In this room, in this silence broken only by Imogen Heap, I find so many things:
The oppression that bears down on me in a darkening room, until I break the shadows with annoying florescent lighting. All I have is music, literature, art, and sexual deviance in the form of porn (my jaded emotional release, if that makes sense). The tv's off for once and I find my existence... Prolonged maybe? No, stretched taut. The absence of visual moving media works its wonders on a mind full of images and quotes.
I realize why I am in this pretentious and soul-seeking, maybe not in the sense of spirituality and/or religiousness, institution known as the Honors College. Somehow, in this Black mind, I embody the values and the goals of this organization. Or maybe, I'm the subject of the ideal of Affirmative Action, one of the few African Americans who applied. Maybe I'm qualified; who knows. It's a question I don't see worth in asking. Would I leave to prove a point or would I stay to perpetuate an innately racist system?
I find myself in bits of anguish, tired expression of thought. Who am I?
I've decided to write down my thoughts. Do I have a brilliant mind, or is my naivete really under the guise of intelligence?
Bittersweet for the truth I represent. I'll end it here.
No comments:
Post a Comment