by Alexandra Vyvyan<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I am 16 years old and I do creative writing for fun, I have had small pieces of writing published and enter competitions irregularly, I write more poetry than anything else and enjoy losing myself in writing. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
A teenage girl feels trapped and drowning in the mass of useless information forced upon her.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n I wondered if anyone\nelse noticed how pretty the sky was today, how the darkness was bright and soft\nall at once. I blinked transforming the green leaves from the oak into molten\nbands of blue turning to purple and pink. Gravity pulled me, flailing, through\nthe murky liquid seeping rapidly into my veins. I tried to order my thoughts. To\nkeep calm I began naming the colours. I wished I could change them.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I have\noften looked back on my life so far to see what I would change if I could. I\u2019m\nnot proud to say that each time I do this there seems to be more that I wish\nwas different and yet still, I do nothing about it. I never talked to the quiet\ngirl in the class until she moved away, and I never spent time with my family\nwhen I had the chance.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Subconsciously,\nI had dragged each colour into ordered rows in the sky. Starting with red.\nThere is red in everything I do. To me, red represents fire and sensitivity,\npassion, and rage. Green reminds me of jealousy and ambition. Next came blue.\nBlue is loyalty. One of the most important things in life. All these colours,\nvery different but all tinted with the same thing. Grey. Grey is emotionless,\ndull, timeless. Grey is all that I see some days. Some days I slump at the back\nof the class praying I won’t be called on. Some days when I wake up and\neverything seems pointless. Some days the grey blinds me, drowns me, grasps at\nme while I tried to run with sticky feet; in this case, the grey water covered\nmy eyes and ran through me as I gasped for the chance to see the sky one last\ntime. It was the same sky that was full of fire all day, the orange of every\nwintry hearth keeping me going, but now that I was at home staring at this\ntextbook, I was drowning in the realization of reality. I stared up at the\nstarless, moonless abyss searching for answers. That summer-fruit backdrop had\nchanged to hues of blue, purple and then almost magenta, colours merging as if\nthey were juice-mix dissolving in a glass of water or ink running off a page. I\nwished I could change it. The words stretching across this coloured canvas\ncreate a soul-blackening applique to the explosion of stress behind it.\nNormally I wouldn\u2019t pay attention to the colours of everyday objects unless it\nwas clothes, shoes, or stationery but this was a welcome distraction\u2014anything\nwas, even if it was just the colours outside my bedroom window.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I\nwanted to open the window and escape out onto the broad branches of the oak\noutside. But I couldn\u2019t. This is just something that my generation has been\ndestined for, from the day we were born, but with nothing we can do about it. A\nprivilege or a curse, both a debate that we can\u2019t join in on. I wish I could\nchange it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n My\nmind has been crammed with so much useless information, like the powerhouse of\na cell or the quadratic formula. So many useless things that I will never use\nbut will define me for the rest of my life. I am a number plotted on a graph,\nan item on a shelf waiting to be picked by someone wanting my work. That same\nsomeone will be able to decide the quality of my life providing I lived up to\nmy numbers, or the label I will be given on results day.<\/p>\n\n\n\n The\ngrey water is back, rising so quickly, choking me and swirling me up in this\nwhirlpool of knowledge. I can see nothing clearly; numbers, equations, quotes,\ndates, points in time, people, opinions and everything else imaginable to a teenage\ngirl like myself. The whirlpool was draining. I was too, but I had no way of\nchanging it.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"featured_media":0,"template":"","categories":[401],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-5459","project","type-project","status-publish","hentry","category-sixth-form-stories"],"acf":[],"jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/uniofglos.blog\/creativewriting\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/project\/5459","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/uniofglos.blog\/creativewriting\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/project"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/uniofglos.blog\/creativewriting\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/project"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/uniofglos.blog\/creativewriting\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=5459"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/uniofglos.blog\/creativewriting\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=5459"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/uniofglos.blog\/creativewriting\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=5459"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}