Category: Junior Literary

I hope this blog finds you well, and if it does not, that the next one will find you better. Recently, I wrote and gave a TedTalk for my class, Practicum in Literary Arts;  a few of my peers expressed that they were moved by it, so I wanted to share it here, just incase somebody out in the world needs to hear it.

Trigger Warning: Discussion of depression, suicidal ideation, and suicide.

Before we start, I would like you to watch the first two and a half minutes of a TedTalk, actually. If you have time afterwards, or even now, I would highly recommend watching the entire thing; it’s really powerful stuff.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=D1QoyTmeAYw

The speaker is named Mark Henick, and I stumbled across him at the age of thirteen, when I reached my first of many valleys caused by my depression. I wouldn’t be diagnosed until the week after my seventeenth birthday, but even then, I had the distinct feeling that something was wrong with me, that I didn’t navigate the world like other people did. Though it took me years to process how this discussion affected me, I found myself crying into my unwashed pillows for what felt like the dozenth time that week.

I lost a large part of my life to convincing myself that there was something irrevocably wrong with me, that I had to be a blip in the world because there was no way that people were expected to live like this. I made a habit of observing everyone around me, and each time I noticed a genuine laugh, or that flicker in someone’s eye when they are taking a moment to appreciate where they are, it felt like a slap in the face. I crawled into myself, the person I despised the most, and bitterly questioned why I couldn’t just be happy and normal, why I couldn’t just want to live. Having someone verbalize a feeling as overwhelming as suicidal ideation provided me with a sense of relief, but it also infected my mind with a new anxiety.

Nobody suspected me, and for a while, I didn’t know to suspect other people of feeling the same way I did. All across America, millions of people were in the dark, isolating trenches of this mental illness with me, and here I was, naively telling myself that I was the exception, that I was broken far beyond repair, that my illness made me a burden.

When you have clinical depression, it feels like a second nature to tell yourself that while other people in the same situation deserve to live, but you don’t. That they will recover, but you won’t ever be able to. That they deserve health and happiness, but you don’t. Perhaps it comes from the subtle narcissism that we all possess, or our inability to see the world outside our dark, tightly closed bubbles of perception, but this attitude of being the exception in circumstances like these can be deadly. After hearing Henick’s talk, I spent entire nights falling down the rabbit hole of suicide survivor stories, obsessively listening to them recount their experiences and how they came out from it. I felt proud of them, like a teammate on the sidelines watching their friend score the winning point, but one thought ran incessantly through my mind: “That’ll never be me.”

Because I know my story may not be enough to inspire you into believing that you’ve got a chance, I won’t talk about myself anymore. I’m going to talk about you.

I don’t think I need to give you the spill about your loved ones missing you, we all know that part of it, but I do want to emphasize something to you. With the way film and media has portrayed, we as a generation have the subconscious notion that we will bear witness to the aftermath of our own self destruction. Countless series depict victims of suicide as spirits or hallucinations who return to their communities to guide their loved ones as they grieve. I don’t know you, or what you believe in, so it’s unfair of me to say what will or will not happen to you after you pass. However, I will be bold enough to give this general statement: you will not come back as yourself. This is not some corny Netflix drama. You will not roam the halls of your high school, talking to your peers who miss you, or offering advice to your friends when they deal with the complications of your suicide. You will not observe people’s reactions to your death, then decide whether or not you want to ‘follow the light’ or undo your decision. You will be eternally separated from this plane of existence and from everyone and everything who adores and needs you.

