If I could write like anyone, I would write like Rachel Calnek-Sugin: a review

Okay, so it’s like title says, I really really want to write like this one poet, Rachel Calnek Sugin. Recently I asked my senior, Katie, what some good poets are she recommended me a set of poems that won a prize. She had actually read one at a coffee house once. I remember taking a liking to the poem, “Ebola in Dallas:, but I didn’t ask what it was.

When I got her poetry recommendation, I went through each one individually and eventually found this poetry collection of sorts. I’m not sure if they all are supposed to go together as a set, but they all three won an award together, so I will be reviewing them together. Here is the link if you would like to read along with me. If you don’t read this review, I would at LEAST read the poems themselves. There is something so magical about them. Link to Collection

The first one is the famous,

Ebola in Dallas

To start off with this one, I just want to mention how vividly I remember the Ebola outbreak. I was in middle school, and being the anxious person I am, I was terrified of it. I was cuddled up in a comforter on my brown living room couch, and I felt paralyzed with fear. My grandparents live in Houston, and just like the poem states a lot, Dallas isn’t too far off. An otherworldly problem suddenly became one extremely close to home.

Besides my own personal connection to the poem itself, I love how the author picks apart the privilege that a lot of Americans possess. It takes a lot of guts to call out your own privilege in a piece of writing.

The repetition of ideas, like the dying baby, brought a lot to the poem, It not only makes the reader sympathize, but also empathize. It becomes a poem that isn’t just about a child dying of Ebola, but it twists it into one that is themselves or their child dying of Ebola.

At Thurgood Marshall

Living in the south, this one makes a lot of sense to me, especially being a white girl of privilege.

To recap the poem, this girl is taking the ACT at a school that isn’t their own, up in Harlem. For those who don’t know, Harlem is usually thought of an extremely unsafe neighborhood, and most even think of it is a majority African-american neighborhood.

So the tone of this poem is morphed into an uncomfortableness, not because she feels unsafe, but she feels out of place. It isn’t hard to pick up that she is obviously well-off while others are not. I love how they paint this with the dialogue. She is asked where she goes to school, and it recounts how she is ashamed to say that she goes to a school where there are smart boards in every class and that has a college attendance rate of 100%. The other kids in the class have to ask for a calculator, assumed to be because they cannot afford one.

I even think its interesting how she is aware of her own unconscious bias within the poem. Again, I think its commendable to point out ones own flaws, and want to change them.

When My Go Out I Eat Breakfast For Dinner and Pee With the Door Open


I just am utterly speechless every time I read this. This is by far my favorite in the collection. For one, the title. It doesn’t obviously have to do with the contents of the poem, but it makes me think of my own teenage life, which is a theme throughout the poem.

Again, the author points out her own flaws and hypocrisy, which is adds so much depth.

I also enjoy how she recounts her life and separate memories that wouldn’t seem like they have much to do with another, but she makes them all flow into each other. Its truly just flawless.

To wrap it up as a poem without spoiling too many specifics, the ending is done so well because of how she wraps everything back, and even makes the ending line a new punch. It made me think back to the poem, and brought a completely new element.

All in all, this collection is stunning, and I might just frame it for my dorm room.

poetry for the road i guess

I’ve really enjoyed writing poetry/prose from a different person’s perspective recently, so here ya go. Here is my parting gift from senior year, a poem from yours truly.


