Category: Junior Literary

I often feel inferior to the people I meet here. So many of them are extremely multi-talented, and I’m just not. I love writing. Writing is my passion, but it is also the only thing I am actually good at. I hate to use the word envy, but it stands bluntly honest in the way I feel. I can only dream of being agile enough to dance, having an angelic voice, knowing technology enough to create film, or even have the ability to keep a straight face while reciting lines from a script.

I can practically hear my mother’s voice in my head saying “You can do anything you set your mind to.” Don’t get me wrong, I do not doubt my ability to create art through words. I simply wish I could do more. I suppose I just wasn’t created to be an intense multi-talented right brain artist, but I look at the art created by the people around me, and the feeling of hopelessness cascades over my admiration. I hate it. I truly hate it. I wish I could just be happy with the gift I do have and not be so selfish as to crave more and more. Why do I feel the need to excel in everything? Why do I feel the need to bash myself when I do not succeed. I remember making my first B in third grade. I cried for days. I would not let go of the fact that I wasn’t the best anymore. I am fully aware I cannot have that mindset here. You do not have to tell me. It is just really hard to grow from my habits.

I turned ambition into something dark and evil, and it eats away at my every thought. I have this constant need to compare myself to everyone and everything, and the most ironic part is that my mind never allows me to come out on top. I suppose that is just the intelligent side of me saying “Accept that you will never be perfect.” But, that part of my head is too quiet. The ridiculous and unpleasable part likes to scream very loudly, so the gentle and logical is drowned out to a very dull murmur. It is torturous never being good enough for myself. I am so tired of never being able to fully enjoy other’s art because it is better that I can do. I honestly just want to be happy with myself. I guess that is to much to ask of myself.

I have always considered myself to be a fairly open person, with the abilty to be proud of who I am. Boy howdy though, I sure was not ready for what MSA was gonna throw at me.

There’s something about this school that’s entirely different from good ol’ Pontotoc City High School. This school is a safe place, filled with people similar to me in some way. We’re all artists , but never have the same art. while all having this artistic talent, the way we convey it is completely different from one another. Whether it be from writing style, dancing, singing, acting, drawing, filming, or anything really, we’re all talented in a unique way. truly, its incredible.

Nearly every student, I have noticed, is a part of the LGBT+ community. I myself am a member and supporter. when first coming to this school, I had a feeling there would be many of us, but I did not think it would be as prideful as it is. I love it. There is no hiding your preferences here, you have no reason to. This is not a  regular school where you’ll get bullied for being yourself. It’s a place of open-ness and community.

Now, i will say that I haven’t quite gotten used to the schedule yet. Of course, its always hard to get back into the swing of things after summer. It’s especially hard when you have 2 extra hours added on to that school schedule you’re used to. to be honest, though, time really flies in the classes I like. Film, literary, and English. Human Anatomy and Physiology is a different story.

Living-wise, I really enjoy living with multiple people. Sure, the room gets messier a lot quicker, but it also gets cleaned a lot faster too! My roomates, suite-mates, and i all seem to be getting along very well. Usually we hang out in the bathroom between our dorms, since it’s our commonplace. However, it gets a bit awkward when our floor mom walks in and sees us all watching anime on the bathroom floor.

Now, most people would want to make it less awkward after that reoccurring incident of the floor mom seeing all 5 of you watching anime in the bathroom, but we plan to do quite the opposite. We have conjured this horrible idea to implement a “Holiday Skeleton” in our room. When Halloween gets near, we plan to purchase a life size skeleton to dress up for various holidays. Christmas? throw some ornaments on the rib cage of the Holiday Skeleton. National Women’s day? put a wig on the Holiday Skeleton. Easter? put some bunny ears on the Holiday Skeleton. the Holiday Skeleton is perfect for all occasions. Truly, the day they do a random room check will be our downfall. I’m still not quite sure how were gonna explain the Holiday Skeleton. If there is a rule in the handbook next year that says “No Holiday Skeletons”, then this is why.

I guess this is my first blog post for this school year, but I’ve been going through the greatest bout of un-inspiration since the beginning of summer. Yeah, it’s not great, but I’m going to pull up my big girl pants, force myself to sit at my desk, and force myself to type. I can’t promise that it will a work of art or even something that I’ll be remotely proud of, but it will have to work for now until I can find my real inspiration.