Your friends and family will not be the only people mourning you. It’ll be the college roommate who your friend sobs in agony to after they accidentally played your favorite song. It’ll be the friend of a friend who puts his hand over his heart when he sees the empty chair left for you at graduation. It’ll be a coworker asking around the office why your father looks so distraught every time he glances at the framed photograph of you on his desk. It’ll be your first love’s fiancée finally hearing the real reason they don’t like talking about those who came before her. It’ll be the junior who asks the class who’s mug has been sitting untouched since the beginning of the year. It’ll be the parents trying to coax their child out of bed after she spent the past week crying into the hoodie you loaned her on a rainy day, and it’ll be her unknowing brother asking why he hasn’t seen you around the house lately. It’ll be the new neighbor who notices your pets lying in the living room, patiently waiting to hear the sound of you tossing your shoes into the corner of the hallway. It’ll be anyone and everyone who interacts with the people you care about after you’re gone. You’ll be cheating them out of the privilege to know you as the radiant person you are instead of the occasional reminder of a dreary statistic.

But, it’s not just about them. It’s about you, and it’s about how you will rob yourself of all of the pockets of joy in your life. You’ll never watch your favorite shows in search of nostalgia, nor will you see the glow on your parents’ face when you agree to start watching that new series with them. These complex, important characters you dreamed up will never have their stories told, and you won’t feel the satisfaction of completely submerging yourself in a story. Your usual spot at the treasured, local restaurant will sit empty and cold, and never again will you feel the strain of suppressing the smile that forms on your face when the pretty waitress remembers your order. You will not be able to gaze at the face of your soulmate and wonder how someone could be so beautiful. You won’t laugh until your sides ache and your lungs are left empty. You won’t feel warm sunlight grazing your skin on chilly mornings, nor will you rest in the shadow of a large, seemingly endless tree. You won’t watch your siblings nor your children experience those big life moments, and you won’t be able to congratulate your loved ones when they accomplish the things they never thought they could do.

There will be no more long car rides with your best friend, nor will the two of you ever sing karaoke together again. No more smile lines and flushed cheeks. No more of the adrenaline that pumps through your veins when your favorite artist is about to come on stage at a concert. No more peeking around your classmate’s heads in the lunch line to see what food the cafeteria workers are serving. No more intertwined fingers and stolen glances. No more of your roommate waking you up to watch the sunrise, nor the sunset. No more music, and no more dancing alone in the bathroom to your favorite songs. No more you.

If I can say anything to you, it’s that you are worthy of these things and everything else that brings you joy. You deserve every ounce of happiness that you have and will attract in your existence. You are not baggage, nor are you simply the extra weight on someone else’s shoulders You are not a stain on the lives of others, and you are not hampering anyone by existing in shared spaces with them. The people in your life care for you deeply, even and especially, when what you’re dealing with is straining your relationships with them. They want you here with them, and they’ve never thought of you as a mistake, or a burden. I want you here, and so does everybody else reading this post.

I know how difficult it is for you to believe these things, and that’s okay. I’m not asking you to change your entire perception after a five minute conversation, but I am asking you to take the small step of reminding yourself that you do hold value in the world, and that you will miss so, so many things if you chose to end your life here. It feels impossible, I’m sure, but if you just keep going, one day, I promise, you’re going to reflect on where you are in life and say to yourself, “I didn’t know I could be this happy.” And trust that you will feel happy again. You will find yourself and set a path for yourself in the world. Your life will be fulfilling, and you will do meaningful things in your lifetime. You will evolve far beyond from the person you are in this valley, and your circumstances will change for the better. Slowly, you’ll begin to recover, and life won’t seem inescapable anymore. Seek professional help, if that’s an option for you, and if it isn’t, just talk to somebody, anyone who can provide you with compassion and support. The world is rooting for you to live the long, beautiful life you were meant to have, so while you’re in the valley, or in the darkest of perception bubbles, remind yourself what you’d be sacrificing and of the things you’ll miss.

It’s gotten to that point in the year were even the things you used to enjoy seem to be strenuous tasks.  I feel like I’m not alone when I say I’m experiencing end of the year burnout.  I’m not taking care of myself as much as a should and my work is taking longer and longer to complete.  Self care?  Have you seen her, cause I sure haven’t.  I’ve been suffering from a stubborn case of pneumonia so that sure hasn’t helped my energy levels. 

