Don’t Touch Me
Benie N’sumbu 1/19

     I recently read in The Guardian that we’re becoming a less touching society. People aren’t touching each other like they once did for fear of giving off the wrong impression. I also saw a PSA by the Girl Scouts of America around the holidays urging parents not to force their children to hug relatives (or anyone for that matter) if they don’t feel like it. The PSA said that forcing young children to respond to adults with some kind of physical contact can lead to adverse, lasting effects as they get older. The fear is that young girls will think they have to acquiesce when it comes to physical contact when they get older, which will give them an distorted understanding of relationships.
     I felt conflicted. Before the article about touch, I had begun writing my own piece about not wanting to be touched and how no one should force me to touch anyone I don’t want to. But, after reading The Guardian piece, I wondered if maybe I’m hurting myself by having a zero-tolerance policy about touch.
     To me, touch is such an intimate form of contact. Whether it be a handshake or a hug, to me any kind of touch feels personal. I am already uncomfortable when it comes to verbal intimacy; I don’t usually like to express my thoughts and emotions, but touching takes vulnerability to a whole other level. When someone comes in for a hug with me or outstretches their hand for a shake, my body clams up and the relaxed posture I may have had moments before instantly stiffens. I suddenly feel like an open blister exposed to cool air. It’s uncomfortable and it hurts sometimes.
     My aversion to touch is not something that sprung up out of thin air. As a child, I always hugged my friends or found some way to make physical contact with them because it made me feel close to them. However, after one-too-many experiences of unwanted physical contact, I shut myself off from any type of touch and swore that I would only touch people I felt the closest to.
     Well, I’m 17, and I still can’t find it in me to willingly hug my friends. The thought of giving them a high-five never even enters my mind when we’re joking around at lunch. I’m starting to see the negative effects of this because now when I am going through a rough time and could benefit from some emotional comfort, everyone around me thinks that it’s better to just leave me be. 
     It’s astonishing (and heartbreaking) to me that while my touch aversion first started out as a defense mechanism, now that I am older and out of the original danger, I find that  in an effort to protect myself, I’ve sabotaged my ability to connect with people emotionally. And even though being left alone is not what I want now, how do I go about changing so that I’m not uncomfortable with physical affection from the people I love?
     In the article, researcher Kellie Payne--who is also the policy manager at the Campaign to End Loneliness--explains that lack of touch due to prior negative experiences leads to anticipation of negative consequences with people “which makes it hard to reinstate contact.” I see now that the longer I continued my strike on touch, the more I associated negative emotions with it. Furthermore, by robbing myself of touch I hurt my relationships with those around me. I can see my friend’s smile shrink when I inadvertently dodge her hug and I cringe as people profusely apologize to me once they see me wince if they grab my arm while laughing. These are things that shouldn’t affect me as much as they do, things that most people wouldn’t even notice, and yet here they are consuming my thoughts.
     I think the first step to changing this habit is to find out if I’m ready to make the conscious effort to stop doing this to myself. Touch shouldn’t be something that we teach our kids to fear, because we need it. Instead of giving a bad reputation on physical contact, we should instead teach one another that touch is good; it’s okay as long as it’s coming from a safe source. And most importantly, "no means no." Touch is only okay if you consent to being touched; normalizing verbal communication regarding intimacy is pertinent to reversing our touch-averse society.
     Knowing what I know now, I wish I’d had someone to remind me that touch could be positive and teach me the importance of consent. Sometimes a simple gesture, such as asking someone if they would like a hug, could change so much for a person. I know, because it did for me.
      So please don’t touch me…without asking first. And respect my decision if I choose to say no.

The Truth
By Ashley Galindo 6/19

​     A boy not much older than 5-years-old witnessed his mother being beaten every night. Her face was bloody, with cuts on her lips and scratches on her cheeks. As if the purple and red spots on her arms and legs were a normal thing to see. The boy had come to a realization that it was an everyday thing only being in his room; the white room with a blue border with a blue nightstand with a silver and blue lamp on top, a mini fridge that was filled to the brim with fruits and rotisserie chicken, a 36 pack of water bottles on one side with a garbage can on the other. At exactly 9 pm on many nights the boy, not much older than 5, heard the sound of a door being slammed shut. The boy’s mother looked through the hidden security cameras and saw the man. The man who didn't understand how to make his legs function properly. As he came closer to the door the boy, not much older than 5, perceived a recognizable scent. It was a mix of Don Julio and the musty smell of engine oil.       At exactly 11 pm on many nights, the boy, not much older than 5, was mesmerized by the blue and red fireworks gleaming through his windows. The boy, not much older than 15 years old, realized those weren’t fireworks he had been seeing every night, that those purple and red spots were not supposed to be there, that that mini fridge inside his room that was filled with fruits and rotisserie chicken was not supposed to be there. He realized his father was not supposed to be there either.​

