Sentence. Paragraph.

Rain dribbles down my window sil, taking every interest away.

Sometimes, it just seems like this world is just one big sentence.

A sentence that only descibes nothingness..

My teachers have taught me to make a showing sentence, yet it seems even they tend to just right a telling sentence.

Was this world ever a world of interest? Showing? Acting? Proving? I

It seems like it never was...

The thought lingers in my head, as if it is a permanet memory of a longing desire.

Thunder shakes my home as I slowely walk off into my room of gray.

Acting... never actually done 'acting'

Showing... how can I show this gloomy world?

Proving... for what do I have to prove?

I decide one thing... I have to

Show that I can Prove.

Prove that I can Act.

Act like this world is a showing sentence.

A ketchup bottle, mustard, and a pink feathers is all that I need for my preformance.

Ketchup, and mustard collide with my wall, showing that I can prove this world is a theater

Feathers scatter around the room, proving that I can act Fearless.

The bravery took to do this... made me Act. Made me act into this world, changing it to a paragraph.

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The world needs creativity... and only YOU can do that. Show you can prove yourself.. Prove that you can act for the world.. Act like this world is a showing sentence