I came by yesterday. You still keep the key under the welcome mat.I always pestered you to move it – I was always afraid someone would break in, but you had a tendency to not listen. I was half-hoping that you would be in there when I walked in. Maybe you’d smile at me, with pity because you regret what you did, or you’d cry and hold me because you regret what you did. But that’s in the universe where you regret what you did.I don’t get the pleasure to live there. Live with that version of you.I don’t get the pleasure to live in the universe where it didn’t happen in the first place. Anyways, I was only there to get some of my records. The ones we’d dance to while making breakfast. And there sitting in your window sill were flowers. Fresh pink tulips. Flowers just sitting there. Remember your last birthday? I asked you what your favorite type of flowers were, and you just told me “I don’t like the idea of buying flowers. Its just kind of stupid to buy something that’s gonna die, isn’t it?” And now here you are with fresh Tulips in your window. When did you become the sort of person who bought flowers. I guess things change. Similar to how one day you loved me and the next you didn’t. Things change, people change. I wish they didn’t. I haven’t changed you know. I’m still that same guy. The same guy that was in love with you. Still in love with you to clarify. You’d think its been so long that’d I wouldn’t be anymore. I’ve been seeing this girl for awhile. She’s so great. And I love her, I do, but I think there will always be some part of me that loves you. But I loved the you that hated the concept of buying flowers. I think you aren’t that girl anymore. Please, stop leaving the key under the mat. I want to stop worrying about you.

Until Next Time

So we’re nearing the end of the year, and I just wanted to check in, even this isn’t my last blog post (while it is getting close to that time). I think my point of me writing this is to let you guys know where I’m at at, and what kind of head space I’m in.

This past year has been the worst and best of my life. And I say that in the most endearing way possible. It started out with me moving here to MSA, and that was the hardest thing I’ve done. For a while, I felt really lonely and didn’t really feel like I belonged at the school. It had gotten to the point I resented the school, and didn’t want to be here. When I mean I was so close to dropping out, I mean I would have if my mom would have let me.

But by a stroke of God, she didn’t and when this semester started, the strangest thing happened; I didn’t want to go home on weekends anymore, and I actually kind of dreaded it. Not because I hated home, but because I had so much joy in spending time with people at MSA. If I could have frozen any point of time, it probably would have been late March to Mid-April.

It feels like so much time has passed, and at the same time, like none has all. I feel so matured, yet also somehow still like that scared, timid girl I came as. I’ve changed and morphed and I know I will keep doing that. And so has my work! Although, I feel like I’ve hit a wall with creating content, I can see the immense growth from the beginning of the year to now.

This weekend we meet the Juniors, and I’m so excited. This is a whole new set of people I’m about to meet, some that might change my life forever, or might just change it for a couple of months. Either way, I can’t wait to see them blossom and flourish like our class of 2020 did.

I would say what I’m feeling most of all, is scared. I’m so terrified for this new beginning, and this end of an era. I’m getting the feeling just like I had those first couple of months at MSA; scared and somehow so alone. But I’m trying to remind myself that on senior move-in day I’ll see so many familiar faces, and then get to know the new ones.

So with this, I say hello to a new era. Ew, that’s so cheesy, but it’s true. I hate goodbyes, and I’m not going to let this be one.

So hello school year of 2019-2020! I’m excited to experience you. Please be kind to me, because 2018-2019 has really put me through the ringer.

When I Write Down My Thoughts pt 2

If you missed part one of this, you should go read it! But the jist of this is that I write down days and times and thoughts I have then. I’ve gotten really bad at remembering to do it, or maybe I’m not just thinking of much that’s notable enough to write down. Either way here we go, enjoy.


March 22

10:55 am

I smashed a bug on the carpet today. It looked so confused, reminded me of how my blind dog  gets when she doesn’t where she is. I tried to get it to go the opposite direction, nudging it with my foot, but it wouldn’t. It flipped on its back occasionally, only to flip back over and scurry towards me. I smashed it. Stepped on it a few times before its exoskeleton caved in on itself. I’m not sure if I did it to put it out of its misery or if I just don’t like bugs.

March 25

8:09 pm

I wonder how much it would hurt to pull muscle from bone.

March 28

11:19 am

There’s an elderly lady in all blue with pineapple socks at this workshop that isn’t writing and looks half-dead.

April 12

1:12 pm

I want to write something pretty about tulips.

April 14

10:30 pm

I want to write but my words aren’t meshing together into one coherent thought or maybe I just don’t have good ideas or good words.

April 15

2:35 pm

People tell me that actions speak louder than words but what do I do? I’m a writer isn’t that the point of my existence?

