Month: August 2018

As a literary student at the Mississippi School of the Arts, we all have one thing in common: a love for writing. Writing is our passion. It is our rellief from daily stress, and an entry into a brand new world with a new state of mind.

But where do we start? For me, my love of writing came from my hunger for more episodes in a show, or more levels in a game. when youve seen all you can see, but still havent had enough, you turn to the depths of the internet for more content. You look for…

Fanfiction.

 

Fanfiction is essentially your take on something. You do not own the characters, and you so not say you do. when writing fanfiction, you’re just putting someone elses’ characters in a situation that the origional person did not.

While I’ve read some amazing fanfiction, I’ve also read some pretty atrocious ones as well. The horrible ones are the most inspiring for me. Just the fact that I live in a time where I can read a crossover between Lazytown and Shrek is… questionable, but cool.

The first time I wrote a fanfiction was in 6th grade. This was about the time that the new happy meal boxes were becoming a meme. I had this genius idea to write a Romeo and Juliet style tragedy. It would be a self insert for whoever read it, and they would be the Juliet to our Romeo…. Ronald Mcdonald.

And so, the story “Smile! Ronald Mcdonald x reader” came to be.

It was meant to be a joke, just something funny to share with my couple of friends. Little did I know that story would blow up on the internet. I left it alone on the fanfiction site Wattpad, practically abandoning it for years. I did not know of the monster I had created.

This past year, though, I decided to revisit it, just to read it for a laugh. I re-downloaded the app, and then my phone crashed. 6,000 notifications. If that wasn’t enough, there was a petition created for me to write a second one. The audience felt as though Ronald, and, I quote, “smile-zoned” them. I felt both honored and horrified at the fact that at least 6000 people looked this up, and then wanted even more.

Needless to say, I feel much pressure to write the sequel. Who would have known that my 6th grade shenanigans would have led to this? Will keep you guys updated on the fanfiction.

(This is a continuation of my last post, so if you want any of this to make sense, you might want to read that first.)

As I have previously stated, I never really had a lot of friends growing up. I had some “acquaintances,” but looking back now, none of them were ever really my “friend” per se. I had one friend in second grade, but she moved away midway through the year, and it’s been a long time since I last had the chance to talk to her.

I wonder what she’s doing these days?

But that’s beside the point. I never really found my friends until around… ninth grade, I would say. I finally started to find a group of people like me: they had been ostracized by the rest of our grade, and they didn’t really have a lot of friends. That was when I finally found my good friends.

I’m going to make up names for them, so that they won’t be just known by everyone who reads this. There were Samantha, Gavin, Lorin, and Ray.

Samantha was my best friend. We had been friends since sixth grade, and through time, our friendship grew stronger. I had defended her multiple times when people bullied her, and she did the same for me. We had each others backs, no matter the circumstance.

Gavin was a pretty good friend; we started hanging out when he started dating Samantha. They broke up after a little while, but they stayed good friends. Gavin was kind of a know-it-all at times, but I didn’t have any problems with him. He was fun to be around, and he provided a lot of interesting discussions to our lunch table.

Lorin. The only reason I hung out with him was because he was friends with Gavin, and I don’t think Gavin had it in him to just throw him out of the group. If I had gotten a say? I would have left him in the dust in a heartbeat. He was hardly ever nice to me. The only reason we were ever “friendly” was because we both liked Star Wars and the Harry Potter series. Other than that, we tolerated each other, at best.

Ray was my other best friend; he actually also transferred to MSA, and he’s been a really good friend to me. We’ve both struggled with a lot of the same issues, both externally and internally. We have the same sense of strange humor, and I can usually count on him to make me laugh if I need to. I’ve only known him for four years, but the bond we’ve managed to grow is stronger than most of my other friendships.

Honestly? I was sad when I had to say goodbye to Samantha and Gavin. It was a hard thing to adjust myself to, and I’m still adjusting to it. We used to be around each other every single day, and now I hardly ever see them. But honestly? I think that with time, we’ll be back in our same group as before.

At least, I hope so, because I miss them. Every day.

I dyed my hair. I know I know, it’s the third week , what was I thinking? I wasn’t. That’s the answer. You’d think being the anxious person I am I’d be freaking out about this, which I guess I am, but a LOT less than I thought I would. Quite frankly, I’m calm about it. Don’t really care. Now my mom finding out, kinda makes me nervous. Hey mom, if you’re reading this! Yes, I dyed my hair pink! I love you! See you soon!  New year, new school, new hair, new me. Well, hopefully not a completely new me.

