M. Hank

We cheer and shake our cowbells, waving at passing cars. 

Sometimes they roll down their windows, clapping and cheering back.

Sometimes they roll their eyes and look away, avoiding eye contact.

I'm not drowning in water, but words.

A feeling comparable to what I imagine standing under a waterfall feels like.

The longer you stand there, the more painful and heavy it gets.

It's so interesting that a country founded by people from hundreds of different places now looks down upon immigrants.

I will fight forever

When it seems like all is lost I will fight harder

When I trip and fall I will bleed words and be stronger

When I can no longer write I will speak until they cower

I have never been quite sure if books were truly just words on paper, the ideas of authors who are just ordinary people or if they are magic incarnate.  

Because they have never, ever just been words on paper to me. 

She walked out of her classroom, eyes scanning the walls. 

The desks, the hallways, the music room, the library. 

To some, these are just rooms or furniture. 

To her, they are everything.