By Sherell Messing
With this paper my goals are to elaborate on the fact that everyone eventually grows up. When you grow up you will have responsibilities and you will not have the same kind of freedom that you were once use to. Despite the fact of it all, you must take time for yourself to me worry free, stress free, and let your mind be free. Without your sanity it would be hard to be yourself, or even to find yourself. In this paper I feel as though a did well when I gave detailed visuals so readers could see my words come to life. One thing I would like to improve is my way of blending, going from one topic to another.
This tiny piece of rainbow printed artwork slowly made its way into my hands all the way from Japan. No, I have never been to Japan. I have never even left the United States. Just like most teens and young adults of this generation I have been introduced and taken hostage of the wonderful person, place and thing we call the internet. I received this in the mail as a bonus item/thank you card. This was for buying from a specific company online that sells cool, fun and useful things from Japan that can not be found here in America. Right before I open the package I look at how smooth the cardboard edges feel. I wonder how it made it across the world and still look so untouched. The sweet, but yet strong, fresh scent of cardboard still lingered upon it.
I grab the small box and spun it upside down, left and right, examining each side just like people do to dice. Instead of searching for dots that represent numbers I was searching for the end of the piece of tape that kept presents inside and locked away from me. My fingers are the keys. I scratch at the edge of the tape with my red colored nails until I could grip it in between my index finger and my thumb. I slightly pull the tape back not trying to damage the perfected texture of cardboard. As I listen to the ripping and tearing I feel like I am doing something bad. Maybe I feel bad because I should not be wasting my time. I should be doing something like chores or homework. I choose to do something I want instead. Finally, I have the box open and a neatly folded sheet of bubble wrap is mirrored in my eyes.
I close my eyes and slide the wrap in my hands rubbing my nails against the soft plastic then piercing the paper with force repeatedly. POP! POP! POP! I sit back with satisfaction and think about all the air that touched this piece of plastic. It must have been on a plane. Or maybe a boat. Or maybe it traveled from car to car. Maybe it was all three. Was it a big truck or a small van that it was carried in? Was this package on the top of other packages? It must have been on the top. As I touch each bubble I imagine touching the ground of states in and out of the country. I wish I could travel just like bubble wrap.
This is one of the many times I feel like I have a free and childish mind. I am a high school student daydreaming on the tiny complexities of bubble wrap. I no longer have time to waste on such things. So, I steal time. I steal time on my way to and from school, while I eat dinner, and when I wash in the shower. I steal time because time was stolen from me. Life goes by way too quickly. If I do not have time to think of new thoughts then I think of the thoughts I had when I was allowed to have thoughts. Responsibility has made it hard to think for myself. As I sit in the crowded hallway on the third floor near the shiny silver elevators, up in a hard to reach window, I dose off from my work and think about when I was younger as my eyes stretch above the city building rooftops into the clouds of balloon animals.
If the sky can paint itself with colors then I can too. I see right through the rainbow but I can never see through me. I wonder why that is if we both contain color. Sometimes if I stare at my hand too long I can see right through, until I realized I had closed the eye that was in front of my hand the whole time. But I like to believe that I can see through anything, even the darkest of colors.
I run on the steaming hot pavement without shoes like I always do, even if i’m not suppose to. I pick up my chalk and replicate what I see around me. Trees with birds, soil with worms, and a cookie on a plate. I like to draw what is real. I like to image what is not. Maybe that is why I can understand the darkest of colors. The pavement is made of black tar and it burns the bottom of my toes and the flip flops are pink which protect them. But I still decide not to wear them. The trees in the back yard have brown bark and give me splinters when I peel it and I have yellow garden gloves to protect me. But I use my bare hands anyway. Directions when cooking sweets like cakes and cookies state to bake until golden brown. They are full of sugar and I am not suppose to eat them all the time but I still love the taste.
So many things are invented to protect the world from the most natural of things. I like to take the world as it is. If I start to draw the things that I imagine then somebody out there, somewhere, will invent something to stop my thoughts. I continue to draw the things I can see like flowers and bugs so people will not change the world. The sky is even more beautiful to me when the stars are out and the moon is bright inside a navy blue spread. I may not be able to see through my hand but I can surely made a cookie disappear.
If I could steal time I would spend it being young.