freakishwriting

[freakishwriting]

I WISH I KNEW YOU

I wish I knew you. People tell me so many great things about you.

Like how you are willing to help anyone with any project, chore or shift. How you will stop what your doing and call when a friend is hurting or text an old friend just to check up on them. How many friends have you drove home after a late night at the bar?

I wish I knew you. People tell me so many great things about you.

Like how you are so good with people. How you listen to no end and always seem to have the right answers. Some word of wisdom to lift the blanket of doubt. How you can get down to a kids level, play with them, talk with them and make them feel like they are important. Like the big bad world isn’t that big or that bad.

I wish I knew you. People tell me so many great things about you.

Like how you have the biggest smile and the loudest laugh. How you can light up a room with your horrible jokes and make someone feel safe with a simple grin. How your not afraid to stand up for others and reach out your hand to help them get back up on their feet.

I wish I knew you. People tell me so many great things about you.

Like how you know exactly where you are going with your life and how you will get there. How your compass is always pointing North, and you can help point the way when the storms of chaos rush in. How you stand tall amongst those who have already given up on their dreams like a lighthouse.

I wish I knew you. People tell me so many great things about you.

But it’s too late. I guess I’ll never get to know you because you helped others but not me. You smiled at and made others laugh and snort but not me. You got down on your knees to play with children so they wouldn’t feel so small but left me alone, reaching and begging for answers as words of wisdom entered other ears like water from a spring.

I know so much about you and yet the face on the other side of this mirror is a strangers.

I wish I had more time but my hope has ran out and my courage is withered. My strength is missing and my dreams have flown away leaving only this blade in my hands as a way to escape because unlike the people around me I don’t know you and I was the one who needed you the most.

I wish I knew you.

By Noah Huebert

[freakishwriting]

A little paragraph about art and being an artistic

There is something serene yet disturbing about being an artist. Your hands are transformed into tools of sorcery, channeling the raw magic of your imagination onto a canvas. Calluses on your fingers and hands that numb the places where the magic wand of a pencil or paintbrush lay against your skin but can’t betray the intimately familiar weight they carry. The vapor of fresh sketch paper, graphite, acrylics, oils, or permanent markers permeates the air as they enter your cauldron. The intoxicating fumes begin to blur the boundaries of reality and fairy. The sounds of the real world are muffled. Voices and music are replaced by nearly audible crackles of electric potential popping around you as time slows. The spell you weave nears completion and the world of fairy locked within your mind is ushered into the waking world. As your creation steps foot onto the canvas, fully realized, the enchantment abruptly ends. Your labor is complete. At that moment there is serenity, exhilaration, awe but at the same time, a deep sadness. Your creation, once alive and flying amidst the clouds of endless possibility has now been chained down by the crushing laws of chemistry, biology, and physics.

By Noah Huebert