Modern Day Stoic
Thomas Small 4/19

     Stoicism is the idea of living your life without complaining, instead of dwelling on problems and issues in your life. This doesn't mean you live your life keeping everything in, not speaking out when necessary. Rather, you find solutions to your problems
     It’s been 13 years since I noticed the first issue in my family. Of course at the age of 3 you’re too innocent to even know what an issue is. Looking back, there were definitely a lot of them. Despite all the problems, my parents still managed to be amazing. They always loved me, gave me what I wanted, and what I needed.
     As a child, you don’t know why things are the way they are. For many years I’ve lived the phrase "it is what it is." I would always ask questions, but most of them weren't important questions. Thinking about it now, I wish I had asked the right questions, but as a child, you can’t always know what to say. This is for a good reason because at a young age we are so naive and naturally limited to how the world works. So, the choices made for you will decide the type of person you are for the rest of your life.
     Someone's childhood affects their entire life, no matter how good or bad it was. It’s not only the events that happen in our lives that affect us, but the way we handle them. Each person is different so something that may have no effect on me may have a profound effect on someone else.
     I don’t believe that I had a hard childhood. I don't have the right to complain when people's lives are much worse than mine has ever been.    
     Living with all my life's experiences on my shoulders is impossible. Instead, I choose to store it in a backpack. Keeping them behind me is an easier way to live. As life goes on, the bag gets heavier and heavier pulling me down. But I must pick and choose what I unpack, throwing aside what isn’t necessary.


The Mountain
Raymond Hernandez 4/19

     Even though the day started out with sunshine and smiles it eventually changed by the hour. It was Lamont, Basato, Brian, and me and though we didn’t expect to climb West Rock we ended up spending all day on it.
      The story is kind of like the mountain itself. As we climbed up we experienced laughs and nice views but it began to go downhill fast. When we reached the peak of the mountain the whole day changed, the skies grew cloudy and rain began to pour. We started to go down the mountain, but it was from a different direction from where we started, so none of us were really familiar with where we were. Brian claimed he knew exactly where he was and that he hiked this mountain all the time. We put our trust into him, going up and down the mountain full of trees, mud, and rain, but after a while we all began to question him. He tried to assure us that he knew exactly where he was, but after a good 30 minutes had gone by we asked him again and we were definitely lost.
     We walked around for almost an hour when we recognized a building through the trees in the distance and it put smiles on all of our faces to finally get a chance to get out of there. We ran to the building and it ended up being Common Ground High School. Once we got there someone in authority guided us back to where we had started and after a long 20 minute we finally got back to the baseball field where we began and went our separate ways.    


​The Elusive Mysteries of Life
Benie N'sumbu 12/18
​
     The bed cries as I twist once again; my body is craving the cool touch of the other side of the sheets. My eyes burst open, but my vision is blurry because of the absence of light. When they adjust to the darkness, I reach over for my phone and see that it is 2:17 AM. This is the third night in a row that I have woken up so early in the morning. Usually it’s because I’m so concerned about school that even in my sleep my brain is overworking itself to the point where it can’t keep me asleep and worry about college at the same time. Its multitasking abilities are deteriorating. But tonight I am not overstimulated by anxiety over school. In fact, I am rather relaxed. For once, there is no weariness pulling down my eyelids. The longer I stay awake, the more my mind begins to drift into the abyss of random late-night musings.
     I do not believe that there are monsters who hide under children’s beds, but I do like the idea that when the last porch light turns off and there is no sound but the gentle hum of cars on the highways, nocturnal organisms come out to experience the world without the disturbance of human interference. This idea gives me some comfort on nights like this when it feels like I am the only person awake in the world, because it reminds that there is more to our world than we are exposed to on a daily basis.
    I am not religious by any means, but I’ve always been a little envious of theistic people because they have the comfort of knowing that even when they pass, there will be something or someone waiting for them in the afterlife. Unfortunately for me, when I was born, my brain formed in such a way that the regions that dictate religious faith will not allow me to dismiss the rationalizations continuously provided by my frontal lobe. It might be possible for me to maintain rational thought and still hold a religious belief if I wanted to, but that dichotomy is too overwhelming. At this time it is not possible for me to believe in a mystic being or afterlife and also claim to be a woman of science and reasoning.
    But I do want the reassurance that everything will be okay after I die. Lack of security, lack of faith in an afterlife terrifies me so much that I can’t think about my own death without raising my blood pressure. So when I am alone at night I like to imagine that there are living creatures coming out of the cracks and crevices they’ve been hiding in all day. It temporarily reassures me that there is more to life than the everyday mundane dealings that keep me occupied until bedtime. It lets me know that even when I am gone, the world continues on living. Sadly for me, that doesn’t really give me the answers I am looking for about the possibility of an afterlife and I am slowly coming to terms with this. Someone once told me that an ignorant person claims to know everything and an intelligent person acknowledges that they do not know everything; part of my intellectual growth is accepting the fact that I will not always have answers to my questions and mysterious things like an afterlife will most likely remain elusive for the remainder of my lifetime.
    As my eyes finally close, a car drives by outside and a dog barks as if the universe is letting me know that it’s okay to sleep; the world isn’t going anywhere anytime soon. 


​Letter from my future self
Jai’Dyn Johnson 10/18

Dear Jai’Dyn,
​
     Always remain humble and never forget where you come from. People may try to drag you through the dirt, but you can’t let them. They also will say and do things to hurt you, but always stay ten toes down.
     You’re beautiful and smart; stop telling yourself you’re not. Your worth a lot more than you think. You may not know it now, but you will soon learn it.
     Just use your brain because sometimes you think before you speak and you say and do things you don’t mean.
     Also, it’s okay to let certain friendships go because some people are toxic. And all you need is good vibes and positivity.
     Jai’Dyn don’t let yourself go. Keep pushing so you can graduate and catch up with me. You don’t know what your future holds but I do J.

