This Is My Home

I wish i understood what was going on inside Whitacare's, Mozart's, Berlioz's, Gershwin's heads when they created these masterpieces. They are so beautiful, i listen to them before i sleep and just want to cry. Not at how sad they make me but because they truely effect me where no other words can. Its true art. In my opinion, poetry does not necessairly have to be said with words. Its all said right there, in the harmonics of the choir's voice, or the symphony's vibrato or the piano's sustained chords. After a hard day of putting up with useless people and doing things that arent getting me anywhere, but are forced to do (school), These people im surounded with, i know its only a phase of my life but i want to be over it. The things that they do to each other and how they scrutinize you, they're not worth my time. Or anybody's for that matter. 1 more year and somehow i'll make it. What keeps me going is know that i have such a bright future ahead of me. I KNOW it. I have all of these ambtions and i know where i want to go; it would be impossible for me not to obttain them. My music professor is truley one of my greatest heros and inspirations. I look to his guidance more than my own fathers'. I would do anything to make him proud, but i know that i already have with just wanting to be as great as him.
Soon, i will rise above all of this useless high school crap. Im already above it, theres just so much of it. I feel like i was apart of a crowd in a large room, then i got annoyed with them, now im just pushing myself into a corner trying to get away from them all but i cant. Because the door is locked. And im just brooding with disgust and pity for the people who waste their time drinking their short lives away and hooking up and getting pregnant. It's stupid and pointless. Eastman, Juilard or the Jacob's School of Music. Thats where im headed, and im Never coming back to these people. Nothing describes how i feel better than these words: "A cloud does not know why it moves in just such a direction and at such a speed. It feels an impulsion. This is the place to go now. But the sky knows the reason and patterns behind all clouds. And you will know, too, when you lift yourself high enough to see beyond horizons." Richard Bach, Illusions.