Art is a part of life. It explains the disillusioned minds that overrule the judgments of a controlling society. It oversteps the boundaries in strokes that cause life to be more than just an essence; it turns it into a vision. Time stands still as papers fly by, one by one, they soar into the oblivious world never to be seen or read by anyone. Brilliance is lost among the words that had once been sung in lyrics of poets and dreamers. Shadows fade, hearts turn to brittle stone, and soon the world is consumed by an ash filled rubble of an ignorant generation. Tick tock, the gator is gainning speed and each step I take seems to be one step closer to someone I will never meet. Hold steady, here it comes, the wave that may consume this college zombie life that we all wallow through each day. Life is just another coffee, another storm, just another day of living the infamous dream. Living lies that never seem true, plagued by dishonorable truths of the media’s news. Constant war and stress and work, how can I pay for something that has no worth? Life is slipping by, each word I write is lost, it is gone, but not forgotten, because when the words that I need most appear I know that they are always here. Write each paper not as an assignment, but as a story, because slowly each of those papers becomes another chapter in your own story, so tell it well.
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