Sincerely,
​Future you


Branching Out

     The thing about family is you don’t get to choose which one you belong to, but you get this feeling of love, warmth, and joy from it. Almost like that feeling you get when you smell grandma’s freshly made apple pie, or the feeling you get when you are sick and mom makes you some chicken noodle soup. 
     Although we may not resemble each other, we’re Family...we’re a whole. I love my family like a toddler loves its brand new, flaming red toy race car. 
     I know where I came from, a family of love and hope. I also know where I want to go. A place where my family is included and the path is clear ahead of me. A path with a family where I hear love within the silence. Because with “Family,” you build of a series of emotions.
     I’m one of many in my family. I’m the one who calls the shots, the one who sits and grows branches on a broken tree.


​

Starry Night
Mei Ling Spears

Blue eyes shine in moonlight,
In the starry black backdrop.

What do you see,
When you look at the stars?

I see you look at the stars in the sky,
With longing in your eyes.

With wonder and hope,
You want something more than this.



​World
Mei Ling Spears

Vision of light and colors
Religion and silenced lies.
Never forgiven because
They don’t understand.
You hurt others so much
Yet you’re hurting inside too.


Pain Is a Joke To You
Mei Ling Spears
​
Vision of destruction,
Religion is foolish to you.
People never forgive you,
But I do.

Waking up alone,
Rushing to your safe place,
Just to feel something.

Dripping blood,
Is spilling,
Running all around you.

Rips and tears in your mind,
yet you’ve still got a special place in my heart.
​

​Seeing Through Transparency
Piper Zschack

A glass rests on the table.
Half full or half empty?
I have never been able
to answer that question.
It seems to be an impossible task,
one that requires me to ask
was water poured in?
Or did it pour out?
That’s what the question should be about.

When water’s poured in, dropped from the clouds,
it builds an ocean; flooring me.
And yet it still shrouds
the answer that begs imploringly
to be seen.
Does this mean the glass is half full?
Or is there more that we can glean?

What of when the glass starts full?
Till water spills
like a leaking ship’s hull
and trickles away until the scene stills
There’s more to the glass than transparency can see.
Does this mean the glass is half empty?
I think I know what the answer could be.

A glass rests on the table.
Half full or half empty?
I now know that it’s neither.
It’s a modus vivendi.
And I’m a believer
that you can’t see the glass for what it is
until you’ve seen where it’s been.
​

the wind
Hajar El Bouamri 10/18     

the wind is a graceful element of air
brushing your hair against your eyes
not being able to see for a while
realizing how it can affect you at that very moment
the rose petals and autumn leaves follow it’s unforgettable path
opening your eyes just to make sure it wasn’t a dream
because the wind is powerful, the wind is free
the wind is me

Age, Formative
Ken’nyah Cooper 5/19

Sixteen
When I was sixteen I had a hotel party. When I was sixteen I gave attitude. When I was sixteen I started failing classes. When I was sixteen I brought my grades up. When I was sixteen I took my anger out in a journal. When I was sixteen I talked back to my teachers. When I was sixteen I was a homebody. When I was sixteen I got my nails done. When I was sixteen I took care of my siblings when my mom couldn’t. When I was sixteen I didn’t have my phone. When I was sixteen I had a maid. When I was sixteen I dated a girl. When I was sixteen I got my own Netflix. When I was sixteen I made my own money. When I was sixteen my father had his grave stone.

Fifteen
When I was fifteen I was disrespectful. When I was fifteen I gave attitude. When I was fifteen I did all my work. When I was fifteen I was in so much drama. When I was fifteen I gave up in some of my classes. When I was fifteen I had a boyfriend. When I was fifteen I moved to a new house. When I was fifteen I let a lot of things slide. When I was fifteen I lost my virginity. When I was fifteen I dated a girl. When I was fifteen my friends were bad influences. When I was fifteen I chose the crew I’m sticking with for the rest of high school. When I was fifteen I gave great advice to my friends and family. When I was fifteen I broke my arm on Halloween. When I was fifteen I had a sleepover. When I was fifteen I wrote all my problems in a journal. When I was fifteen my father was shot.

Fourteen
When I was fourteen I had my first F. When I was fourteen I gave my friends money. When I was fourteen I didn’t fit into any group of friends. When I was fourteen I had a lot of fights. When I was fourteen I fought a boy for the first time. When I was fourteen I became a bully. When I was fourteen I got bullied. When I was fourteen I didn’t care about anybody’s feelings, not even mine. When I was fourteen I started failing my classes. When I was fourteen I gave my mom great report cards. When I was fourteen I ran away. When I was fourteen I told my mom I didn’t like them teachers. When I was fourteen I brought gifts for the teachers I liked. When I was fourteen I wrote all my problems in my journal.

Thirteen
When I was thirteen I had all A’s. When I was thirteen I was an angel. When I was thirteen I had new clothes every day. When I was thirteen I was bouji. When I was thirteen I did everything my mother asked me to. When I was thirteen I shared a room. When I was thirteen I told my mom I love her. When I was thirteen I was able to go places without my mom. When I was thirteen I stayed the night at my father's house. When I was thirteen I gave my all in school and home. When I was thirteen I caught the city bus for the first time. When I was thirteen I cheated on a test. When I was thirteen I made money.
​
Twelve
When I was twelve I got in so much trouble. When I was twelve I had a boyfriend. When I was twelve I had social media. When I was twelve I realized I had anger issues. When I was twelve I told the truth about things. When I was twelve my family and I went to Disney World. When I was twelve I got everything I wanted. When I was twelve I read in front of the whole school. When I was twelve I was a Girl Scout. When I was twelve I wore ripped jeans. When I was twelve I told people I had a tongue piercing. When I twelve I was bullied. When I was twelve I was kinda a peacemaker. When I was twelve I stuck up for people who couldn’t do it for themselves. When I was twelve I went to church every Sunday.