I’m trying so hard to hold on to aspects of my old life. I keep seeing photos from people at my old school, and it feels like I’m just away for the week. Like maybe I’m having a sick day, or I’m at a summer camp. It’s super surreal not being there. Not a bad surreal, but for sure surreal. I can’t tell if this thought process is by my own doing, or if my mind is doing all of this autonomously.

I can tell though, that I’m changing as a human being. For better or for worse I can’t tell yet, I’ll update you at the end of this school year, but it’s happening. Maybe that’s why I decided to bleach and dye my hair on a Sunday before school, to show outwardly that I’m no longer the exact same girl that went to Oxford High School.

Now that I’m thinking about it, I’m terrified of showing this new me to Oxford. Not because they will see this completely, brand new model of myself, but rather that these two sides of me will be one? I can no longer morph between two different people like Jekyll and Hyde when I’m in the two cities. Outwardly, I’m different. Before, I could go back to Oxford, and act as I used to there, and then come back to MSA and pick up my personality I use here.

These thoughts seem silly I realize, all of it being sparked by me making a impulsive decision, but it’s something to think about.

I’ve realized that I do weird things to keep these lives separate, and I’m not sure why. Just yesterday I couldn’t even use Pages, because it was something that we used at Oxford, not MSA. Microsoft Word is an MSA thing to only be used here, and Pages is to be used in Oxford. I know how to use both well, it’s just I think the two should be separate. Maybe my goal for this year should be to morph the two worlds together. Both have been and will be important in my development as a person, so why should they stay separate? Or maybe they should. We’ll see.

It’s weird how different people view us different ways. It’s also weird how first impressions, can be so different from the person we are judging. I wish I could compile a book of people’s first impressions of me versus how they see me now. That would be interesting.

Will my hair change people’s first impression of me? Will this new color completely dictate how I’m viewed? Will I have a completely different life because I made the decision to alter my appearance? Probably not, but hey, the butterfly affect is real thing. Maybe this hair color change is one little pebble in a grander scheme of things.

It doesn’t matter anyways. This hair color is temporary. Hair re-grows. It changes. Within a year’s time I will be different, but still connected from the cotton-candy me I am now.

 

I watch your face mold into someone unrecognizable.

You have barely lived two decades,

yet I can see the wrinkles carved into your skin.

You are decomposing.

I can see the decaying heart lying limply in your chest.

Why are you letting yourself die?

You are allowing abusive words to riddle your ears.

Allowing dull daggers to pierce your heart until it has no will to beat.

You say you take life one day at a time;

some days are good and some are bad.

But we both know you don’t keep score.

Your clothes used to be tight.

Your lips used to hold a smile.

And had skin so smooth that words simply rolled off you.

Now you no longer live for yourself.

You live for the satisfaction of a man who does not cherish you;

one who does not love or embrace your unique qualities.

He ripped them from your mind and smashed them under his feet,

and left you an empty shell to live in.

No more thoughts for yourself,

no more nights of rest,

or a life full of love.

You are now a caged animal,

and there is no room on the streets for you.

Your mind is a danger to him,

for you may realize he doesn’t deserve you.

So you must stay locked away,

where the word ‘no’ does not exist,

and permission is an illusion.

Where opinions can only mirror his.

There is only one key to this cage,

and you have it.

So why will you not free yourself?

Do you not know that you have been trapped?

Or has your unconditional love blinded you from the truth?

Tell me,

Do you enjoy your prison?

Or do you imagine it is not there?

One day, perhaps, you will realize your value.

I hope that you do.

I hope that you escape.

Because I no longer recognize you.

 

 

I often think about when I was younger and wanted to stay a child forever. I’d always look at my grandmother with bright, hopeful eyes and say, “Drann, I’m never going to grow up!” And she would laugh, entertaining the foolish words that came out of my mouth and replied, “You’ll have to eventually, baby girl, but you can stay Peter Pan for now.” I wish I’d just shut up and grown up like the other kids. 

If my future children ever ask me if they, too, can be Peter Pan, I’ll simply tell them no because being Peter Pan is hell, no matter how good a façade he puts on. The childish ways became tiring after years had passed and I no longer wanted to play. Instead, I made up excuses of why I couldn’t hang out with my very own lost boys anymore.

