Speaking in class. People think I'm really quiet, but I don't need to be a pain in everybody else's butt by speaking a lot. I'm still gonna learn. Actually, I don't care about the others. I just hate talking in class.
Anyway, yesterday was Creative Day in Brit. Lit. and we had to share our Romantic Poems, and I had no interest in sharing my poem, but according to my group, mine was the best, and Prof. Eastley said at least one person from each group should share their poem.
When I had to read mine, I was feeling terrible. I said, and I quote "This is the first time I speak up in class... probably will be the only one. I'm sorry about my language being so simple, but my first language is Spanish so..."
He who lifts me up
He, with his angel eyes,
Vast and starred like the bright blue sky,
Comes to me, and beside me lies,
Whispers he’d never make me cry,
Both thin and strong the bond that us ties,
In silence and tears, we’ve wanted to fly.
He, who suffers my misery,
Cries my pain and my blue sad story
Need I an answer to my query?
Need I a love, a promise, and glory?
Or do I just dream of this sublime scenery?
Would I drown if he weren’t sorry?
He, who wiped away my tears,
When he found me broken-hearted
Stays and frees me of my fears
Lets me know the beauty’s started
Knowing him for long warm years
Sorrow filled me once we’d parted.
When I was done, Tanner, this kid that was in my 291 class last semester, started snapping like crazy and turned and said "That was awesome!" They said it was very Blakish. Funny considering I was trying to follow Lord Byron's style. Well, Blake's pretty awesome too. Apparently it was because I talk about loss. Prof. Eastley said it was really hard to write a serious poem... and mine was. I was embarrassed.
I hate having attention drawn to me! But honestly, it was great to be in the spotlight for having done something good and snap-worthy. It was a scary feeling. A great scary feeling.
I'm so proud.
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