On the way to school each day, I pass through a graffiti-covered tunnel. Walking through, I can see the eagerness- the panic even - in each drawing and proclamation. Every layer is a message - a voice desperately seeking acknowledgment, validation, understanding. In an effort to be heard, these fervent voice conflate, resulting in an incomprehensible mass. Layer builds upon layer until the whole is incoherent.
Though many are muffled, the stories persist. We may never know the profundity that lies hidden beneath the build-up, but I'd like to believe that these anxious voices will not go completely unheard.
There is always a chance that someone will come along- someone with patience and determination- someone who is willing to look and listen. And when that person comes... maybe the voices will be satisfied. Maybe their endless pursuit for validation will cease to be in vain, and maybe all the pain that has built up over the years will be washed away. Maybe.
tagging "felt unfettered and alive ... no one's future to decide"
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