“My mom says I can’t go out today. Neverland isn’t safe for me anymore,” I’d say. They would only cackle and, one by one, pull at my limbs, dragging me back to Neverland, tying it around my ankles. I would always yell at them, telling them to stop. I tried to run but everywhere I went, Neverland went too. I continuously watched my peers blossom and bloom, growing up as a child should eventually do.

However, I had to continuously fight for my growth. Though I finally began to grow up and leave my childish ways in the past, the lost boys continuously came back to remind me where I originated from. They’d hold me captive. I could never tell how long. One day, I guess they got tired of me fighting because they brought along another old friend of mine. Tinkerbell only stared at me with such intensity, gaze tearing into my flesh. Then, she would shoot betrayal in my eyes and I was constantly blind. That’s when my reality became frustrating. I became a mess because I desperately wanted to see. I wanted to understand what everyone else was going through. I wanted to break the hold. Every time I regained my vision, Tinkerbell would make sure that I was to be blinded again. With each time, came more intensity. 

She knew what it did to me internally. She knew the desperation I felt to finally be like the rest of my peers, but she continued to isolate me from them. She continued to build onto my fear. She and the lost boys would sit in wait for me after awhile, forcing me to come back.

I begged them to please let me go. “It’s my time. I have to go.”

They couldn’t hear me, though. Their ears were clogged with fairy dust that deafened them because they only chose to hear what they wanted. I couldn’t leave until I let them have their fun and, again, I would return to reality only to feel stupidity rush over me. I would shake vigorously, trying to shake the shame away. 

Don’t get me wrong, Peter Pan is growing up now. Every now and then, though, Tinkerbell will sneak in my room, blinding and deafening me with her fairy dust again and I’ll recover, shaking. But even still, Peter Pan is escaping Neverland.

 

I have made a decision. I am going to lose weight. I have reach the maximum capacity my psych deems tolerable, and it is time I take a step back and consider my routines and habits because I cannot handle this. I understand that some of you will look at me and tell me that I don’t need to lose weight, but you don’t understand how much this is messing with my head. If I don’t do something now, it’s only going to get worse. I cannot go back to the girl I used to be. I was miserable then. My life was at it’s worst when I was over 200 pounds, and there is no way I will allow myself to fall back into that depression. I refuse.

The first thing that I am doing is adding green tea into my diet and subtracting any sugary drinks. That means no more sugary coffee, just honey and a little creamer. I will also be adding ginger and cinnamon to my coffee and green tea to awaken my metabolism even more. I will drink the green tea at night before bed and at lunch. The coffee will try to stay in the morning along with a shot of apple cider vinegar, but my goal is to minimalize my coffee intake to two cups a day. 

The next thing that I am attempting to do is kind of related to fasting. I am cutting lunch out of my day and sticking to only breakfast and dinner. Breakfast is important because it sets you up for the day. Breakfast wakes your body up and fills you up, but you have more time to burn it off since you eat it in the morning. Dinner feeds that part of you that needs to eat before bed. Your body and metabolism is exhausted and needs something to wake it up a little, so dinner is very important. Honestly, all I need for lunch is a granola bar and a cup of yogurt, and I’m set. What is the point in over eating when I barely have time to eat anyway? Instead of shoveling food into my mouth, why not pace myself with something small and wash it down with some green tea? That is the goal.

Another important goal is to insure that I get out everyday. So, after classes I plan on going for a walk. Everyone has been telling me to go to the gym, and while I may consider it, I find it will be more beneficial if I receive some vitamin D whilst exercising. Vitamin D is important for energy, and I’m going to need a lot of energy. 

Then comes the obvious thing, I need to drink more water throughout the day. It is crucial that I stay hydrated because if I’m thirsty, my body will confuse it for hunger. I am going to start bringing my water bottle with me everywhere. It must be water because while green tea is good for me, it contains to much caffeine just like coffee. I need to keep the caffeine intake to a minimal so my body stops relying on it for energy. Water. Water. Water.

I hope this change helps me in my quest to fit in my clothes again. I will keep updating on how it is going. I am not sure how long I am going to do this for, but I am hoping to get back down to 140 pounds before New Years. I need all the support possible. Even if you think it’s dumb and that I don’t need to lose weight, I ask of you to respect my decision and try to keep me on track.  

