i have worn a path to my lake
i have worn a path to my lake.
if someone wanted to kill me, they would. at 5 am, i get up everyday. i get into the shower. i get into the car from my driveway at approximately 6 am. i arrive at school approximately 6:07. i am in jazz band, then band, english, calc physics historyspanish, it's all the same. i rarely vary my path to the same classes in the same rooms at the same times. my body is exhausted from the schedule that i force it to conform to. thoreau bought a beautiful corner of the world to leave all of that. and yet he had been taught so deeply order and conformity, that he slipped into a pattern. i have slipped into a fucking pattern and I cannot break it. I have been taught, We have been taught from birth to conform, to fit, to fill. We are born, We fuck or don't fuck, We, we die.
i have worn a path to my lake.
birth, sex, death. birth sex death. birthsexdeath. birthsexdeathbirthsexdeathbirthsexdeath life. porch, grass, lake. porch grass lake. porchgrasslake. porchgrasslakeporchgrasslake path.
i'm angry. at myself, at life, at society. children are fucking mutilated. they say that first graders score higher on iq tests than third graders because they have had two less years in the public school system. and it's not the teachers' fault. they've been taught. hate is taught.
i have worn a path to my lake.
i was dating a boy in seventh grade. i was very excited and i was almost happy. my mother went ballistic when i told her. i didn't understand why, he is smart and plays the trumpet so beautifully that it makes me cry. i didn't understand. she said that i shouldn't date black boys. and then i realized that he was different. i hadn't even noticed. i never noticed as a child. i thought about it. i realized that he was the only black person in our band. i realized that he was different. and now i notice. all the time. because i was taught. by my mother. i was taught. that's how hate is taught.
i have worn a path to my lake.
i know that i need people, but so often i used to dream about being away. far away. alone. with my own land. beautiful scenery. something to look at. something beautiful. there is a place i go, now. it's pathetic. i Hide under a freeway overpass. it used to be empty desert where my uncle would take me and i'd hunt for treasures. but now the wash is all paved over. i still go there. alone. at night. i hide there. the cars streaming above me. it's freezing, but i sleep there sometimes. longing for a place to be away. but i know. there's a fucking pattern. even if an individual is removed from a society, he keeps the patterns he's learned. i'd be the same, even though i strive to be different. i strive so hard. too hard. i want to be different. i can't help...
i have worn a path to my lake.
...can't help but obey what is ingrained into my head. for the longest time i thought that women weren't supposed to be satisfied during sex. i thought that i had to grow up and marry a boy and have children. that thought appauled me. now i make sure that i'm satisfied and i date girls. i'm going to donate my ovaries to science when i turn 18. i'm sexually deviant.
i thought that i would have to kill myself working so hard on school work, busy work, i'd have to kill myself over work just to get to college. and in college, i'd have to work even harder and then get a job and work even harder and harder and harder until i die. but amber's brother rose hell in our middle school and they moved him on to high school from seventh grade. now that he's a sophmore, they're sending him to get his ged and go to college. why do i work so fucking harrrrrrdddddddddd???????????? it's driving me fucking mad.
i have worn a path to my lake. i have been taught from square one that i am a girl and i'm useless and i have to work so hard, but i don't. look at me, writijng at ten oclock at night an assignment that i didn't even know about until a few hours ago. why aren't i writing my zine, somehting i love? why aren't i sleeping? reading a book i fucking want to read??!??????????1?!?!?!?!?!?!?! i was so happy after the first quarter project that i'd finally get to read some of hte books that i want to read, but then this assigment cam eup. i'm so angry. school takes up all of my time, adn maybe i'm just dumb and mayeb it's my fault, but i don't want to do it anymore. i could quit. tomorrrow. i could test out of the rest of it and go to unlv in the spring. it has to be easire than this shit. and look at me, still writing. letting scjhool dominate my time and my energy and sucking the life out of me. i'm not even going to edit out the cursing. i'm not going to spell check.
i'm going to break free of this fucking path. i want out. i just thought about putting an mla heading on this paper before printing. fuck society. how am i going to "unlearn and learn again" what i need to know? how am i going to unlearn what society has done to me?
END.
I want to get thrown out of school. Any suggestions? E-mail to me at UrielsPoet@aol.com
Any questions, comments, anything you want to add to this, etc, drop me an e-mail for that, too!
I'm going to start a political zine at my school called something along the lines of "Fuck This Shit" and I need material. Send it to me!
fallen
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