I am an artist. Not a scientist, an artist. My canvas is the crisp pages of a journal. My paintbrush, my pen filled with ink. While my paint is my words, creating a world where imagination has no limits. Where a forbidean love can blossom as an endless cherry blossom tree. Or where you can fly high above the trees, feeling the cold wind gently blow through your long hair. This is the world I live in, a world of imagination and dreams. So this is the part I do not understand; If i am an artist, then why try and make me a scientist? This is the question which haunts my mind as I settle down for a peaceful nights sleep. It burns through my dreams, filling my head with nightmares of what my next Science test grade will be. The fear sometimes overtakes my body completly, so when test day comes all the things I have learned, slip through my hands like silk as I desperatly try and hold on.
And even now, as I sit in my science class, listening to the dry, endless tales of how an atom is the key componet to our existence, I ponder this question. When and where in my life will I have to learn about atoms unless if i am writing a Science Fiction story, which is highly unlikly as I just so happen to hate science fiction. Or math for that matter. When will I ever need to use Polynomials in my future job? I don't think anywhere . I hear the bell echo throughout my class room, science is finally over with. I quickly gather my belongings and head to my last class as a new thought crosses my mind.
Kasumi Sora Community Member 
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