Eleven
When I was eleven I went to Florida. When I was eleven my grandmother’s house caught on fire. When I was eleven my mom got married (I think). When I was eleven I started writing in my journals. When I was eleven I had a few friends. When I was eleven people used me for my money and food. When I was eleven I cussed out my teacher for lying. When I was eleven my mom had to sit in the back of my class. When I was eleven I had no choice but to keep my hair done. When I was eleven I had a lot of hair. When I was eleven I got in big trouble for cutting my hair.

Ten
When I was ten my cousin and I had a birthday party together. When I was ten my cousin and I grew up matching. When I was ten my mom bought me and my sisters matching everything. When I was ten I tried to rap. When I was ten I went to Florida. When I was ten I gave some toys away. When I was ten I fed the homeless. When I was ten I shared all my stuff. When I was ten I rode a bike. When I was ten I almost got hit by a car. When I was ten I loved to read. When I was ten I was/wasn’t shy. When I was ten I took a toy out of the store. When I was ten I handwrote my mom Mother’s Day card.

Nine
When I was nine I learned how to fight. When I was nine my mom went on a trip and I had to stay with my aunt. When I was nine I told people they were ugly. When I was nine I got bullied. When I was nine people didn’t like me. When I was nine my mouth was reckless. When I was nine I didn’t care what others thought of me. When I was nine I had a slide phone. When I was nine I loved hills. When I was nine I played dress up all the time. When I was nine I didn’t like going outside. When I was nine I shared my birthday. When I was nine I used to hit people for no reason. When I was nine I would write on the wall when I was bored. When I was nine I loved taking pictures.

Eight
When I was eight I loved to write. When I was eight I had honor roll. When I was eight I handed everybody good vibes. When I was eight I wasn’t worried about anybody else. I was worried about my grades. When I was eight I got to help out my teacher. When I was eight I gave my teacher positive energy. When I was eight my mom didn’t care if I got a C, I got pushed harder. When I was eight my friends were pulling me off track. When I was eight I had the best life. When I was eight I got everything I wanted. When I was eight I got paid for my grades.

Seven

When I was seven my grades were awesome. When I was seven my mom told me that I was an active baby. When I was seven I was really innocent. When I was seven my cousin gave me $50. When I was seven I pushed my older sister down the stairs. When I was seven I loved pictures. When I was seven I told my mom I wanted to be a model. When I was seven I read to my little sister. When I was seven people didn’t like me for me. When I was seven I would sometimes cry in the dark. When I was seven I had a lot of money. When I was seven my mom wouldn’t let me go anywhere. When I was seven my parents were overprotective. When I was seven I had a flip phone.

Six
When I was six I was CUTE! When I was six there were lots of fights near my house. When I was six I witnessed my mom “brother” get shot. When I was six I had a fetish for pencils. When I was six I carried purses everywhere. When I was six I used to say I had superpowers. When I was six I loved the haters. When I was six I didn’t like apple juice. When I was six I never ate collard greens. When I was six people would say I was dramatic. When I was six I went to Six Flags. When I was six I hated the museums. When I was six I wanted to help cook. When I was six I loved finger paint.

Five
When I was five I loved to write. When I was five I loved to draw. When I was five people used to say I was cute. When I was five I was really smart. When I was five my grandmother used to come get me every day. When I was five I was spoiled by my grandfather. When I was five my mom gave me whatever I wanted. When I was five I went to church every day. When I was five I read aloud. When I was five I was a brat. When I was five I would scream if I saw a spider. When I was five I hated any bug that crawled. When I was five I used to eat with my mouth open. When I was five I graduated from kindergarten.

Four
When I was four I didn’t have responsibilities. When I was four I loved to color. When I was four my friends’ moms used to bring in gifts for everybody. When I was four I had a Pit Bull. When I was four I followed rules. When I was four I wrote my name over and over. When I was four I shared all my stuff. When I was four I swam in the pool. When I was four I put my toys in the tub with me. When I was four I was told I lit up the room when I smiled. When I was four I was around all good influences. When I was four I lived with my grandma. When I was four I had my own room.

Three
When I was three I was innocent. When I was three I didn’t like when people picked me up. When I was three I was fussing. When I was three I was a mean baby. When I was three my little sister was born. When I was three I ran around the house. When I was three I always made messes. When I was three I watched tv a lot. When I was three I was chubby. When I was three I didn't like wearing clothes. When I was three my mom would sit me on the table in front of her. When I was three I would kick my shoes off. When I was three my sister was eight. When I was three I would walk around with a broom.

Two
When I was two I was half talking. When I was two I gave my mom a throw up bath. When I was two my sister would hold me. When I was two my sister and I would match all the time. When I was two I held my own ice-cream cone. When I was two my grandma would beg my mom for me to stay at her house. When I was two my father went to jail. When I was two I had to share a room. When I was two I was walking. When I was two I hated applesauce. When I was two I was so mean.

