.The Art of Writing.

.biieruesu.

I wish I could teach you the secret of writing. The secret of drawing out someone’s soul with a simple question (“How does that make you feel?”) or by simply staring at the way their eyes flicker under certain emotional stress.

I wish I could teach you the art of playing mute and pretending to not listen to the secrets and back-stabbings. I could show you how to write emotion and to not only be caught up in them. I could explain to you that eyes drift to the right when remembering and they cower in the left while lying. Arms crossed against your chest represent the distance they want to put between themselves and that person who can see their mind as if they’re displayed inside out. I could give you all-seeing eyes in the way of a writer and write a human better than one could act.

I wish I could teach you to write so you could maybe take some of this burden off of me to keep children’s eyes off of adult trivialities and back into stories where lessons aren’t so bold but there nonetheless. I wish we could destroy all televisions so that our imaginations aren’t full of “how to get away with things” but full of “it would be really cool to do,” or something like that.

Children haven’t been children for too long.

I wish I could teach you the art of writing so that children wouldn’t have to grow up for a couple of more days.