Inspiration: Send in the White Coats!

Inspiration is not a person, or a place. It is not a scene or a dreamscape. Inspiration is a feeling that transpires time and space and allows me to feel the pain, the happiness, and the sublime powers of life. My inspiration does not come from one person, it comes from many persons. It is not just a scene set before my eyes, it is my imagination. Now this may seem a little strange, but my most influential and inspirational persons are not people at all, but rather the characters of the book I am writing in my mind. The main character for this is Mya Jay. Through her eyes I can see a world that is so much different than my own. When I envision her, she is a heroine, a role model, a friend, and a screw up. She is my inspiration because she can travel through time and to distant lands if I ask her to. Her sarcasm is my own and her life is a story of constant change and turmoil. It can be so entertaining and “I LOVE IT!” Along with her there is James, the love of her life that no matter what he can heal my mind. With his eyes I feel safe and I have found the perfect man. He is the inspiration for the epic love stories that control my heart. So, my most inspirational persons are nothing but figments of my imagination, so I guess that person is me. Don’t send in the white coats, I swear I am not crazy, I am a movie, transformed into a person, meant to share the stories of life with you.

Cell Block Kea: Prisoner: 616

Silently I can hear the sound of the pacing guards. The constant flow of inmate doors is deafening. Click, clank the boots shuffle by, as the haunting eyes peer through the opaque Cedar doors. The metal bars entomb me as I sit and stare at the seeping white bricks that contain me in despair and disillusionment. I can feel the straight jacket of school work and chaos tighten and I am confined to the images of my mind. Through my eyes, the shadows move in the creeping hall light. The sounds of laughter from inmates echo through the row and the instantaneous ring of clanking bars consumes the essence of my ear drums. I am falling through the pits into a psychosis of inner battles. In the hidden tears I find hope dwindling down as the papers and people begin to stack up. A punishment for the innocent mind, lost to the ignorance of my own dreams, I fight the voices that tell me I can, and I sink. The shoes shuffle through the empty hall, as we are ghost in the hell bound shadows of death row. Tick tock, Time stands still, and the death pardon is too late. Collapsing underneath the pressure of my body, a shimmering ember flickers in the window breeze, and gently is snuffed into the abyss. Abused by the fear of teachers and the constant stress of life’s tremors, college life has become my house of horrors. Imprisoned by the state and lost within the system, I wait. Too many days to count till freedom and with each passing moment I am one step closer to my demise. Electricity will race through my studious mind, disguised as an elegant flow of information. But, secretly, I know that the shock of information is the colorment to my black and white photograph, as I lay dying on the uncomfortable cold hard bed of room 204. The prison of Eastern overwhelms my soul, forced to reside within the confines of row Kea, forever I will be inmate 616, lost in the untamable sea. Live though the crisis of the everyday confinements, until hope and peace surrounds you. Break free from the prison and plan your escape, or else death row silence will determine your fate.

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