April 27

7:07 pm

Even if they don’t know, I know.

April 30

9:04 am

I’ve never wanted more time until now, and suddenly it’s all I want.

May 4

6:59 pm

I saw Endgame today and all I could think about was how I got bangs.

May 5

5:59 pm

I think I want to throw myself into another self transformation. Maybe it’s because I’m trying to avoid feeling. Oh well.

May 6

8:03 am

I think when I love, it starts out as Pragma; a love driven by the head, not the heart. Then it morphs into something that isn’t quite mania, but also isn’t eros. I love too hard, but it makes me happy in the moment. Ew, this is cringey.


I feel as if my whole existence is one big fail-safe mechanism.

/ˈfāl ˈˌsāf/
  1. a system or plan that comes into operation in the event of something going wrong or that is there to prevent such an occurrence.
    “the secondary safety system is indeed a fail-safe”

I am a walking, living, breathing, mess of a person. It’s very blatant, and honestly every single person that has met me knows this. I’m a long limb-ed catastrophe.  I always seem to get myself into stick situations and am somehow always shaking like a chihuahua at any given moment. Don’t bother asking me why because I never ever know why I’m shaking. Even when I’m not nervous, I’m shaking. It’s quite the problem.

ANYWAYS! I’ve noticed that my resting state is kind of just a constant, on edge, nervousness. So, as anyone WOULD think, if I were to get particularly nervous, it’d be awful. Like MEGA MEGA MEGA MEGA nervous. The opposite. I get care-free and pumped and hyped, even if I should be nervous. It’s like my fight or flight response shuts off. It’s the stupidest thing. What’s even STUPIDER is that when I shouldn’t be nervous, I am. Let me tell you all about the time I got fitted for contacts.

So, I march my merry way to the eye doctor, because I’ve decided I want contacts. Me and my dad get there, and I notice I’m a lil’ anxious, but after all I always am. I get a little nervous every time at the eye doctor. I hate the eye puff blowy thing because it scares me. But! I prevail and get it over with, and everything is fine and dandy, right? W r o n g. We go through some more tests and the nice eye doctor with a Minnesota accent goes, “Okay, I’m going to put some numbing drops in your eyes so the contact is easier to get in.”

In my head I’m like, “Okay, that doesn’t sound so bad, maybe just a little weird.” I take my glasses off, let him put the numbing drops in, and they settle. In the next couple of moments, I realize I no longer have control of my eyes, and this sets my body off. When I pass out, my vision will start going yellow before I lose consciousness. So here I am, vision completely yellow, consciousness hazy. At this point I don’t think the eye doctor or my dad can tell, so the eye doctor goes “Which one looks better, one or two.” And me being the nervous person I am, I don’t want to tell the eye doctor I’m about to pass out, so I say, “I can’t see.” And he just thinks it’s too blurry so he changes the slide once more and says, “What about now?” and then I proceed to say, “I can’t see anything.”

This is the moment where I think they realized, and they tried to get me up and into the waiting room, but as soon as they stood me up my head lolled forward and I dropped my phone.

You might be asking, “Now Emerson, why did you pass out in the nice Minnesota man’s optometrist office?” I was asking myself the same question. So I come to clarity, my vision is clear now, I’m shaking violently, but I’m conscious.

Wanna know why I passed out? My fight or flight response kicked in, so my blood pressure bottomed out too fast and that’s why I passed out. I WAS NOT NERVOUS, BUT MY BODY THOUGHT IT SHOULD BE SO IT MADE ME PASS OUT.

I swear, this fail-safe mechanism does NOT work in my favor. Now my mom even has to tell my dentist, “Watch out for her, she’s a fainter.”

If my body doesn’t figure out what it’s doing soon I’ll be m a d  m a d.



Here’s an excerpt on an interview I did with my mom.

In 2001 my dad worked for Cantor-Fitzgerald in E-Trading. They had just opened a new firm in Houston, Texas, so he moved his family there, and commuted from Texas to New York every week.

