This saying good by, packing up all my stuff for good, and leaving the place that has been my home for three years makes me feel like I have been thrown around a lot. I might just break.
Thursday, June 17, 2010
The breaking of a brick
I realized today as I was hulling bricks up to the third floor of Harvey House, that I am like a brick. I don't show emotion really, I have the same straight face when I am in pain, happy, sad, or angry. It is not like I bottle it up inside me like, afraid to let it out, I just don't really show what I am feeling. I might express it with words or actions, but my face will remain the same. I am like a brick; if you chip at me enough, throw me around, and drop me a few times I might break. The only difference between me and a brick is the fact that my body is mostly made of water, and I do, believe it or not, have the ability to cry.
This saying good by, packing up all my stuff for good, and leaving the place that has been my home for three years makes me feel like I have been thrown around a lot. I might just break.
This saying good by, packing up all my stuff for good, and leaving the place that has been my home for three years makes me feel like I have been thrown around a lot. I might just break.
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But books are also like bricks, even more so:
ReplyDeleteBoth are rigid and are rectangular prisms.
Both are heavy and have an apparent lack of water.
Both are just one of many whether it be a wall or a library.
However, that being said I would much rather be with a book instead of a brick. The biggest irony is that it is harder to read a book then a brick. A book can not be predicted where as a brick is always the same. And the best part is that if you chip at a book enough, throw it around enough, drop it a few times, the book might break, but the concept of the book never does.
You’re a book not a brick.