In my bio, I said I was a dull girl. The same applies to my writing at times. Sometimes the work just never lives up to what I create in my head, or I get the feeling that it’s a huge crash and burn. But I guess I’ll have to let go of those inhibitions and just write. That’s why I’m here. I’m here to write, express myself through words, and to let go of my minor worries. In the end, my stories will be read by someone. My mom, my closest friend, a stranger, anyone who will give it a chance.

There’s a piece I’ve been working on for about two or three years now. I can never past one part of it, and that’s been daunting me. I never thought about how hard a car crash scene could be. Maybe because I’ve never been in one that I remember. Maybe when I was a baby? I’m not entirely sure really. There are parts to the story that I should probably get rid of, and that’s mostly because they aren’t really vital to the story. A bit of Mommy issues is just a bit of character development, I guess, but it’s not important to the essence of a story about a girl wanting to kill her sister over a man. So, maybe I will get rid of that part later today, and find a way to improve on that story. Develop the characters more, find a way to write the crash, and eventually finish it. The story is long overdue for an ending, so I’ll have to finish it. I’ll say it here: my goal for my junior year is to finish that story and to be content with how it turned out. Maybe one day I’ll share it in class while it’s in its infantile stage, just like I am.

I’m here to grow my skills as a writer. My end goal in life is to have at least one book published, but I don’t expect it to become a bestseller just because of how my brain works. I can be pretty pessimistic about anything I produce, but there are some stories that I will occasionally be proud of and willing to share. We will just have to see how the year turns out and see what I will produce. So with that being said, I’ll end this post with this: good luck to all the literaries here and I hope we all will meet our own goals.

i told myself I wanted to learn how to fly.

i know that sounds stupid and sure it was impossible but it was a dream.

an escape. 

a way to feel at peace, even though it was not a lick of anything but false hope.

but I told myself over and over that this was an alternative – a way out.

eventually, what started out as an innocent get away turned into an addiction.

it became something I lived and craved for, painting an entire galaxy in the back of my mind, hidden behind a dull door. 

i could do more than just fly – I was powerful.

i was loved and feared.

i stood on top of my Earth with a crown sitting crooked upon my head, a toothy grin spreading across my face.

i wasn’t me. 

however, the impossible was still the impossible regardless of what was being produced in that door at the back of my brain.

my childhood began to falter and reality began to coil around me, ripping me from what was my home.

it was the angry dragon in every fairy tale … except the dragon won this time.

there was no prince charming, no fairy god mothers, no transforming animals. 

just a child too afraid to face the outside world because there was no type of safety for her there. 

only here, where her loneliness and frustration blossomed into a sea of sunflowers, could she find safety.

only here, where no one could point out her flaws and crack open her walls, could she find comfort.

only here, where there were no IQ tests or surveys to make her brain swell and burst, could she find peace.

only here, could she find a home. 

but time after time the dragon opened it’s mouth only to heave out the tears and fear that tainted what was the only escape – the only thing that could be trusted with life.

The three of you have taken and re-attached pieces of me.

You three have been my own personal surgeons, sewing and sewing my body back together.

You three are so different and your roles in my life are too, but you’re similar in the fact that you’re important.

You aren’t just passing by, you’ve stayed. You physically, will most likely leave me one day. And that’s okay. Never feel guilty for finding new paths and new people. That’s life. I haven’t told any of you in depth about your meaning, because of that reason. I will not crumble in your absence, because you have already repaired me.

You taught me that being myself is okay. That I should apologetically be me and only me. That I’m imperfect as I come, but that’s what people should love. You have stood up for me, because I could never do that for myself. You tell me when I need to stop giving myself out to people because I can only run myself so thin. I think coffee will forever run in my veins because of you.

You have given me stability. I can be my pure self around you because you’re the same way. We can laugh until our stomachs hurt, but you still turn around and give the advice and truth no one else is willing to give. The truth can hurt, but you make sure I know that you’ll be there to back me up. I don’t thank you enough for that.

