Musings of a Part-Time Platypus

Once again, a day of contemplation has fallen upon me. So here y'all go, for anyone that is interested. I call it "This Universe, This Mind."  xoxo Sam This Universe, This Mind I am afraid to reach for the stars because I cannot hold them. Afraid to brush the unknown with my fingertips; For I must pull back too soon and hide the blisters Of these dreams that scald. I do not dare to smile at a moon that will never smile back Afraid to wish upon it, to dream of what lies on the dark side; To see the dents and scars masked in creamy white Of a goddess that runs forever from the sun. I am afraid to gaze into the vast expanse of the universe Afraid to lose myself in this chaos that never ends, Where minds turn to madness trying desperately to  Uncover mysteries locked within these galaxies. But it pains me most to look within, At wobbling towers of hopes held together by a thread At a heart chained down, imperfections concealed in darkness, At this mind spiraling toward a poin...

(Note: This article was started in April, finished in November) April 20, 2020 April's always a bit weird. Especially for us public high schoolers. We're a little over halfway into the semester, and that means a lot of things: preparing for exams, counting down the days until school ends, rainy days, and procrastinating-on-thinking-about-studying-for-finals. Yes, I see you. We're in the same boat.  This April is different. This April, we on a national–and global–shutdown. The United States economy is falling hard. People are falling sick around the world. And it might feel like our little universes–the familiar things: school, friends, family–are falling away.  But enough dramatic, flowery writing.  Every April, NaNoWriMo holds an event called Camp, where participants are encouraged to set personal goals and write throughout the month–just write. It can be any type of writing, and of any genre.  It's been an absolute escape from the turmoil of daily life.  Novem...

I've waited since last Friday for this moment. And I waited all of last week for last Friday. I tried to enjoy the weekend. Friday night was quiet. The TV was on, and I can't quite recall what Netflix was chirping at me. I was nestled in a fuzzy throw, my eyes closed, on the verge of subconscious. But the next morning, it was over. Saturday was the prelude to Sunday–which sang of the impending doom of Monday. Most Saturday mornings, I am awake at six. Creep downstairs. Shut doors gently. Watch the late autumn rain patter onto the streets as I let my eyes wander down the page of a book. Until someone else awakes, and I feel the need to do something  under the watchful eyes of productive members of society. And in that moment, my Saturday is already lost.  I live Sundays in fear of the week. School, homework, not being able to have those moments on the couch, with the television to myself. Waking up early because I have to, not because I want to. Waking to the thought of submis...