Isaiah

The Brick Mailbox

Who am I to think that the world does not revolve around me? I am just kid. At 9 years of age, playing around all day and nighttime, I longed for every moment. The time my mom would cross her arms while she waited and sat. Rocking back and forth in her chair on the front porch I knew she was tired of it. All the excuses and selective reasoning to all she has just been trying to concur, it had me perculiar. Inquisitive to many things understanding to very few. And that’s why I hated dreams because reality loved staring back at you.