One
When I was one I was walking. When I was one my stepfather said I didn’t like him. When I was one my father was around. When I was one I made big messes around the house. When I was one I gave my sister kisses. When I was one I didn’t like car seats. When I was one I had a fish. When I was one I had a dog. When I was one I didn’t like cats. When I was one my sister and I were matching every day. When I was one my first words was “ma ma.” When I was one I called my sister Miya. When I was one I had bracelets.

​Art to Her
Najae McCoy

Art
It is within Najae
Through her veins
Though her mind, it is what she knows best
When stressed with a lot on her chest,
She is a mess at rest wrapped in her second home
Art
Madness, a chaotic world
Where she stands, a creative girl, with her mind set on change
The mishappenings hurt her one by one
Her brush stroke is her light when there is no sun
A gun saddens her soul, so she holds onto her love for
Art
Her hands molding the terracotta clay
She’s got the world in her palms
And it’s spinning round’ on that wheel
Can’t knock her desire
Baby, it’s like steel
Missing her next meal due to the connection so real
Rumble. Growl. Tummy ache.
But she definitely could stomach it
Stuck perfecting the art she is one with
Being gripped by progression, being reminded of perfection by the second
And the crazy ideas she’s running with.
Insomnia when the environment is unjust
Though she is often shaken up she must
Let her mind release its thoughts
And time fly in its own way as she drifts into her own space
With patience and dedication,
She allows tragedy to spark her creation
But, not in every situation
Sometimes she reflects her own face on papers with no mirror facing
Because if you look at yourself enough, you remember your features
Looking at her skies for inspiration,
Just in case her love was something she ever lost faith in
Art
Her Reason, her love, passion, second home and first place
She ever found reassurance and comfort in the making
At ease, she can now sleep, no difficulty doing so, now no fatigue
Art
Her getaway, her inhale, exhale, her addiction, love at first sight,
At last, it is her peace.


​Letter to My Father
Jai’Dyn Johnson, Grade 12

     You not being here made a big impact on me but I didn’t let your absence negatively affect me. It hurt embracing the fact that you being there for me wasn’t going to happen. I cried on numerous occasions, not because I was sad, but because I had a gap that was empty. I’ve tried other ways to find closure, but nothing was anything like a father’s love. I don’t even know what that feels like. However, nature abhors a vacuum. And so I’ve had an urge to fill myself up since you chose not to. I have read and talked and watched and listened to people who understand what it means to be a fatherless daughter and I am more complete now. I did my Capstone presentation on this topic and brought myself and others to tears. Tears of knowing, of understanding, of pain, and of the triumph of the serenity prayer.
     I don’t know what the future holds but I know that I don’t want much to do with you--or anyone on your side of the family. I thought inviting you to my graduation was a step toward me being a better person, but you said no. Now I’ve just built a stronger hate towards you. You never were there for me, EVER! Not for kindergarten graduation, 8th grade graduation, or all four of my high school dances. I know prom and my high school graduation you will miss, but I prepared myself for that last year. So in conclusion, I don’t think I’ll ever forgive you.
     I wonder if, after all this, you can ever redeem yourself and be a man or a father to your children.​


Life the night before Halloween 2016
Kennyah Cooper 4/19

     So, it was a foggy night, dark but we had street lights and we had alleys. The alleys were dark and you never knew what was down them unless you had  a flashlight. I had a sleepover and my cousins, my friends, and my best friend stayed 3 nights in a row. We went outside the night before Halloween and my friend’s friend wanted to come over and I didn’t like her so I and my best friend ran to hide when she went in her house. As we were running we ran into an alley because, like I said before, it was dark. She would not have been able to see us. We started running faster and we got halfway to the end of the alley when I tripped over a brick and flew into the air. I landed on my arm and hand but I laughed it off. I knew it hurt but I was that “tough” girl and I never showed people the soft side of me. We went the rest of the night fine and I was still that “mean,” “tough” girl.
     The morning came and my arm was blue and purple, sore and I couldn’t move it. I was still not crying or saying ouch, but in my head I was  screaming and doing everything possible to not show my pain. I went into my mom’s room and showed her my arm and I cried in there. She was like, you can only have one person with you when we go to the ER. I kicked all my cousins and friends out and told my closest cousin she could come with me but I pulled her to the side when I told her. We arrived at the ER and they told me that my arm was fractured, not broken and it was badly bruised.
     We went home and I could see that I was a brave person. That I experienced very bad pain and I came back to new, maybe even a little stronger.

​Intuition
Arius Feliciano 4/19 

     It was a little family dinner at Golden Corral. We were all enjoying the food and each other's company. Me being a kid about 12 years old, I was especially enjoying the chocolate fountain. Once everyone was ready to go we all noticed that it was pouring outside; it was late so it was dark out too. We all acknowledged the rain and just hoped it wasn't going to be too difficult to drive.
     Once we were ready we all said goodbye and left. I was in the car with my mom, my little brother, and  my older brother. We started driving on the highway and the rain began putting me to sleep. I don't remember how long I was asleep, but when I woke up I had a really weird feeling, as if something bad was going to happen.
     I saw my little brother in his car seat but he wasn't strapped in. Usually I wouldn't care because he wasn’t too little but this time I decided to strap him up tightly.
     A couple minutes went by and out of nowhere I felt the car start to swerve.
My stomach stopped as I prepared for the worst. I quickly held my little brother back into his car seat with my right arm. I heard my mom screaming as the car was spinning and spinning on the highway. I looked at my older brother in the front seat who had a surprised expression on his face but didn’t seem terrified.
     Feeling the car spin out of control made me think it was going to start flipping soon, but I stayed calm, surprisingly. The car continued to turn and my mom continued to scream. Then the car finally stopped spinning and we came to a stop.
     We all just sat there in surprise, thankful that we were alive and not injured.