I know I’m supposed to offer something but this is for myself too.

• Wash your hair
• Stop isolating yourself
• Vent to people who care
• Take breaks
• Listen to music
• Watch your comfort videos
• Snuggle your stuffed animals
• Refrain from throwing hands with that person who keeps pissing you off
• Eat food
• Hang out with your friends
• Leave the school once in a while (Or your house)
• Sit with someone during meals

Hopefully this is helpful to anyone else suffering a burnout.  You can do it, I believe in you!

Often I wonder, “what’s ahead?” As an overthinker and a person who tends to live in their head where anything I desire Is real, I think about my future a lot. I think about other people’s future a lot. I think seemingly non-stop or at least until my breaths slow and my eyes shut for the few hours of sleep I manage to get.

Just last night, April 26, 2021, the night of the pink moon, my roommate and I got into one of our many nightly discussions. These nightly talks usually consist of how our day was then lead into any and every topic. We usually have to stop each other from talking when we realize we’ve been talking for far too long.

On this particular night, I was sitting in my bottom bunk bed and she was sitting at her computer mustering up motivation to complete work. Little things like that is what I’m going to miss most about my life at MSA.

Room 402 will be missed and the memories it holds for me. The door handle takes a certain finesse to open it. At any given moment, you’re sure to hear me playing music and softly singing along. It smells faintly of citrus and lavender upon entrance, but more often then not, the smell of food overbears it. Both my roommate and I  like to operate on full stomachs.

I’ve mentioned my roommate in previous blogs, but I can’t help but mention her again. Not to brag, but I have thee best dressed senior of the class of 2021 as my roommate. I love it here!  She has seen me cry more times than I’d liked to admit and each time she would offer me comfort as best as she knew how.

We’ve given each other motivation speeches often throughout the school year. She has really made my first year at MSA go smoothly. I hope to be as gracious and generous as she is my senior year. I admire her and all of her many talents.

Probably Standing by the snack desk,

Taylor Noelle (1/2 of ROOM 402)

*I forgot my room number, hopefully this is the right one, if not, lets pretend friends. It’s been a long week lol 🙂

Oh man, has gotten back into video editing been a doozy. I forgot just how time-consuming it was, but I also forgot how FUN it was! I remember back when I was a kid making little videos and memes on iMovie using the family computer. It was a different and more carefree time back then.

I spent around 20 hours editing this video in total, and man, the final product sure is… something. In short, I definitely still have a lot of work to do in the practice department. Anyway, I was told I could keep this short, so enjoy the video! It was also posted on Rise, so make sure to support the magazine as well! 🙂

for lack of a better term, it’s been a hell of a year. it simultaneously feels like it’s been 4 years in one and just yesterday i was unlocking my door here for the first time. i longed for this school for a year and a half before i arrived, tugging at every ounce of it i could manage. i remember coming to my papaw’s house down here, then the biggest smile rushing to my cheeks as i saw the side of the SLC in passing. i knew i would be here when the time came, and as my intuition often goes, i was right.

this year has been amazing. i made some of the best friends anyone could ever ask for – the kind who want the best for you, no matter what – the kind who see past your flaws and love you anyways – the kind who spot you when you need it, and the kind who know they can come to you no matter what. i won 4 submission opportunities, put works in the school’s literary journal, printed a collection of my poetry and sold 15 copies, and experienced a lot of “firsts…” and “lasts.” i’ve loved a lot, maybe more than is healthy for me, but it’s the truth. 

i’ve also lost. i lost more than 15 literary journal submissions, i lost a bond i thought would last much longer than it did, and i think i lost my fair share of hair clumps from stress in the process. my grades and mental health began to slip before halfway through the year, and just as i was picking myself back up, the realization set in: half of the amazing friends i made this year… are leaving.

