Writing

I walk a fine line.

Life and death.

Funny and weird.

Smart and dumb. 

Waiting for a light breeze to blow me one way.

Will I stay on this line forever?

When will I get off?

Time crunch of number crunching

calculators I didn't know we could use

a packet I'm so screwed for 

a teacher who doesn't teach

I have never been this panicked

meltdown mode

What is "The American Political Compass," and why was it written?

Introduction

Peeling white paint

Stained wooden floors

Dim yellow light bulbs

Papers strewn across the floor

An unmade bed piled with blankets and pillows

I hear the tick of a clock letting me know every second I am wasting as I scroll through my phone,

the slide of my finger against the screen,

the tap of my thumb as I message someone back,

artificial noise.

Some where there is a child jumping in new puddles,

playing in the soft mud of the Earth,

full of joy.

Some where a child picks springs new dandelions,

blowing on the fluffy seeds to make wishes.