In the room of silence,
a condescending smile closes the open door.
Steady and undying cries pervade the corridors.
They are trying to get in.
The unwanted,
those of shattered hopes,
grope for the light of truth.
Deep in the recesses of time
the groans come:
'Feed us,
else we wither.'
Who will heed the open mouths
of ignorance,
of despair?
Will no one give them the answer they seek?
The room darkens,
but the voices do not fade with the light.
On and on they beg,
for nourishment,
for balance,
for Hope.

My night there is over.
I have heard their outcries.
And I will quench them.

AhhhhHh!!

Lately, I've been just pleh. No, I don't feel horribly ugly, or even fat :D, but utterly worthless!! It's positively the most horrid thing EVER!!!!! The worst thing of it is, I know it's just my blasted pride! Of course I'm good at some things. everyone IS!! But just because you're good, doesn't mean you have to be the best! And that's what my problem is; always comparing, analyzing, making assessments and getting depressed when I fall short.
It's not because of me that I have any capabilities at all, anyway! So why do I feel like I have to live up to other's expectations of how well I do things? Or live up to my own? <--This I think is normal, but not to be so pre-occupied with it, as I unwillingly have been.

Part of the reason? I've been spending rather large amounts of time alone. where I don't really talk and get away from....well, me. Haven't been my normal happy jovial lately, and that is slightly worrying. Ha! Proof that self-centeredness is truly depressing.

My HEro!

My English prof, in answer to my growing concern of sterile writing, commanded me (rather forcefully in fact) to go out and get myself a Mr. Potato Head. *imagine blank stare, jawbones slightly ajar* She says I am to find random things in my room, write each on a slip of paper, and stick them all in Mr. PH. Everyday I pull one out and make myself write about it. A disciplinary tactic, I would assume. I am just tempted to try it. hmmm, I would definitely have something 'interesting' to put here, wouldn't I?

Literature

In my mind, Literature isn’t just a bunch of sentences written by who-knows-what hand and randomly published because it contains a lot of big words. To lawfully earn this title, there must be some element in the writing style; some streak that sets it apart from the rest of the written litter that sadly pollutes our libraries. Literature is something written, yes, and something read, but it’s also something that endures. Standing the test of time, there are the classics that have been with us nearly forever. Shakespeare, Dickens, Longfellow and Austen are household names for most of us. Their legacy of writing excellence is one of our greatest cultural treasures. But it is not after these pieces have lasted for centuries that we say, “ah, their work is great”. The moment one reads “Great Expectations”, for example, he doesn’t need to be told that it’s been proclaimed for 140 years steady. The way it was written, the manner in which it takes you up and fills your soul, was meant to last. It’s automatic. Even in today’s writing, this is the exact thing that separates the good from the bad; will it endure? Does it have the juice necessary to carry it through the deeps of history and back again? This, and only this, is worthy to be called ‘Literature’.

But why does true Literature survive and maintains it’s fresh and unstudied sparkle? Partly, I think, because it is truthful. It teaches us about the depth of human nature. And when reading it, man derives something of worth applicable to himself and his station in life. He can see life on the full scale, through another’s eyes, and it’s fulfilling. Not only is Literature honest, but it tells its truths in an expressive and passionate style. You yearn to read on and on, to explore the secrets seen and told only through the narrator. When an author has achieved this goal and infected others with his ingenuous enthusiasm, he has written a slice of immortality.

See what extensive branches there are in Literature; fiction (which may not be truthful in fact, but is in principle), poetry, journalism, mythology, memoirs, history. All of these strictly follow the theory stated above to the letter. If it’s truthful, expressive and filled with spirit, it will last through the ages, no question about it... That’s what I call Literature.