Illusion
Nadia S. Gaskins 3/19

Astray,
Wounded,
And petrified.

She fears the thought of getting better,
Even though she tells herself she is ready to look terror in the
Face.
She thinks she is bold enough to damn
Death for trying to claim her.
But yet, she forgets.

She forgets that she shuddered
when Loneliness’ hands locked themselves around her throat.
She forgets that she cowers at the mere mention of her trauma’s name.
She forgets that she used to welcome Death with open arms.
She forgets the contract she signed with every drop of her blood.
She forgets that she engraved her name in Death’s list with her blade.

Astray,
Wounded,
And dazed.

Built up tears
     F
     A
     L
     L
              F
           R
        E
            E
                L
            Y
As she breathes.
She dances in the gardens
Of her facade of being
Fearless.

Yet she forgets,
Fearlessness isn’t real.


​The days I got murdered
Nyla Kibler 3/19

Warning: This is the book of a girl that has gone wild in the days before her sister's wedding. Be very aware about what is going to happen...

Day 1: Wedding Ideas 

      “Anna, it has been 2 days since Ross put a ring on your hand.”
      “Mom, I know but I want to get a head start for the wedding and since it’s in the spring. I want to have  a spring wonderland wedding and I want a big wedding. 
      “But honey, isn’t it too soon to start even-- oh hang on. Someone is calling me. Hello, this is Michelle speaking. 
      “Hello, mother. It has been 25 years. Hey, I was wondering how long are you going to keep this lie from her. I mean sooner or later she is going to find out. No matter how many times you pay me to go away, I will always find you. By the way, I think the red roses and lilies are better together. I mean it shows how much bloodshed you did in order to get rid of me,” Michelle said.
      “Hey Miss Turner, someone ordered these flowers for you,” said the woman at the counter.
      “Thank you?” 
      “Oh mom!” said Anna. “Did daddy send them to you? 
      “No, daddy did not send these flowers to me because daddy knows that I don't like roses and lilies. Anna, let's go home and start planning the wedding. Okay, you know what? Can you get us some food while I call daddy about something?”
      Marie calls her husband. “Bill, Bill, it's her again. She found me and Anna! Wait, what do you mean she found you and Anna. It's been 25 year. The last time we saw her she was 3 years old. What else does she want from us unless she found out what happened years before?”
      ​“Honey,” Bill said. “That’s impossible. How could she know about it? The only way--shit! Holly must have told her. Holly has always been by her side since they were 3.”
      “Hey mom,” said Anna. “I got our food. Ready to eat?”
      “Yes, I will talk to you when we get home from the flower shop,” she said and hung up.

                                           (3 hours later) 

      “Honey, we're home. Where are you?” Michelle called out. “Anna, I'm going going upstairs to daddy. You try to call our wedding planner on the phone.”
      “Okay!”
      "Bill, Bill! What are we--Wait. Let's close the door. While they thought they closed the door, Anna was listening to the whole thing.
      “Anna cannot know about her sister,” Michelle said to Bill. “She cannot know about Magan’s first death as a baby and how the doctor found her a day later still “alive.” And let's not forget her powers.”
      “Honey, you’re right. We need to figure out what do with Magan.
      ​Anna was trying to figure out what do.

​
The Hammer of History
Nadia S. Gaskins 3/19

Black. History. 
I’ll say it again. 
BLACK. History. 
Dragged through the sludge of concealment.  
Sewn together with the needle of ignorance, 
And the threads of oblivion. 
Shoved down the throats of the oppressed. 
Locked away six feet
         Under 
In the casket of abandonment. 
This can’t be known, never tell.

White. History. 
I’ll say it again.
WHITE. History. 
Lifted over the achievements of the “minorities.” 
Paraded through the gardens of glory,
And down the streets of justification. 
Locked away in the glass case of eternity. 

Theft twisted into worshipped achievements. 
Labor left as it was…
“For the savages.” 
Truth cast into the pits of forgetfulness. 
Inventions stamped with the names of robber barons.

Dreams crushed under racism’s hammer. 
Do you dare challenge my views? 
How about you stand on the other side of History’s mirror and answer me this one question: 
Am I wrong?

​Alone
Ny-Airra Houston 3/19

     The past few days were nothing but confusing and weird but I’m here sitting in the foster home the social worker’s placed me in.
      They’re nice people but I wish I had my own room to do the things I need to do and for the girl I share a room with to mind her business. She's always asking me “why are you here?”, “what happened in my life?”, “why I became so quiet?”, “why I don’t talk to her or anyone else?” I be wanting to scream at her but I can’t, I just can’t. It wouldn't be right even though she was bugging me with these damn questions I CLEARLY DON’T WANT TO TALK ABOUT. My social worker came and asked me how I was holding up. I told her what's been going on and how I was doing. She mentioned therapy and I was kind of scared to say yes because I know I need it but then again I don't want to talk to a stranger about my problems. I just said yes to it so she could go away. She told me I start next Tuesday.

