacher. Grades are the lowest form of evaluation, enclosed you will find your hopes and dreams, your expectations and your pride on the top right of the third page. And so I wrote, “Some say the pen is mightier than the sword, could you take a life with a pen? Could you start a revolution with a pen? Could you end a rebellion with a pen? No, I implore you friends, cast your pens out into the world for they are destined for something greater.” I hardly cared. I wrote onwards with a sarcastic undertone, “ So I question myself, is the toaster mightier than the glue gun? Is the pillow mightier than the hammer? Is the pen mightier than the sword? If so, is the pen greater than the automatic weapon?” There’s your report Mr. Fuhrer, and if I made mention the thrilling conclusion I added to the “Modern Writing of the 19th Century”. So I sat, staring at the paper. I crumpled it up and threw it in the trashcan. As I did that I threw out a part of me.