Skip to main content
PBS logo

The Eclectic Pen - ardent? thAn collapse.

By: ericjasongastelum   + 52 more  
Date Submitted: 7/5/2008
Last Updated: 12/14/2008
Genre: Literature & Fiction » General
Words: 629

  i woke up last night, i was not sleeping, and no ,i was not high or chemically enhanced. it's funny i would say a word like "chemically" though.
you see, i am chemicals, and in reality i was a theory put to existence. we'll get to that thought when we need to know about that part of my thinking.
i woke up and my first thought was, 'when i was in school 17 years ago so many were so eager and fascinated with what a grown-up with a degree, a lousy simple four year degree had to tell them. i, of course wanted to learn the things that i wanted to know and never was taught with my own brain power how to write or add, even to subtract. i got by, doing as little work as i needed just to be where i didn't want to be.
they all told me that homework was a part of the deal. that i was to eat lunch every day at 11:25 am. some parts i did not disagree with, others i fought with a vigorous appetite to never agree with.
they have a name for children like me. mean words for parents to hear, sad words for kids to listen-in on.
words like, disapproving. also better words such as, a.d.d., and broken family. pronunciations that were profound words to me at the time, but are as familiar as lust and breathing to me now.
i thought back and wondered why i had always been so defiant in healthy ways. i thought about my grandmother, who was a finical audit of some sort for the largest hospital in our county, but thought about how she was not the revolting type. i thought about my uncles and all the greatness i thought they were, but it was not them that i had learned to be so thoughtful from. my mother was another factor in the greater search of this quest, but it was not there that i could find my answer.
could it be, that i was built to find my own ways and own paths to doing everything? even when i would walk home from school from the bus stop i would take my own route that was exhausting, i suppose, to any "normal" kid. but i had no reasons as to why i took my own path.
could it be, that all of this was built into me? could it be that now, to this day, i still question everything and find it hard to believe that, everyone i know could still be stuck in their same routine things?
is routine what i am headed for, or are some of us truly and thoroughly free as oxygen molecules that are found in almost everything?
bored and lost, but not lost at all. still bored but, i only know that word cause it is what i hear everyone else say. it's so popular of a thing that it must be the appropriate thing to say almost all the time.
when i gaze into my heart i know that i am not a bored person, or even a boring person. i am full of life and energies that i cannot explain and full of life and energies for activities that others find completely unnecessary to favor as pastime activities.
i see myself as billions of pixels rubbing against each other just waiting to find their next embarkment. i see myself as a passion that is so right and fervent for what i know and how i see things that i must seem wrong to a lot of people.

"you hate us 'cause we'll never go away
& like some sort of fungus we're growing everyday
& our knuckles aren't dragging, so I guess that leaves to say
our message isn't stopping until you drag us all away"

The Eclectic Pen » All Stories by ericjasongastelum

Member Comments

Leave a comment about this story...

Comments 1 to 4 of 4
Eva L. (wearetrees) - 7/6/2008 6:54 PM ET
Blue-eyed, backbone a bare spindle my muscles the threads circuits unknown songlines my life, mercurial unapologetic but happening not by chance but by surprise. After all, the architect of these bones wanted a soft bed alchemy poisons it is my fate to follow the grooves, then though I often reject their promise I found my own way! You can find yours. though of course we will meet ahead at the same tributary.
Eva L. (wearetrees) - 7/6/2008 6:58 PM ET
Blue-eyed, backbone a bare spindle - my muscles, the threads, circuits, unknown songlines. My life - mercurial, unapologetic, happening not by chance but by surprise. After all, the architect of these bones wanted a soft bed a mirror, and alchemy, and poisons. It is our fate to follow the grooves, then, though we often reject their promise and imagine it is reasonable to fight, and to fear our own footsteps. I found my own way! You can find yours. (Though of course we will meet just ahead at the mouth of the same tributary, lower our lips to the same sea.)
Angela D. (jaylou) - 7/6/2008 7:43 PM ET
Very intense. Very expresive. Good Story.
Stacy B. (stori) - 7/8/2008 9:35 AM ET
This was an amazing story!!!!!!!!!! Please keep writing!!!=)
Comments 1 to 4 of 4