      The days went by quick. Today is the day I go to therapy. I don't know how I feel about it. Ever since what happened I’ve had no emotion, but today, the day I start therapy, I feel nervous, nervous to talk to a stranger about what happened, nervous to say why I became so distant, so quiet. I walked into the office and signed in and they took me to where I would be meeting my therapist. I waited about 5 minutes, then BOOM, she came in. My heart was pounding like crazy. I tried to calm down but you could see it in my face, you could see that I was shaking in my chair . She introduced herself , her name was Lola , Lola Peterson . I tried to introduce myself but nothing came out. She found that weird I guess because she was looking at me strange and I knew why .
     She told me, “that it's okay to speak and that I need to calm down.”
     I took her advice and calmed myself down. I got up, told her my name was “Kia , Kia Brown,” and shook her hand.
     The first session went by quick; I kind of opened up to her. I told her my parents had died and she asked how. I told her that was for another day.
My foster parents came to pick me up and let me remind you I never spoke to them until today. It felt like something changed inside me that felt good.
      They asked me, “how was your first session?”
      “It went good,” I said.
      They asked, “Did you open up a little?”
      I said, “Yes , yes I did.”

     We arrived at our house, 22 Fourth Main Street. It was quiet , very quiet. I didn't like it. “Was it always this quiet? I asked myself. It set off a weird vibe. I got out the car and took a look around. That's when I saw something , something weird , something tall. It was a man standing at the corner of my block looking at me. I stood there, quiet--not scared, just quiet. That's when my foster parents asked me “what was I looking at?”
     I turned to them and said nothing. I looked back , then boom. He was gone , gone in a flash. I walked into the house and went straight to my room without saying anything to anybody. I sat down on my bed and started thinking , thinking hard. I wasn't scared of the bad thoughts I was thinking; that's normal for me, to be honest with you. I wasn’t scared at all.  
     I kept asking myself “who was that strange man?” over and over again. I dozed off and woke up from a nightmare that didn't scare me but it hit my heart like a bullet. I sat up, rewinding what had happened in my dream. My dream was about a man doing a home invasion on my foster parents’ house, killing everybody but me, once again.
     It felt weird because the first time it happened , it happened in real life. It happened to people I loved dearly. It broke me, but that's another story for another time.

​

Creative Writers Perform at Annual Metamorphosis Showcase

The Sun is Me
Malyiah Mullings 3/19

The sun is a graceful feeling in the air.
Shining against your skin. Burning you.
Not being able to hide from it.
Realizing how it can affect you at that very moment.
The sun follows you as you travel in its unforgettable path.
Opening your eyes to make sure it’s still bright and yellow
because the sun is hot, the sun is shining, the sun is me.


The Beauty of Destruction
Eliza Vargas 3/19

There is beauty in the destruction
In mine
Yours
And life

The beauty of the pain that has been passed down 
Generation after generation
The smiles that have been paused at one specific moment in time and kept on repeat for years to come
The pain that has stayed for years and will continue on forevermore 

The beauty of the hurt is that it doesn’t hurt more than the memory 
It sticks to your mind like industrial glue
Haunting you for each year and trigger to come

And the beauty of destruction 
The oh so beautiful beauty in the burning embers after the flames have settled and the smoke has cleared 
The beauty in my face as the tears drop and the eyes shimmer in the light

There is beauty in the destruction
In mine
Yours
And life

​
​Goodbye letter to you…
Jaidyn Johnson

Something tells me that you still love me.
But also a side of me tells me you don’t care.

You need to understand
that you can’t keep coming in and out of my life
when it’s convenient for you.

I get into the process of moving on
and you keep coming back.
It’s like you see me happy and bettering myself
and you feel like you can get in on that.

You call me and think we’re okay and you’re wrong.
I know I sound like I don’t want to talk
and that’s exactly what it is.
I loved you but leave me alone.


​The World According to Liz
Elizabeth Condall

Things that make me excited
     Things that make me excited are… getting a new room whenever I move and I move every 5 years or so; it’s not enough that it’s bothersome or causes an inconvenience, but enough that I get super excited when I get a new room. This is timely because I moved last Friday and I’m thinking about how I want my room set up. I love when my mom tells me that I get to pick a new color for my room. I love trying to arrange my room to my liking. Sometimes I get to take up carpet or put some down. It’s really the best thing ever. Since I’m moving to a different state, it’ll be a very different feeling, but I think I’ll still be as excited.
     It’s a good thing.
     Something that makes me excited is…getting new shoes. I’m still 5 at heart and when I get new shoes I get so hyped. I always casually get new shirts or pants because when I’m out with my mom running errands we usually see cute items in clearance and she buys them for me. But it’s completely different when I get shoes. It’s usually planned and budgeted in by my mother and it’s on a specific day. I get to go home and fantasize what I’m going to wear with the shoes and when.
     It’s my peace.
     Something that makes me excited is…drinking a Mcdonald's Sprite. Now I know that seems weird, but I call them “Spicy Sprites.” They’re different from a regular Sprite that you’d get in a store; they’re strong. When I drink them it’s like I’m drinking a shot at a club or something. Everytime I go to Mcdonald’s I get a 4-piece sweet Barbecue Tender Meal with a medium fry and a large Sprite. The best part of the meal is when I eat all my food and have a sip of the Sprite. Boy, it’s so good.
     It’s the best drink.
     Something that makes me excited is…jumping on a trampoline. I’ve never had a trampoline; my mom has never gotten me one because she doesn’t like them. I very rarely get to go to a friend’s house with a trampoline or go to a place like Sky Zone, but when I do I literally never want to leave. I always want to stay way after everyone wants to go. Even though my legs are actual noodles when I get off the trampoline, I still want to go back and experience more.
     It’s so fun.
     I have so many things that make me excited, but these are just a few.  

