Dear UCs

This system doesn't work for me. I don't learn like the rest of them. All this "write an essay, stop when the work bell rings" shit isn't good enough for me. I'm not being taught, I'm being held back. No child left behind, but i'm not going to wait for him to catch up. This prompt said to avoid use of creative writing, because school isn't a place to express individuality, right? Like god forbid I be fucking different. Nobody successful broke any rules. Follow the format like a good little boy. Because anyone can obey the guidelines, but it takes the truly gifted to break the rules and still succeed. What we are supposed to write is not an essay, it is a contract, selling my body to the people who are trying to steal my mind. But I'm not writing that. I'm a bird, I'm free, different, better, smarter maybe. But do you look at me, the urban poet, without a scoff or shaken head? Do you think I can still make something of myself even with all my Ds and Fs? Ever stop to think that maybe those classes are some of my strongest subjects, and my GPA of 2.03 is a statement? it says "I'm not like you. I am the thinkers of tomorrow, for I 2 am fr3e." Why do I, a rebel, a person who doesn't agree want to go to a university? Another school. Another prison for free though. Because college is different. It is a safe haven for individuality. We don't have to fall for the trap.

I grew up in a bad household. My dad hit my mother, my mother hit us, we hit each other and so on and so forth. My father took to drugs as his escape, my mother left him and my sisters and brothers left me. So I was abandoned. So I decided drugs would be my escape too. Drugs and becoming the same man as my father. When my friends and girlfriend decided that they had had enough of me being an all out bad person, they decided that it was time to fix me, and so fix me they did. Being sober for 2 years and having not physically hurt a girl in a few months is a big step for me, I feel like a better person. And maybe I am. My mom isn't proud of a single thing I've done, because my grades are bad. My grades aren't good enough for colleges to even look in my direction. But that's a mistake. My grades don't reflect my intelligence. My mom says "Don't make excuses, excuses are for politicians." Maybe I want to be a politician, maybe I want to prove my mom wrong.

Going to college would be a huge step for me, especially a university. Every time I think about graduating high school, I panic. It's a bit calming, having my entire day set up for me. Not being able to (or having to) make any decisions is a bit secure. I don't ever have a day where I go "Now what?" but after I leave high school, I'm afraid that's what will happen. Not if I have somewhere else to go. Somewhere else to go, means that again, I get to do things without thinking. I hope that I get into a UC, for the simple reason that I'll prove to a lot of people that it's not impossible. You just have to set your goals. Being able to express myself without having to go out of my way to make plans will be a great thing, also. Whatever though, all I know is, you've more than likely stopped reading. So fine. Toss my paper aside and send me a generic "We don't want you" letter. Just remember that we, the free thinkers, are not to be cast aside. We're supposed to be accepted.

Breathe in.
The media idolizes idiot guidos.
I'm at home wondering if i've still got a mind.
Breathe out.
The world is plagued with nuclear weapons.
I've got a spider staring at me from across the room.
Breathe in.
Everybody competes to see who's better dressed.
I'm still wondering if I'll ever get fucked up enough to kill myself.
Breathe out.
"Do you blaze?"
I wonder why my mind won't let me.
Breathe in.
"I love you."
You say things you don't mean, but urban poetry splashed across factory walls and brick buildings by spray cans scream nothing but the absolute truth. They say 'I'll get you, you can't run'
Breathe out.
You tell me to pull the trigger.
I'm still looking for the fucking gun.
Breathe in.
Kids dead on pavement tell me to keep on walking.
My feet tell me to contemplate jumping.
Breathe out.
You point at me and tell me I've got nowhere to go.
I don't fucking doubt it.

Maybe I'm crazy for the sheer pleasure of going totally fucking insane.

For The Sake Of Being Dangerous.

There are some people in this world who are neither here nor there.
But we all have desires.
Not the dreams and hopes we make public, but secret, hidden desires.
Some people go there whole life wondering what it would be like to kill a person, and some people go forever thinking about how bad they just want to jump off a building.

Doing things for the sake of being dangerous.
I wonder how capable of murder I am, yes, but I've never really seriously considered doing it.
I couldn't.
I've always wanted to jump off of a building, but I've wanted to survive, so I'm not sure it counts.
I hate the idea of it, but I want to destroy the world.
By myself, ruin everyones life, and whatnot.
I'm doing it to myself, again.
Being dangerous for the sake of being dangerous.
Going crazy for the sake of going crazy.
Hurting her before she can hurt me.

the ripping and the tearing...