When stars die, they go out in a blaze of glory. When I was twelve years old, I planned out my death in detail. I would light a tightrope on fire and string it above Niagara falls, then attempt to walk across it on my hands. By my reasoning, I would inevitably fail in this endeavor and thus, earn remembrance. A legacy. This dream has evolved past a flashy end as I have gotten older however, the many brushes with death have morphed my need to shine into a need to build something that will outlive me. I make art in order to keep getting up every day. I paint for hours, and I write poetry, and essays. I learn languages and I sing when I do the dishes. I am very invested in living, because I have tasted mortality.

I am a boxer, I have flown planes a few times, and I am a really bad cook. I speak Spanish which I learned from my Madrina, and I once shot an arrow into the siding of our house because my aim is so bad. I have lived a lot of lives and I have friends in a lot of places. I read books all the time, and I know a concerning amount about the 1453 Ottoman Turk siege of Constantinople. Oh and my name is Indy (Yes I was named after Indiana Jones) and I am seventeen.

By; Indy