come august, my snap maps will have bitmojis scattered from new orleans to new york, and of course i’m excited for them and their journeys, but part of me is terrified of how empty the halls will feel without them. it may be different if this were any other school – if i knew the majority of them would be at the local community college for at least 2 years to come, within close enough proximity to not miss them so much. i’ve spent more nights than i’d like to admit crying over the possibility of losing touch with all the people i love.

but, as the cookie crumbles, i know next year will likely be so much worse – being the one leaving this town, on to something better. i’ll likely join my best friends (hello ayden and madalynn) at mississippi state, but maybe i won’t. maybe i’ll go to the u********* of m*ss*ss*pp* and check out their writing program, stray a little farther from home. maybe i’ll say “screw it” and take a spot at LSU, leaving everything in mississippi behind.

in any case, i’ll be off this campus. i won’t be studying behind the column of cooper like i know i’m not supposed to. i won’t be reminiscing bittersweet memories on the side-steps of JI, i won’t be pouring my heart into a google doc on the second floor. wherever i am, i won’t be here, and that scares me to no end. 

Mister oh mister won't you come and play? 
Please oh please - it’s such a pleasant day. 
I cast off my name and you cast off yours.
Then we call for each other and we live here no more. 

A child gently dances down an elegant hallway, quietly singing and humming to themselves. They hold their stuffed animal in front of them, dangling it in the air, both of them dancing to the nursery rhyme. The fox’s fur is faded, it’s head flopping as they dance, as the stuffing in his neck and middle are flat from being hugged and held. 

As tense as a deer the child freezes,  jerking their head to stare at the back of the only door in the hallway. The clicking sound of a key turning seems to echo through the hall. The old silver handle starts to open but pauses, the voices inside barely slipping through the pause. 

As frantic as a rabbit, the child runs to the nearest portrait, one of a small girl in a light blue and white ruffled dress. In a silent, rushed but practiced motion, the child shoves their toy fox into their mouth and reaches up on their tiptoes to pull the portrait girl’s long, light blue hair ribbon. A small click to be heard as something from behind the picture swooshes open. The child steps on the rim of a fern plant’s pot to jump and grab the top of the picture frame, swinging themselves into the canvas and disappearing into the wall.

The child quickly moves to slide the small hidden door close, halting to leave a small gap of light shining into the dark space inside the walls. The child peeps out to see a tall, heavy set, wide built man silently dart in and out of the forbidden room - doing so much faster than seemed possible for a man of his stature. The man stepped close to the door and shoved an incredibly large worn wooden key into the incredibly small silver key hole with an almost violent twist. 

The house held its breath. The man released his. With clam, gentle movements the man purposely removed the key. Glancing up and down the hall for reassurance that he was alone, the man raised the large key to his face. The man’s jaw twitched as he leaned his head back. He opened his mouth, his lips parting beyond, all the way to his ears. Saliva, dripping off of his tentacle-like tongues and knife-sharp jagged teeth. The man lifted the key above his head. His tongues slipped over the key like snakes. As soon as the man let go of the key it jerked into his mouth, his head whipping closed back to looking normal. The man rolled out his shoulders before fixing his coat and leaving the hall with a brisk pace. 

So, I was a Junoir helper for  Literary Seniors Morgan Love‘s and Kaite Spiers‘s Senior Showcase this past Monday. A good bit of their wonderful writing was Surrealism. My little sisters have also been watching shows that tend to put things past the point of normal. I also watched the movie, Miss Peregrine’s Home for Peculiar Children, recently I think it has affected my writing. What I have written above is an experiment. So hope ya’ll like it. 

“I can’t breathe.” was a phrase heard around the nation on May 26,2020. This phrase was chanted throughout protests turned ‘riots’ all due to an incident that started with a supposed counterfeit $20 bill on May 25,202o outside of a Minneapolis corner store.

George Floyd was a father, a brother, an uncle, a son, a partner and so much more. But, on May 25, 2020 the police officers who were called to respond to a possible counterfeit $20 dollar bill saw him less than human. Video shows the last moments of Floyd’s life that all but sparked backlash and a swift need for justice.