​
Things that disgust me
November 16, 2018

     Something that disgusts me is…people who litter. People who just throw things on the ground are so dirty. It really annoys me more when I see people throw trash on the ground in New Haven because there are trash cans on every corner. On every block there's a trash can; so there should be no reason not to wait to throw something out.
     It's disgusting.
     Something that disgusts me is…parents who show favoritism. I truly can’t stand when parents think it’s okay to give one child more and give another child less. I can't speak from personal experience because it hasn't happened to me, but I have friends that have to deal with their parents taking better care of one child for insignificant reasons.
     It's dumb.
     Something that disgusts me is…people who abuse pets or animals in general. It really makes me sad to see people who have dogs keep them in cages all the time or on leashes outside. I don't think there's a point in having a pet if you're not going to take of them. Bring them to an animal shelter or find someone to take care of them, but don't mistreat them; animals hurt and feel pain just like humans.
     It's horrible.
     Something that disgusts me is…people who bully other people. This is something that is talked about all the time and has been talked about for years as people are continuously trying to shine a light on the problem, but I wholeheartedly can't stand bullying. People only bully other people they know won't defend themselves and I think that's what bothers me the most. To consciously know that a person won't respond to the punches or the hateful words being spewed at them shows who the bully is as a person.
     It's cowardly.
     Something that disgusts me is…people who always make white and black jokes. They're not funny; there I said it. When people say things like ¨that’s only white people...¨ or ¨white people only...¨ it’s annoying. People really say things like ¨black people do this...¨ and expect laughs. It makes my entire body wince and cringe. They only push stereotypes.
     It's not funny.

​---------------------------------
Things that make me happy
By Elizabeth Condall

     Something that makes me happy is...people who are unapologetically free and happy. It’s really a beautiful sight to see someone who lives for their own self and doesn’t let anyone ruin what’s going on for them. It’s something that I admire because I’m always limiting myself because I’m afraid. A lot of things scare me. To see someone doing something that I want to do is really wonderful.
     It’s beautiful.
     Something that makes me happy is…people who have the same music taste as me. I would say that music is a huge part of my life because there’s not a day that I don’t listen to music. It makes me feel whole, as corny as that sounds. Music really emphasizes feelings I feel. I really don’t understand how certain people don’t listen to music. It’s crazy. So when I find someone who appreciates the same music as me, it’s the purest thing to me. My music isn’t even in English half the time; sometimes I listen to Japanese, Spanish, Taiwanese, Polish, Korean, and all kinds of different bops.
     It’s pure.
     Something that makes me happy is…getting new school supplies for a new school year. There’s something about getting brand new pencils and brand new notebooks that excites me. It’s the most satisfying feeling to start writing in a new notebook with a new pen or pencil. I love getting new folders and writing what subject they are going to be for. Going to school isn’t even as fun as going to get those brand new school supplies.
     It’ satisfying.
     Something that makes me happy is…laughing. Laughing has to be the best thing on Earth. I couldn't imagine going throughout life not laughing. I love it; it's such a good feeling. An even better feeling is laughing with good people and spending quality time with those people. The number one person who makes me laugh is my best friend, Chelsey. When we're together, laughter is something that comes with ease. We have a different sense of humor so to me she’s the funniest person I’ve met in my life. As cliche as this is, everyone should live and laugh.
     It’s exhilarating.
     Something that makes me happy is…doing my homework at my desk. I discovered a week ago that it’s really soothing and a lot more comfortable than sitting on my bed to do my work. It’s common sense that you’d sit at a desk to do work, but I just never thought about it like that.  
     It´s new.


Things that bother me
By Elizabeth Condall

Something that makes me is nervous is…people who stand up and walk around me or by me. Especially if I'm sitting down, it scares me. I don't know if that person is going to kidnap me, mug me, anything really. It might be a little irrational; I even ask family members or friends to sit down because it makes me nervous.
      It's scary.
     Something that scares me is… water. Water actually terrifies me. Even showering is trying for me. I don't know what it is about water, but it frightens me. When I'm in a pool I get scared that a shark is underneath me. I can´t see underneath me and that just makes me feel some type of way. I love being clean, but when I shower I flinch when the water touches me. I don´t like the feeling on my skin and I hate being wet. Combine the both of those and I just hate water altogether.
     Something that makes me nervous…having to talk to new people. I'm a very social person and I don't mind speaking to other people. Meeting new people is something that I enjoy, but the initial contact I dread. It's always awkward and weird trying to navigate where the conversation is going or where the conversation is supposed to be.
     It´s weird.
     Something that scares me is… the possibility that I won´t accomplish anything in life, that I'll be in the same place, doing the same thing when I'm older. I want to travel and see things and really live my life to my best ability. I don't want to disappoint my mom and my family. I want to be successful and do my best.
     It's worrisome.
     Something that makes me nervous…is going to the beach. For most people, it's really calming, but I feel like I can´t breathe. It's almost suffocating being at the beach. Maybe it's not even being nervous, but I've never liked the beach anyway. I've always felt like the sand is going to cave into the ground. The beach is too much for me anyway; the water is scary, there are too many people, and overall I just never end up having a good time.
     It´s bothersome.
     These are some of the weird things about me--all of my weird fears and anxieties that don't necessarily make sense.

​