Anyone can pretend. In fact, its easier to pretend. Talk is cheap. Could you be something real?
Its sad, to feel so bad for people older than you. When someone is so down that you can feel pity for them, even when they've lived longer, its heartbreaking.
My Advanced Sculpting teacher, Mister Macay, has been my sculpting teacher since my Freshman year. He's very bright and wise and inspiring; easy to get along with. At least, that's how he used to be. On April 16th of this year, when my Sophomore year was coming to a close, there was a shooting at Virginia Tech, in Blacksburg, Virginia. Macay's youngest sister had been a student there. She wasn't one shot on that day, but many of her friends [including her boyfriend] were killed. After the event, she'd slipped into a depression. A month later, she'd returned to Sherman. Six days after that, she killed herself.
Now, all Macay does is slump around in a sort of sadness that surpasses all sadness I've ever seen [except maybe my own].
We worked on our first project today; sculpt an element. Everyone does the easy ones. Flames, waves, trees, et cetera. I'm going to do air, or wind. Capricious. I have an idea. Its going to be hard. I won't give up until its perfect.
I don't want his sadness. But how do you avoid something that's chiseled into you?
`Cambell Din, 24.August.2007














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