For 9 minutes and 29 seconds, Derek Chauvin (ex Minneapolis cop) kneeled on the neck of George Floyd as Floyd pleaded for his “Mama” and continuously repeated the phrase “I can’t breathe”.  The other three officers (Thomas Lane, J.Keung, and Tou Thao) did nothing to stop Chauvin nor help Mr. Floyd. Bystanders and people of the forming crowd around the incident pleaded for Chauvin to stop and even offered to help George Floyd in his plea for air.

The total lack of humanity and care gave the nation enough fuel to make changes until big ones came. Even during a deadly pandemic, people marched for justice for Floyd and many others. Even today, they are still marching.

March 29, 2021 is the day the case of Minneapolis v Chauvin for the death of George Floyd started. I’ve been sure to follow this case since I first heard about it. Testimony from the witnesses, both defense and prosecution, stirred emotion and provided insight into the trauma witnessed the day of George Floyd’s death. The ages for witness start as young as 9 years old. 

Throughout the entire trial, Chauvin spoke only once. He only spoke to use his 5th amendment right, of not testifying. Other than that, he was shielded behind a face mask due to the pandemic keeping a calm demeanor as he awaited his fate.

The jury took a little over 10 hours to come to a conclusion of Chauvin’s fate. He was found guilty on all 3 counts he was charged with which are, 2nd-degree unintentional murder, 3rd-degree murder, and 2nd-degree manslaughter.

Today, April 2o, 2020, justice has been given to the family of George Floyd. Justice has been shown to the United States people. Accountability for careless and deadly actions by Derek Chauvin was given. But, even in the midst of this small judicial victory, black Americans are still being slain by the police as if it comes in their job description.

Today is a small win but not the end of the road. The fight must continue. We will take this day to rest and continue the protests tomorrow. As a black person, we can never enjoy small victories too often because something usually follows behind it. 

I am happy to see justice being served rightfully after being denied many times before.

With a hoping heart for justice,

Taylor Noelle

This is somewhat of a controversial issue. If you are easily offended, then this might not be the best blog for you.

As most people know, I am a woman athlete.  The issue has risen of letting trans women play women sports.  While I completely support trans people and whoever they would like to be seen as, it just is not fair to cis women.  

Trans women in high school are typically not on hormones, which means they have the strength of a full man.  No one would let a man play women’s sports.  While they are a female they have the biological strengths and advantages of a man.  Even if they are on hormones they still have the strength and height they gained during their time as a man, and despite our best medical technology we are currently unable to change it.

A good example I think of is a female high school wrestling champion.  She had been champion for like 3 years in a row, when a trans women was entered she completely creamed the previous champion. This kind of thing would not happen if she didn’t have some kind of advantage.

Biology and differences go down to our very bone structure between the two sexes.  People with XY chromosomes are typically much stronger and taller than people with XX chromosomes.  Even women who train their whole lives to be strong still fail to compare to most men, even those who are not that active. It is all down to chemicals, men have more muscle building hormones and therefore can build more muscles with considerably less effort.  

It is not an easy decision, no matter what the call is, someone will be treated unfairly.  The best idea is probably to just let kids in high school play with their birth gender and for professional just have a different category for them.  It just wouldn’t be fair to the millions of cis women athletes to give them competitors that have so much of an advantage over them.  It’s really how to be fair to more people.  It sucks but there really is no way to make it fair for cis women if trans women can compete with them.  So you have to make it fair to the majority.

As a women athlete I just want the competition to be fair for us, that’s the whole reason sports are not co-ed after kids go through puberty.  It is similar to a women on steroids, it’s not fair and is ban in sports, it is the same type of thing.  Hopefully in the future our medical advances will make it so there is no advantages that trans women have, and then it would be fair if they can compete.  However we simply are not there yet.  

I am not trying to attack trans people. I respect people and their gender identity. I know some of this might not seem fair, but it really is all down to science.