The Death of Originality: High School

IMAG1542I’ve written so many essays my thoughts just bleed together. There isn’t a single new formation or structure in them anymore. I miss my pen just hitting paper, the swirl of ink coinciding with the streams of unconscious from my brain. I can’t remember the last time I wrote for the soul of my being, or put it in a piece. Can’t the teachers start to notice the dry, empty papers that have not a new thought to express? Or have they become so accustomed that even my bland essays become a pulse of life in their hands? The vibrancy of originality has vanished from my life with the stress of school and work. When will I receive a new, untouched idea in which I can squeeze the flavor from until it is too reduced to a pulp? That fleeting inspiration so fresh and unadulterated that I will be unaware that I am even writing- when will it come? My routine has become my rut, my circle of life. I acquire no inspiration from cold, unfeeling mornings or the dull and lifeless instructions of the day. All the new knowledge feels the same as the old in an environment of zombified teenagers. We starve for success and lack motivation. We seek enthusiasm and receive few outlets. Yet we are expected to arrive fresh as daisies, all revved to go with no deviation or change of schedule. We are expected to find delight in the drone of uninterested teachers. We are to go home and formulate, solve, ponder the subjects we have been injected with unwillingly. But this happens day after day, to the doom of our head, deadened by the intelligence meant to incite us towards becoming greater beings.

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About the Author

Sarah Eberly is both an English and Geography major at UNC Charlotte. One day she aspires to be an urban planner and to inspire people to reconnect and interact with their communities. She was most accurately described by one of her friends as a person with "long legs and places to be." She is thankful for the experience Sanskrit has given her, and cannot wait to see where her journey will take her next year.
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