Cowards

Cowards.
They are humans.
They have dreams.
They want to make it big.

They want it all like someone owes it to them.
Like it would just show up in a sock in the morning.
It doesn't.

They think it is everybody's job to give them what they want.
Like they gave it all the longing they had.
Like they gave all their time and effort to someone else's dream.

Like just wanting is enough to deserve it.
It isn't.

The boss believes it.
The client believes it.
The coward doesn't.

They can't accept it.
Their own failure.
Or a lack of achievement.

Sights are set on the next generation.
Like the child is born with all their own unfulfilled dreams.

The child keeps trying to live the coward's life.
Subdued by force.
Forced by duty.

Duty-bound to its creator.
With its own dreams in the back seat.

Suddenly the child is all grown up.
With wants and dreams there is no time to fulfill.

Another coward bred on cowardice.
And the spiral continues into another generation.

Interpreting Silence

This is where it all started in fifth grade:

"I finished my test and sat in the library while I waited for my brother to finish his. 
It was an exam day. 
I waited for the whole school.
Third to twelfth grade.

I marveled at the silence that surrounded me. 
I waited for the Goddess of Learning to descend and bless the tranquility.
I could almost see a chariot of light descend any moment now.
That moment was not to happen.

What descended was realization.
I realized this silence was not what seers and hermits sought to be enlightened.

This silence did not lift burdens off the mind.
This silence was born of the burdens that young minds bore.

This silence was born of fear.
What fruit could a tree bear that grew from the seed of fear.

There was no amazement of learning.
No joy of achievement.

Only the fear of not performing well enough for expectations.

It was the silence of childhoods silenced in the name of education."

My dad read the unsigned note two years later. 
He showed it to me.
He said I should learn from whoever wrote it.

I told him it was mine.

He went silent.
I tried to interpret his silence.

To this day I do not know if he approved that his child was not someone he couldn't be ashamed of.

I kept interpreting silence per my convenience...

to be continued...