When I tell you this, I know you think I’m joking. I try to refrain from saying it because I don’t want you to feel bad about leaving. Leaving is inevitable and I get that. I understand that. People and life change so often, and I know that I won’t forever be apart of that. For now though, you’re a comfort. A reminder that someone saw me for the mess that I was, and still am, and liked it. Decided to stay with it. Again, don’t let me scare you off with this! It’s okay! I have come to terms with that I won’t forever have this. And that’s perfectly okay. I’ll have to cross that bridge when I get there. Just know that you’ve really helped me no matter if you think you have or not. When you question me about why I choose to “put up with you” it’s because you have done the same for me.

I like the idea that three is a magic number. You three have created a little magic to keep with me.

There’s a thing that the old people say,

“I’d lose my head if it weren’t attached to me.”

But my head’s not even attached to me and I’ve seemed to have lost it.

I’m continuously attempting to screw and nail it back into place with calming words and gentle lyrics.

However, my brain begins to form into iron and my calming words turn into letters with teeth that gnaw viciously at the seams of my neck which desperately want to hold my head in place.

The letters win, though.

The seams didn’t seem to fight back too hard, huh?

Wait. Maybe that was just me who eventually cut the seams from my neck and released everything.

… Now it’s too heavy and I’ve waited too late.

It tries to attach itself back onto my neck and I cry out because it was never this heavy.

Never before.

I’m fighting and I’m pushing but the skin begins to become a noose, tightening itself around my throat.

icannotbreathe icannotscream icannotspeak

I. Can’t. Brea-

…

I’m now held prisoner to my own head.

This thing I used to use to escape in order to obtain comfort.

Yes, yes! This thing right here that is now filled to the brim with danger and anger and fear.

It reaches out and snatches me back, screaming in my ears, yelling,

“Run, you stupid girl, run!”

and then it laughs.

It cackles disgustingly when I sob because we both know that I cannot.

It’s been years yet it is still. heavy. and I am still. struggling.

Forced. Forced to drag it behind me as it follows heavily along the cracked ground.

Oh, and when it feels like I want to escape?

It pulls back the skin around my throat and pulls too hard. just a little too hard. hard enough to strangle me just enough though.

afterwards, there’s nothing except I’m back where I started with my heavy head attached to my shoulders, only for me to lose it once again.

 

For some reason I thought that by the last blog of the year, I would have posted more things that actually mean something. I guess it’ll have to wait until next year.

I plan to go into this summer the person I am now and come out totally different. This year has tested me in ways that I never imagined, and I am ready to get rid of the weight it has left on my shoulders. I need a break to sit and think and have time to myself away from all of the excitement on campus.

I will travel and sleep and eat healthily this summer. I will come back whole.

Part of me does not like the person I have become this year because when I came, I thought I was as cold and sad as I could be- I was wrong. I have lost a lot this year, things that I will never be able to get back, and honestly, I don’t want them back. I have let go, and I am ready to start my new journey as the person I am now. I will miss who I was nine months ago, but I will not mourn that girl anymore. Who I am is where I have felt the most comfortable. I can order at restaurants and ask teachers for help and I don’t constantly nervous sweat anymore. Those are all things that I am happy to leave in the past. 

I am missing people from my life, and I don’t want them back. I have let go. I have cried when I was supposed to cry, and now it’s all settled. I refuse to belittle myself for someone(s) who will tell me how little I matter, not only to them, but in the grand scheme of things. I am worth so much more than that- and I’m confident enough in myself to realize that. I do not need problematic people in my life. I do not need someone who will lie and manipulate. I am better than that. I do not have to put my recovery on hold for someone who does not care about me. (I write this not only for the people that will read this, but also for myself.)

Things will be okay. Things are okay now. I will not apologize for how I feel, and how I want to make myself a better person.  I have left these people behind because I am moving forward. Far be it from me to stay in a mentality that will only harm myself and the people around me. I can leave it to that person(s).

I am ready to make new memories with old, and new, friends. I am ready to let go and finally be a whole, happy person. Life is wild and crazy, and I am so ready to experience every single part of it. Guys, we’re starting something new. We’re going to go and do things and live and have a good time. This year hasn’t beat us all the way up. I love you all, and we’ve got this. 