On September 11, 2001, my dad was supposed to be working at World Trade I. Instead, he was in Houston because my mom had an appointment to see about trying to have a third child, me, after having surgery. 658 out of 960 Cantor-Fitzgerald workers lost their lives when World Trade I fell that day, making it the firm with the most casualties that day.

Fast forward to 2019, I’m sitting alone face-to-face with my mother on her bed. She has some reality show paused, one of the Real Housewives spin-offs. Our fourteen-year old yorkie, Libby, is laying off to the side of Mom.

I start the voice recording, and in the back of my mind, I feel like I already know what she is going to say. I’ve heard most of the story since birth, mostly from my mom. However, after getting past some of the key details; what was dad’s job, where were you when it happened, what was your initial reaction, etc., I asked,

“How did you tell Hannah and Conor?”

I already sort of knew the answer, so when she replied with, “…I went to see a child psychologist, and she said to explain to Conor and Hannah what happened, just say that some bad men hit Daddy’s work, but Daddy wasn’t there, Daddy’s in Houston, and to offer to let them watch it one time, but then turn everything off, no newspapers. Because they would see it as happening over and over again.

I wasn’t surprised. I then asked her, “Did she ask any questions when you told her?”

For the first time, my mom thought for a second rather than spitting out an answer she seemed to have recited a thousand times.

“She did. She would ask em’ like intermittently throughout the next month or so. We had been to World Trade I to visit her dad a few months before and the man in the deli on floor 105 gave her one of those suckers that’s like a pinwheel sucker, and he told her that he had thirteen kids. And she thought that was so funny, so later that night she came down and asked me,  “Did the man with thirteen kids that gave me the sucker die.” And I had to say, “Yes, I’m afraid he did.” And then she asked, your dad’s secretary was nine months pregnant, with a little boy, and she asked me if she died, and if the little boy died, and I had to say yes. So, ya’ know she would just come up and just ask those kinds of questions.”

I was shocked. She had never mentioned that before. I prior knew about my dad’s pregnant secretary that had died, but mom had never been that open about something so raw. What surprised me even more, is that my dad had mentioned that same man weeks before when we were talking. We were driving to my grandparents’ house in Houston, the radio was softly playing, and I had briefly mentioned something about how it must have been awful to lose so many friends. He turned to me and said,

“I lost a lot of friends, yes, but it’s not even just that. It would be the people you saw at the deli, like the man serving you. It’s the people you see just for a fleeting moment that seem to disappear. “

Hearing my mom mention the man with thirteen kids brought me back to that same conversation. I however did not interrupt, and just let her continue telling the rest of the day, the man with the thirteen kids still on my mind.

text messages i’ve received and sent/questions i’d like to, answers id like to hear

Something I find infinitely inch resting, is that everyone has their own text messages on their own phone, and nobody’s is alike. Like the one’s on my phone aren’t the same on your phone, unless we are texting each other that it is. And even if the messages are the same or similar, they could have completely different meanings! Which just blows my mind!! And it just made me think, what was on my phone. It’s also very inch resting to see mine and other people’s texting vernacular and patterns. So,here’s a list of text messages I have on my phone. (me, other people)

is it just me or does Hamilton exude serious Sagittarius energy?

yoga looked like a cult last night

I’m gonna buy some mice from the pet store and release them into the yard so Sarah has something to do

i feel like the rapture could be happening and you’d still be there

Yeah, kill the economy by drive insurance premiums while tanking the job market. 

I’m trying to decide if I slept too long and that’s why I hurt all over OR I have the flu.

Will update

I’ll forever feel bad about what I did

anything old school Miley speaks to my soul on a spiritual level

the sky was this pinkish peach color that you talked about one time tonight on the beach and I swear to the sky above if you were a color that’s what you’d look like

only weenies cheat

He has the heart and body of a weasel

I miss you

Like in my heart

miss you too

In your heart?

in my heart

Costar is out for your blood sis

you.  got aloe?


Would my dog eat me if I died?

