and sending my shallowed-out self away to be evaluated by an anonymous pair of artistic looking hands who will pick me up and read me and decide if they like me.
Ive been wondering on the subject of why I have begun to dread art class...
Ive tried desperatly to concieve of a original sounding metephoric statment to describe my feelings of tormented unoriginality
I feel like its all been done before.
My head has dropped back under the clouds;
My eyes were once in a black, starlit universe of uninfluenced, original thought.
Now all I can see is a foggy generic mist and the backs of the heads of the other millions of high schoolers* whose attempts come from the same polluted, plagiarized landscape as my own and whose college essays and portfolios will reveal as much.
*(An image I stole from so many others who have already drawn or described it…
It's an image of those floating nondescript individuals holding brief cases or over-sized pocket-watches under their arms…
They're all wearing the same common suit and all headed for the same disappointing day of work… or life.)
welcome to the adult world. but keep your chin up. inspiration will come when you least expect it. at the very least, you are every bit as original as anyone else. and remember, your biggest weaknesses may be the key to unlock you biggest strenghts. embrace them.
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