The Cancer

Victoria Jerde

 

My day has been for the most part well,

Then again depression eats away at every happy thought.

I go through this battle every day.

Almost every time, I’m the one on the ground.

The work overload eats me whole.

Digging my way out to just catch one breath.

I’m always sucked back down,

In a pile of anxiety,

In a pile of self doubt.

And I just lie there.

Too tired to pick myself back up.

Too tired to try and grasp the light.

And don’t forget about the voices.

Because they will never let it slip your mind.

They fill you with, “you’re not good enough.”

“You need this to look okay.”

“Your life is worthless.”

“You don’t deserve to be here.”

And you believe it because if it’s your own mind saying it.

Why would it lie to you, right?

Right?

No.

Yes.

No.

No always wins.

It’s like pulling a joke on the Joker.

He invented it.

Then, when I lose the war I just want to scream.

I want to scream at myself for believing it.

But my heart and my head are at each other’s throats.

And it’s slowing overtaking me.

Until all that rings in my mind are negative thoughts.

Which is the cancer to any self love you thought you had.

This three year battle has been exhausting.

I’ve been ripped apart like a useless piece of paper.

And blown away into the air without a care.

I want it to go away.

I want to be done with it.

I want it to be gone.

Vanished from my spiralling life.

I want to be able to pick up my shattered pieces.

And glue them back together.

Maybe then I’ll feel just a little more whole.

A little more complete.

A little more alive.

But, until then,

My day’s like this will just repeat.

And repeat.

And repeat.

Who? Who are you? You are not the same person I talked to, in the beginning. I told you I did not want to hurt anymore. Yet, you did just that. I know you understood what I said because you claimed to have felt the exact same way. That means part of what you said was a lie. Not knowing who I am, I still want you. 

What? What is this I feel? My heart is beating fast, my hands are shaking, and tears are rolling down my face.  It is getting out of hand and I cannot control it. It only happens when you come around. I am legitimately scared of what will happen next. I am scared of you. More intensely though, I am scared of myself.  One day I will learn though. Still not knowing what I feel, I still want you.

When? When did this happen? It started out so innocent, then so messy, now so vicious. I am trying to keep the darkest parts of me locked away, but the more I am around you, the more I long for you. I got so caught in our conversations that I lost track of the time. Now, there are these endless thoughts of you that I cannot get rid of. You had me at, “Wassup, you good?” Right then, I knew it was over. You had me up all night thinking of all the great times we would share. Now that you have walked away, I am up all night thinking what did I do? It had to have been my fault, it always is. And not knowing when the right time is, I still want you. 

Where? Where was I? So many feelings transpired, so fast. I could not have been there, because I did not feel them until now. Say it loud, say it clear. I was not myself then and I am most definitely not myself now. The difference is, then, I was happy. Now, I am bitter. My bitterness has overtaken my spirit. I have not learned how to suppress these feelings. Therefore, you will always be that negative thought that ruins my day. Even not knowing where I was, I still want you. 

Why? Why me? Why did I have to be your next victim? Why would you drag my feelings through the dirt ? Why would you admit your wrong doings, like it means nothing? Why would you caress my mind, my soul, and my body, then just walk away? Why did I fall for it? Why did I not recognize your “typical boy” behaviors? Most of all, why did I not do the same to you? Yet and still not knowing why me, I still want you. 

 

It’s a bit late, given we did the assignment about two weeks ago, but I kind of wanted to share one or two poems that I wrote for our ekphrastic poetry assignment. Now, as a warning, my poems are usually vague or obvious. It’s easier for me to understand in ways, but it’s up to you as a reader to interpret it in your own way. With that being said, I present some of my work.

 I was unable to locate the photographer of this picture, but I didn’t take it!

Title: Fire Spirit

The flames spoke to the sky
Inviting the stars to watch its beautiful destruction
The wood cracks and its charred remains float into the wind,
Swirling to make a dance that the sky would be proud to witness

The spirit of the flames lives and breathes
Taking in the energy it needs to keep its flames burning
The heat from its flames invites others to come close
To bask in its warmth and to stay for the show

The ashes fly up into the air,
spiraling to make patterns against the black of the night
The fire spirit enjoys its purpose
To burn what’s put into it and to create something beautiful
In its stead

The fire spirit is not a malevolent being
It lives in the flames
And warms the hands and hearts of those around it
The fire spirit burns to emit its spray of ash for the sky to watch

But do not mistake its kindness
At any second, the fire spirit can burn those around it
Torch homes and trees
Scar the landscape around it
The fire spirit lives and breathes
And it can destroy too.

