Sitting by Myself at a McDonald’s
Why write? Why not write? You write to show how well you understood the political undertones in George Orwell’s “Animal Farm” for your 11th grade English teacher who smells vaguely of baby powder and sweet tea. I wrote to maintain a high scholastic standing among my peers, to show my teacher I knew how to convey a vast numerical amount without using the godforsaken “plethora”. You write to lose yourself in a world of metaphors and anachronisms because you think describing Abraham Lincoln wearing a pair of Yeezy’s is both symbolic of American consumerism and also super amusing. I write to give voice to an American experience plagued with holes of paranoia and to quell a fear that stems from the ignorance of an archaic mindset some individuals refuse to let go. You write to see. I write to feel. Or is it the other way around? You write. I write. It usually doesn’t make sense. But I think that’s kind of the point.