Author: Sara Hebert

when i was in middle school, my mom told me “misery loves company,” after i mentioned my friends’ rough days, and why i felt bad that they were hurting. i’ve since abandoned that phrase, turning to a new philosophy: pessimism breeds misery. you have to want to be happy.

now, the want for joy is not necessarily what brings joy, but it is certainly the water being poured into a plant, vital to growing happiness from the roots outward. obviously you need the soil, seeds, and sunlight first, but your plant simply will not grow if it isn’t given the water of your longing. you have to want your plant to grow, and if you don’t, it will refuse. positive thoughts and expectations will breed more positive thoughts and outcomes, if you’ll let it.

and if situational happiness is more your speed, then allow yourself to watch things die, even if you keep watering them. ask yourself why your garden stopped growing, and what it allowed you to see. everyone’s garden goes a little bit dry sometimes, but if you take care of it, if you take care of yourself enough, the roots will rehydrate and you’ll start to love things again – no matter how trivial.

my bones run dry
as my dreams and garden lost.
the roots fall apart,
and soil turns to dust.
growing ground’s no better
than sand in the desert
if my garden goes unwatered
and plants don’t like the weather.

i’ve been baking bread for about three years now – i started with pita, continued to challah, and now, i can make some of the best rolls in the tri-state area. they’re fluffy, buttery, soft, and the perfect base to fill with cheese and pepperoni to make pizza rolls. here’s the kicker: they take 4 hours to make. an hour in total to prepare the dough, an hour rising, 30 minutes to shape, another hour to rise, then 30 minutes to bake.

learning to maintain the patience in baking bread is not an easy skill to learn, and if you don’t have the self-control, can produce subpar results. you have to let it rise and rest, or the gluten won’t develop, and the bread can become flat, flavorless, or just inedible. rising time is how bread develops and grows.

diamonds are formed under pressure. carbon is compressed and crystallized until a clear, shiny, pristine crystal appears.

diamonds cannot be made without pressure, and bread cannot be made without rest.

many high school students are sharing their experience of “gifted kid burnout,” explaining how the American school system has failed them. they try their best, but experiences and educational opportunities have been overtaken by standardized measurements of who someone else wants us to be, and arguably? indoctrinating us to become political pawns in their crooked game of chess, capitalism, and greed.

students learn differently. some need stress, others need rest. to treat a student like their intelligence and worth is determined out of a percentage is inhumane and unreal. where did we go wrong? when did we standardize children? and how to we go back in time to make sure students feel able to become the person they want to be, without fear of failing the system they were raised in?

if i had a dollar for every time i’ve heard a student here utter the words, “did someone say draco malfoy?” i wouldn’t even bother applying for scholarships. i kept telling myself it was just a meme, but my strong intuition pushed me to seek other answers. i procrastinated searching for aforementioned answers, but found them anyways – in a call with a long distance friend.

hunter and i talked for three hours, just catching up to see what each other was up to. the guy who introduced us is a mutual friend, and not always… the most pleasant of characters to work with. while being loyal and kind, he has his flaws as everyone does, like being standoffish and generally intimidating. i digress.

the most clarity came from our talks of toxicity in real life (our mutual friend) and how that applies to written characters, giving them a certain type of depth that you can’t find with a flawless character. you can’t empathize with someone who doesn’t have problems, and you can’t justify impulsive decisions if everything someone does is closely calculated.

someone is more likely to empathize with a character they know as broken – the heartbreaker who didn’t receive love from his mother, the manipulator who was abandoned her entire life, or the pessimist who has never had anyone to rely on to take care of them. these things may not be directly outlined, but they’re important parts of a character’s development to enrich a story.

characters are people, and they have a purpose, just as we do. flaws and all.

every writer knows the feeling of being stuck. there’s this overwhelming urge to write something, but i never know what. alternatively, i could have so many things to write about, but no clear way to express it. while both are inconvenient options, nothing beats the blissful experience of producing 8 poems of mediocre quality in a matter of 15 minutes. maybe the stars lined up just right so my motivation and content overlap, but nonetheless, something was created.

oftentimes, i, as a writer, forget that quality and quantity both have their place in my craft. sometimes i just want to get up and write something, even if no one will see it – even if i’ll delete it after 5 minutes because it sounds like a lovesick 13-year-old on A03 wrote it. motivation can be the hardest part, so if you have motivation, but not content, remember that your laptop, notebook, typewriter, or table napkin – are all safe spaces, exclusive to you if you wish them to be. there is a reason you’re being called to write, so let it out.

alas, my venting is over, and i will be facing my fears of releasing previously mentioned word vomit, right here, right now. unanswered, the work below, was written from 2:48am to 2:59am on Monday, September 6, 2020.

sometimes i want to pray for you,
in the middle of the night,
i can feel your crying in my soul,
i can feel you losing a fight.
but i know it’s not my place,
to try to heal your pain,
so sometimes i fall asleep
to the sound of the rain,
and it’s like you’re next to me,
but i know that you’re not,
still, if i can’t be near you,
at least there’s a thought.

so i hope you feel better,
and i hope you feel love,
and i hope that you will be
everything you wanted to become,
i hope your smile gets brighter,
and your shoulders feel lighter,
i hope you know that you’re a lover,
even when you try to be a fighter.
i hope you’ll let me pray for you
on the nights you start hurting,
and i hope you find it,
for whatever it is you’re searching.

i’m sure we’ve all heard, “life is like a box of chocolates – you never know what you’re gonna get,” at least a dozen times before. if this were true, mine would have been 14 smushed cherry ones, followed by 2 perfect fudge-filled truffles, each representing a year of my life. life, however, is not like a box of chocolates; to me, it’s like literature, and these past few days have been the first few chapters of my new book.

chapter one: begins with a blurry mess of paperwork, masks, boxes, and… tackling. yes, you heard me right, tackling. i checked into the first floor of my new home, then made the rounds of paperwork and picture taking as i moved in. my mom and papaw drove me to walmart to buy groceries, then stocked my fridge and cabinets when we came back. they left, and it was officially my first day on my own.

i called my roommate to gush about her kindness and style, when i was interrupted by another phone call – this time, from my internet best friend, who has earned the nickname “xanny.” he yelled at me saying he was outside, so i grabbed my keys, badge, and mask, before scaling 4 flights of stairs in a matter of 45 seconds – impressive record for someone who only takes the stairs when absolutely necessary.

chapter two: the moment i ran outside and Xanny ran to jump on me, our first time meeting in person. we caught up for about three minutes, where i talked to his mom and other family, and helped him get a few things unpacked.

chapter three: the rest of move-in day, some parts i can remember, some i can’t, but all of it was bright and refreshing to experience.

chapter four: the days after move-in day, before departure from my new home. We went to fox’s for pizza, ordered pizza hut, made a dg run… twice, and all spent time together in common areas around campus. We went to a candlelight dinner, and i would be lying if i said the majority of it wasn’t spent crying happy tears, staring at nature and all of the school buildings. it may be a little rundown town in the middle of nowhere, but if it means something to us, then you can’t help but see the beauty of it.

chapter five: the day nyk, mac, and i walked around to a coffee and ice cream shop, and the night i sat outside cooper hall, bonding with bear, nyk, mac, and emma, connecting on deeper levels than ever before. we talked about life, love, and family, and how the blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb, which really just means that we’re family now, and that’s all that matters. we love each other and their company, and we have each other’s backs no matter what.

chapter six: goodbye, but only for now.

there’s nothing heartbreaking about a new book – it means the series isn’t over yet.