She wouldn’t even think about it. She would lay beside you and wait for you to get up, and when you don’t she would paw at the door until someone notices. When they do, she’ll lay where you once were, and wait. Wait forever. 

How do I keep my tulip from dying?

Love it with everything. Water it gently, turn it towards the sun, and play soft music for it. Talk about your day, tell it how your’re feeling. Give it a name. Maybe something like Lily or Delilah. Make it your best friend. Comfort the tulip and let it comfort you.  Doing these things, it will never die on you. 

Is it certain that the people you love most will stay in your life?

Even if they leave for a while, they are always set to return.

What comes after death?

Whatever you believe is going to happen. If  you manifest it, then it will be true. The afterlife is what you make it. 

Why do bad things happen to good people?

Sometimes, the bad situation makes them a better person in the end. They learn and grow and then emerge the other side stronger. 

I saw a doe get hit by a car last week, and on the bank of the road I could see her babies. What is going to happen to them?

They will become apart of one of those viral stories where a dog, most likely a golden retriever, adopts them, and raises them as one of her own. Then when they’re fully grown, they will venture out, but always coming back to their golden. 

Will those fawns be hit by cars too?

Of course not. They’ve learned to not cross roads. 

Are you telling the truth or are you saying what I want to hear?

I would never lie to you. 

When I Write Down My Thoughts

Feb 25

2:10 pm

My left eye is hurting and I wish it would stop because it’s the only thing keeping me from focusing.

Feb 27

12:24 pm

I feel like it’s September again.

1:06 pm

I’m in the handicap stall. I always feel guilty when I do this because what if someone actual needs it? What if I walked out and they’re leaning on their crutches, waiting. What do I say? Sorry, I like the space in the biggest stall better, and I feel less trapped? Does this make me a bad person?

3:11 pm

I drank Diet Coke thinking it would soothe my dry throat.

3:17 pm

I understand why my brother always carries a book. It gives people a reason not to talk to you and gives you a distraction from people not talking to you.

Feb 27

12;02 am

The world is cruel and unfair for no reason. Some kid today got the diagnosis that he has leukemia. He probably didn’t know what that meant. His mom probably could only explain to him that he wouldn’t be able to play soccer for a while because how do you explain to a six year old that they’re dying. It’s easier to just explain that they’re sick and tell them they’ll get better for next soccer season. If they live to next soccer season. Or even worse maybe a kid didn’t get diagnosed today and never will. They will leave silently and painfully and maybe no one will mourn for them. Today a dog got put down. Today several dogs got put down. Not even ones who got to live a long, loved life. Ones that take up too much space in an animal shelter. Ones that didn’t know love until the vet was stroking their fur while they got euthanized. Hoe does the world let a dog who has never slept in till noon in a queen size bed with a loving owner die? The same world who (Insert: and maybe cruel things don’t fit in some box. Letting a person live a mediocre life could be cruel idk???)

7:27 am

Last night I had a dream that someone told me we didn’t have school tomorrow. I don’t remember who it was but I just remember feeling loved.

March 3

1:04 am

When I was 7 my biggest fear is that when I swallowed gum it’d stay in my stomach for seven years, churning and churning. I can’t vouch that it did because was I turned 14 I was too hyper focused on other things to realize if it had come and gone.

March 7

1:08 pm

I think that’s the dumbest thing.

March 10

1:41 pm

My bones crack like tiny bird bones.

March 14

7:44 pm

I like the sound of when people in love laugh. It’s really pretty.

March 15

11:45 am

One time I saw a woman and what I assumed was her father sitting across from her father sitting across from each other at a Johnny Rockets. The woman was so tiny that wind could knock her dead over. The man was wearing overalls; could have been a farmer. The entire time they sat there, they sat in silence. The daughter couldn’t even look him in the eye. She curled herself in her seat, focused on the floor instead of him. The father looked at her, almost pleading for her to say the words he couldn’t find. Their food got to the table. I think that they both got a burger, or at least the daughter did. She scarfed down half of her burger, not touching her fries. I looked away to eat my own food, and when I looked back she was gone, and her dad was eating the empty food she didn’t eat, his own plate empty. After he finished, he wobbled up to the counter, paid, and left.

