The Fountain of Life
There was this activity to add spice in how to introduce ourselves, there were about seven male students in the class and since we have to paired up i have no partner, luckily the female students are also odd in numbers so i had to paired up with her, and on the activity i managed to write this.
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Touching the fine gained paper marked with horizontal lines as if a magnetic force pulls me not to go beyond it, my blood marks itself as it oozes out of my body, symbols, characters then syllables creating ideals, messages as i embodied my masters wishes
I am also capable of showing emotions although not of mine but of his. Soft, tender and light words when he is carefreee and happy with gentle strokes and fine lines, and when is sad, alone and lonely, i blot characters, let me cry for he would not he must remain strong and when he is mad, forbid him not, swings me so wildly that his tense and fury be released and that his conviction set in stone.
I once remembered how he wrote his first love letter he tried hard to make himself convincing to make every syllables resonate with his meaning. Paper after paper, crumpled, some torn and thrown yet no matter how he exhaust himself words came about shy, innocent and unknowing, should i have the capabilities to change that i would, but this is enough i can only be him and no other.
For i am my masters avatar, his sword, his pen and this is my memoir.
[Knowing other people in my Psychology Class | 8:22 AM 19th of June]