For this next poem, I was actually able to find the name of the photographer. His name is Ronald Ong, but the photo (as far as I know) did not have a name.

Title: His Light

The bright light glinted against the backdrop that was the sky
His hand grasped the base of the light bulb gently
As his eyes took in the rainbow sherbet sky
And the bright bulb illuminated his greyish-green eyes

The stars were trapped within the bulb along with the girl
She was his light, but she never knew it
She didn’t know she was what lit up his life
She was his light, and he admired her every night
Night was when she shone the best

She watched the stars dance around her as he watched her joy
The sliver of moon made her hair look radiant,
and he longed to touch her starlight hair
She was his light, trapped inside the thin glass membrane of the bulb
His to admire, to love, and to cherish

So there he stood, admiring his light
As she admired the stars
And both were lost in the radiance of their lights

Those were only two out of the six poems that I wrote for the assignment. Please do tell me what you think of them, either in the comments or to my face! 

We all know what RBF stands for, and if you don’t, just hit up the Urban Dictionary. They’ll be happy to help. So, yeah, I know I have a HORRIBLE RBF. It could be the number one cause for me not having many friends, but hey, quality over quantity. Am I right?

So, when it comes to smiling, I’m so lazy. I mean my face is so comfortable at its normal standstill. I have to use a whole lot of energy that I don’t have just to smile at one person. I pass by and see MANY people on a daily bases, so if I smile at everyone I know, I’d have wrinkles right now, ya dig? Usually, I just give this flat smile and go on with my life. Well, I began to notice that not many people smile back. I never knew why or if it was just a bad day, so I always just brushed it off. I mean, let’s be honest, if I got angry over EVERYONE who didn’t return a smile, I’d be a very sad person.

After many months of wondering why I don’t have *cough* friends *cough*, I saw a video that a friend got of me where I was smiling, or so I thought. No, it was NOT a smile. It was a “don’t talk to me,” face. I was so embarrassed and finally came to the conclusion that I literally do not know how to smile…at all. So, today I’m celebrating all of those who struggle daily with RBF. Women and men. Girl or boy. I’m here to say that I get it. I know your struggle. I live with it. Today we are here to just sit back, laugh and relate to these everyday struggles of having an RBF.

I feel like the reason I don’t have many friends is that people think I’m unapproachable. Yeah, I get it, I look like a b, but “I swear, it’s just my face.” If I had a dollar for every time I’ve said that sentence, I’d be able to fix my RBF.

“I never wanted to approach you because you seemed like a b.” I’m pretty sure almost all my friends have said this one line to me at least once. It’s gotten to where I now just expect it to be said at one point.

After actually getting to know me instead of just judging a book by its cover, you also get the infamous line, “you’re actually really nice.” I’m like, “Did you expect me not to be?”

I can’t tell you how many times my mom or teachers have come to the conclusion that I have a “bad attitude.” I mean, come on, I haven’t said a word to any of you. Oh yeah, I forgot that when you add no talking to an RBF, you end up with an eternal attitude.

When people actually do approach you, there absolutely has to be something wrong with you. I mean, no one’s face can look like that without being something wrong. Right? And that leads to the repeated question of, “are you okay?” When you say, “yes” they automatically think you’re lying to them, so they ask 238,478,923 more times, believing they might get a new answer. It’s like they don’t want you to be okay.

Oh, and the constant “cheer up” faces you get after finally proving to them that you are OKAY. Good grief.

Then, when you take their advice, you have to put in so much extra work to appear “happy.” I don’t know about you, but smiling is a chore for me. Seriously.

Of course, when you do smile, it comes off as fake because no one has ever seen you smile without effort. Don’t ya just love assumptions?

Let’s not forget the struggle of actually having friends. At least once a week they ask you, “are you mad at me?” When you tell them no because you have no clue what they are talking about, they insist that you are, and end up avoiding you for the rest of the day.

If you have ever struggled with any of these scenarios, you most likely have an RBF. But, hey, welcome to the club. It’s not always a great face to live with, but maybe when we are 60 we will look 30 years old due to the lack of smiling we’ve endured. Yeah, maybe not, but it’s something to wish for.