Dear November,
I didn't really do much today; we had the day off from school. I know a lot of people say they hate school and sometimes I pretend that I'm one of them, but it's my anchor. I just don't like to admit that the dreaded mundane hospice of learning is what keeps me grounded.
You can imagine how aimless I am during the summer, I suppose. The only thing that keeps me sane and anxious are the summer classes. That, and swimming, which I never like to compete in anyway. But two summers ago I took a writing class, and this summer I learned some Japanese. Two ingredients to a perfect storm: the crushing anxiety of /I need to get this done/ and the blanket of /we are actually learning?/ to cover things up. Fun times.
I'm trying to work on my story right now, but I fear that if I ever get the first draft done, I'll be so in love with it that I'll want it in physical form and everything. And then I know that even the idea of publishing will concern my parents, who I know will never approve of what I'm writing. The protagonist is a bisexual girl questioning morals and her sexuality, after all. All the rage and representation my dad could never condone.
And you, November, with nothing to lose? Tell me to screw it all? It's not that simple. I'm a lot younger than you think. I'm spending a lot more time under a roof of not my own beliefs than I want. It's my parents. I love them, but I don't agree with them a lot of the time. They say art should disturb the comfortable and comfort the disturbed, but I am neither, and my parents aren't either as well. We're not disturbed, but we're not comfortable. Then maybe we shouldn't be a part of art at all? Too late. I'm up to my eyes in it.
Hopefully you understand.
Sincerely, Esther
YOU ARE READING
dear november
Non-FictionThis is a compilation of letters I wrote daily during the month of November, starting November fourth, skipping one day? two days? and ending on November 30th. Originally done on Polyvore, by @writingtips' and @smileylina 's suggestion, who got the...
