The truth is that I really, really, really like ice cream. Call me ordinary, but my favorite is vanilla. There’s just something about it that feels secure and it just tastes oh-so-familiar. I kind of love that. My mom says that I need to stop eating so much of it and “watch my weight.” By the way, have you ever noticed how that phrase doesn’t quite make sense? How can a person watch their weight? Is it like your childhood playmate, which changes and grows into a middle aged working individual? Anyway, it brings me comfort. I think that that matters more than the number on my store-bought pant’s tag. The idea seems most logical to me at least. Maybe I won’t live as long as most due to diabetes, closed arteries, and other various health issues… but really, when it all comes down to the end, I’m going to want to look back and reflect on the fact that I truly enjoyed the time I had, and the ice cream that I ate. Once I’m amongst the dirt’s friends, they’ll be able to smell and taste the remains of lactose, sugar, and sweet memories on me, so it won’t be all that terrible. I also love crowd surfing. It makes me feel infinite. It’s like everyone in like world wants to help lift me and carry my troubles away with the congested air. Sometimes though, the dirt fills my lungs, but I just think about how I’ll be safe soon, close to my destination and inspirations of music. My mom didn’t like hearing about the fact that I participated in such an unsafe action the first time around, but now that I make a habit of doing dangerous things, she doesn’t ask anymore. I kind of like it that way. I’ve always been overprotected by my government-brain-washed, divorced parents. I know that they hear and see things that I can’t imagine in the Department of Defense, but I suppose that it would have been nice to take a walk to the park by myself as a kid. It would have seemed like a marvelous adventure to me. But solitude and my bedroom are my friends. I like to be alone to think and fill my brain with the sound waves that come from my library of music. Different scenarios and thoughts dance around my head and light up like fireflies when I’m left alone to my sanctuary. It’s sort of delightful. Don’t get me wrong, I couldn’t imagine being without my 4 brothers, 3 sisters, friends, and my dog named Morgan Louise Roivas Burnheimer, who goes by Moose. They are the most meaningful things to me in my essence here on planet Earth.
I’m not really certain what it is that I’m supposed to be writing about on this small silver of a tree, but I figured that you might want to know a little bit more about who I am. I’m shy, and my dad says that I get that from him. I wasn’t this way though. Believe it or not, back in elementary school I used to be the class clown. And I liked being outgoing. Making people smile and not caring what others thought about me made me happy. That was a time though when 8 year olds didn’t judge or sum an individual up. Truthfully, I have no idea how I am perceived now by others. I’m not sure if that bothers me or not, but I think I sort of like who I am and I wouldn’t change a whole lot about myself. (Other than these awkward arms that I have…) mumbling is a common occurrence with me. My dad yells at me sometimes, and my little sister pokes fun at the fact that I do it often. I think that I subconsciously am afraid to be heard or speak my thoughts. To tell you the truth, this piece of writing that I composed is not what I figured I would be putting together, but I can’t seem to write about anything exceptional anymore without a purpose, and that kind of saddens me. All I know is that I want something that I love and can rely on right- ice cream.
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