I hope everyone has a great summer and comes back ready to f*ck up senior year! (In a good way)        🙂

Oppression is key.

Expression is key is what I actually meant to say but I kept oppression because it just seemed more telling of the computers mental state. 

O p p r e s s i o n  vs. E x p r e s s i o n 

Oppression: prolonged cruel or unjust treatment or control.

Expression : the process of making known one’s thoughts or feelings.

It’s weird how the computer decided to change my words. Technically I did spell expression wrong, but it was only a letter difference. Something meant almost as a creative spew became the line between physical and mental. Right or wrong. 

This may not be anything that odd. Sometimes auto-correct gets its wrong. Sometimes you have to fix it yourself.

Yeah….. but what if I didn’t?

What if I continued my original direction of this blog and instead of putting  Expression I somehow skipped over the word Oppression and kept it. I know I have a habit of repeating words so  I would have put Expression instead of Oppression eventually but the damage would have already been done. No one could say that it was a mistake because I could have intended that to be like that. There is no outside force that could prove I didn’t mean it beside someone walking up and asking me what I actually meant. Because it wouldn’t have made sense. It wouldn’t have had the same message. Even then I technically could have noticed when I proof read my thing later on, but still. It’s a matter of if.

“If” is that small little word that can mean so much and I hate that. It’s always a guessing game a gamble at best and that sucks. There is no stable there is no 100% guarantee.  Just brief message of assurance we give ourselves as if something can’t change that in a matter of seconds because apparently screw the thought of not having anything certain. 

Anyway this blog go out of hand fast. What I mean to say was that sometimes things don’t go as planned and that can be frustrating and difficult to deal with if you are a person who hates things getting out of hand. This was more of a ramble of sorts because I lost my plan for this blog because my computer shut down. That in a way proved my point because how was I supposed to know my computer would shut down a minute before I finished this blog? I didn’t. This didn’t go as planned and neither does life. 

Sometimes your Expression can turn into Oppression and sometimes Oppression is the only way you can show Expression.

 

 

 

 

 

I am feeling so okay about everything, and I think it is only because I have been desensitized to all of the terrible things that have happened recently, or better yet, that I have just grown accustomed to it. I am swallowing myself whole and becoming another, just you watch me. After summer, when I come back (hopefully), things will not be like this. I am changing, and I will change. I will swallow myself whole. Just you guys watch.

There is a small piece of me that wants to fix old homes I’ve lived in- then, there is the rest of me. the rest of me is light and hollow and winged, and old me is not here anymore and it is anything but easy. It is brutally bruised into the side of my skull ( like that glass that cut into my scalp climbing from the window).

Things are going to be okay, they just, they have to. There is no questioning it anymore.

Guys, were about to start another chapter.  And it doesn’t matter how anyone feels about me, because I know how I feel about me. I don’t feel as uncomfortable, and I am starting to understand why things happen. Ill probably become religious over the summer, or read every book on my list, or go on trips by myself in search of nothing. I am different.

Life has this beautiful way of screwing us over every time we become complacent. I love it. Shaking things up in this fishbowl of a high school career is always needed. I am so ready to be shaken like the plates of the earth hand have to jump to the next great adventure in my life.

People come and go and change and writhe and blend and become, and it is beautiful. There is a lot of love and hate in that.

Love is peculiar and comes in different forms; sometimes it is not always approachable or tangible. Sometimes you just feel it. I’ve maybe not done everything right this year, but at least I did something. That is more than I can say for every year behind me combined. I have lived t his year, I have taken and given and learned and hurt along the way; I’ve never been more thankful for my let downs and mistakes, because it has taught me to believe in myself even when no one else does. To stay true and follow my arrow. To just, Be.

This life is a giving and taking thing.

Right now, all I know is, you just have to take it easy.

My mom told me something last year when I was hating my situation, she said: Grow where you are planted.

I think I finally understand that now.

A comic I’ve been working on this past month for my mix media final. This is the first comic I’ve made that is larger than a comic strip so it’s not super great, but yeah. Click on the images to read. The pages are captioned because my handwriting is a mess. Content warnings: Hints of underage substance abuse and mentions of self harm.