March 18

11:44 pm

I like feeling the cold dorm air against my skin.


9:14 pm

The smell of six day old Diet Coke from Sonic is soothing. It is mostly melted ice but it still smells exactly like Sonic Diet Coke and last weekend when it was dark outside and I begged to stop for Diet Coke. I’m heating up pizza rolls for the second time today. Why can’t I have a 50 count if I want to? My brain would say its because it’s too much and I’ve already eaten so much today, and maybe I have, but if I were to verbalize it I’d say it’s because I’m full. That’s a lie. I’m never full and maybe it’s because I haven’t been hugged today or I haven’t had enough pizza rolls or maybe because I remembered that my parents put me down and never picked me back up or maybe I realized that everything is so fleeting and I’m just grasping at air like tickets at Chuck E. Cheese. Like when I’d go to some kid’s birthday party, never my own because mom always told me next year, even though I always knew next year we wouldn’t have the money either, when the birthday kid would grasp at the floating tickets. Except I can’t cash in tickets for some temporary tattoos or bouncy balls. Except I don’t catch any either because it’s not my birthday, even though in my daydream it is, because my Chuck E. Cheese birthday party is next year, right mom? Six pizza rolls are left on the plate and if I’m still not full after that I’m not sure I have the heart in me to heat up the rest. However, after those ten pizza rolls left in in the bag I’m sure it wouldn’t do much. Maybe those Chuck E. Cheese prizes have been the missing link. My birthday is in in a couple of months and I really hope that this is the year.


So there’s this tag, that I thought that I would answer the questions from. I wanted to write some cool, funky, fresh intro but honestly the questions and answers should speak for themselves if I write this well enough. Here’s the website I got it from: https://www.themessyheads.com/new-gallery-2

Who are you when no on is looking?

A slower, less emotive version of myself. When no one is looking it’s almost like I stop emoting. Not because I don’t have emotions, but more of because when I emote I have to think so much about it, because I always want to make sure that I’m a certain version of myself. It changes with the certain people I’m with. I think the closest version of myself to if no one was looking is the self I’m with when I’m with my friend Cady. My state when no one is looking could be described as comfortable silence. 

What does it mean to be you? 

I can’t tell if this means like ME, Emerson Moffatt Hultman, or just someone in general. Since I’m me, I’ll answer how to be me. Around people, the key is being energetic, verging on ditsy. I know people would never say it but I think a good descriptor of me is ditsy even though I’m really not. Just a lil’ airheaded. But the other side is inquisitive! Surprisingly, I have a lot of thoughts and questions inside this head. I think to be me is a balance of being lively and more gentle. 

How might friends describe you?

I already kind of said this, but ditsy, for sure. Lovable. Child-like. Needs to be protected. I don’t know, that’s how I feel like people view me. Maybe that’s just the youngest child in me, but I feel like people always have this want to protect me. Like a puppy you found on the side of the road. Which don’t get me wrong I like being cared for sometimes, but I also don’t want to lose any respect because of this. I can make my own decisions. I have thoughts that could maybe mean something. I feel like the person I display sometimes comes off as too dumb sometimes.

How does that differ from who you actually are?

I mean I am those things, but I think my real self is just wiser than one might thing. And maybe that’s extremely egotistical of me to think. Maybe I am just a child growing up that doesn’t know much, but a part of me believes that I have thoughts that are growing into something meaningful. Maybe that small part is the real me. 

Talk about your hardships.

I have negative EIGHT vision, which means without glasses or contacts I’m very blind. My dog Libby is almost fourteen meaning, she is close to death. My house burned down when I was three, right after my parents separated. I’ve done a lot of things for people I love, and despite those efforts they haven’t been enough. The other day I tripped on a rug and almost fell flat on my face. I failed two Zoology tests in a row. These aren’t it, but dang I can’t share all my trials and tribulations just yet.

