A tiny rocket shoots into the air of the night sky. The picture perfect scene is more spectacular when the immensely dilated Sputnik explodes, inviting a spectacle of furious gold lines piercing the darkness around it. Countless other rockets arrive to support the blitzkrieg of the night, their numbers unknown, but a force in the dozens is sensed by numerous wisps of smoke trails and whistle pitched tones. Stars wave valiantly, rivaling the grandiosity of the Big Dipper and Orion’s Belt. Though these arranged stars are not constellations. Paired with thirteen colonies of red and white and plastered on a rectangle into rows, these stars fly only a few feet above the ground attached to a twig of a stick smothered by the fat of a palm belonging to a proud, nationalistic denizen.
The cursor. The insertion point. The vertical line that marks the position of your next creation onto the page. I feel like it mocks me, each blink a word, and each word an insult to my “artistic” integrity.
All of my life I’ve never been able to swim. But, I’m having no trouble staying afloat in this sea of confusion. The rest of Generation Y seems complacent, their futures charted and their foreseeable obstacles mapped out. I’ve said to myself many times that events I’ve gone through and challenges I’ve overcame are just “stepping-stones” leading to a bigger and more monumental achievement. I wouldn’t even bequeath the title of a stone to my past accomplishments. A pebble seems more analogous. Yet, here I am balancing all my weight, tiptoeing on rudimentary gratifications, awaiting my chance to crash land on fucking Plymouth Rock. Trouble is, I don’t know where to start, or even what to start. Many have set sail with their “Jolly Roger’s” flapping away and I don’t even have a blueprint established for my vessel. I could use a GPS, but I wouldn’t even know what destination to punch in.
This, “posting something everyday for a year” is starting to seem a little sketchy. I’m fulfilling the requirement by putting meaningless, trite subjects on here. I’ll make sure to attempt to increase the quality, but maintain the quantity.
An embargo placed on my thoughts and ideas. A recession of useless thoughts inflated to complete frivolity. A flame once kindled to the sun’s veracity now dwindled into light emitted by an eight watt light bulb.