Do you think you know yourself right now?

Not at all. I think for the first time in my life I’m learning to, but just because I’m learning doesn’t mean I KNOW KNOW. Not yet. 

What are you passionate about?

Photography, writing, and animals. Hence my want to be a wildlife photographer/wildlife photojournalist; haven’t really decided yet. I thought growing up I would HAVE to be a vet if I wanted to work with animals, but that’s not the case at all. It might seem like a weird thing to want to be, but I think it fits me so well. Which may be wrong since I don’t know myself too well yet. 

How do you think about where you grew up?

I grew up in two different parts of Mississippi: Ecru and Oxford. These two are polar opposites. Ecru is too close minded for me. It’s the typical small, southern, baptist town stereotype. Then in sixth grade, I moved to Oxford. While I love Oxford, and it’s such a progressive, lovely town, I think for teens it can be extremely toxic. I describe the high-school life there, as “pre-college.” There’s this even bigger need to feel older and be a college kid since it’s a college town, and I think it’s a real problem for it’s students. 

Talk about a moment that changed you.

I’m not going to go into detail, but sitting in my best friend’s car one night, I just asked her a question, and she answered, and then there was silence. And I think her support and love really changed me in that moment. I could feel it in the silence in the car. 

What is your greatest attribute?

I love hard. For most people. I think this to me translates into me being easy-going, but really I just don’t want conflict, and want people to be happy. Maybe this isn’t a great attribute for m e, but it helps others, and that’s okay with me. 

What is your biggest accomplishment?

Getting through the worst part of my life in one piece. September-December of 2018 was so mentally difficult, but somehow I managed to get all A’s and make friends and learn to be kind to myself, and I’m so proud that I did that. It’s not easy still, but I did it!!!

What is your biggest failure?

Letting myself go Sophomore year. I didn’t do the things I should have to pull me through and make the grades I should have, and I regret it a lot. I think I blame my mental illness too much on it. I wish I would have kept my grades up. I felt like the school year of 2017-2018 was a stagnant growing year and I hate that.  

Do you love yourself if not, why not?

I don’t. There’s so many factors that play into that. Appearance, personality, etc. I think that it’s possible for others to love themselves, and maybe even it’s just a love they’re born with, not a journey they have to go on. I’d for sure have to go on a journey to love myself, and it’s just not on the top of my to-do list right now. I’m trying to focus on getting through to summer while spending as much time with my friends before they graduate. Maybe this summer will be the summer I get around to finding myself and loving myself, but that’s a really big task. Rewarding, but daunting.

Do you believe in yourself?

Depends on what I’m doing. I know I can write a killer essay, but I also know that I can’t solve an algebraic equation to save myself. So, yes, I believe in myself to a certain extent. 

What is your first thought in the morning?

I honestly don’t think I start actually thinking until afternoon, so N/A is my answer.

Who are you at the core of yourself?

How can I know that if I haven’t even found myself yet? Geesh. 

What are you trying to do with your life?

Survive until at LEAST 24. 

What advice do you have to give?

Not only know the difference between Love and Infatuation, but learn how to know if someone else has Love for you or Infatuation for you. 

Have you found yourself?

This question seems redundant. Maybe not. Maybe knowing yourself and finding yourself are different things, but no to both. 

What does society prevent you from being?

I honestly don’t think society is what’s holding me back, I think it’s just me. Do I count as society in this instance? 

Everyone i meet knows something I do not. what do you know that I don’t?

A tree fell in my backyard, and took down an entire post. No one noticed. I only figured it out because my dog, Sarah, kept getting out of the fence and I had to figure out where she was getting out. A whole tree in my backyard. Not a single soul noticed. People are so oblivious to their own surroundings. They’re missing so much. 

What code of morals do you live by?

Do things because a better outcome will come for others, not for yourself. This might be bad advice but that’s how I try to live. 

What do others assume about you because of your appearance?

I have no substance to me. I’m NoT lIkE oThEr GiRlS!!!!!!