Boys and Girls Ultimate: State Championships
Teams must qualify
It’s been like this ever since I met you. I remember it so well. I can still feel his big hands grabbing at my sides, taking me from the jungle-jim. That next day I saw you; you didn’t question anything about what happened. You didn’t act differently or treat me differently. You just acted as if it was the same as the day before, which I liked. You made me happy, with you I didn’t have to think to make up excuses to where I was. Or how I got those bruises. You accepted me even after you knew everything that you did. Do you remember when we were younger; every Monday night we would meet up at this same exact spot? We’d just lay here and talk. Tell each other the stupid gossip we heard in school. Make fun of the popular kids and their ridiculous haircuts. (Releases a sigh of remembrances of old memories) I loved the way it smelled. When the dew and just set on the cold nights grass. Can’t you just picture it all now? You’ve been there from the beginning of it all. The only person that knows me inside out like this is you. Yet somehow you haven’t judged me.. yet(looks up at him and wipes her eyes)
Yo get up time for school” aww shit its 7:30 already? Yea its Wednesday and it’s the my least favorite class Spanish and oh boy how I hate Spanish. I tell my mom that I will not be going today but of course my mom said I think you will. Jumping out of bed brushing my teeth and getting dress and doing that other carp. Garbing my lunch to rush out the door before am late again my mom tells me that its cool out and I need a jacket and she can’t afford to get sick and other bull crap that I zone out to hear. “ You hear me” yea I said every word. I walking out the door and my bus am right on time pull out my transpass ready to get on. Doors up I look to my left and not a goddamn seat in sight. I walk to the back of the bus where I could squeeze my self in and stand. When we got to the next station this one fine look-in chick got on the bus just about the whole but was stunned. You could hear this boy in the back say “Danmmmmm I hit. Now is not the one to go crazy in public over a girl but she was pretty hot. So hot that I missed my stop and hade to walk down to school. Looking at the clock its 8:10 I am late. I run up to the third floor and tip toe in the door. My so call friends David yells “ Shawn why you late? Like the ass he is I hade no choice but to come in. the first thing Mr. Green ask me is “Shawn why are you late to my class?” I had to think in my head for a sec tell him I got off the wrong stop daydreaming bout a girl or lie and say woke up late. Yea is going to go with woke up late. Late you say?? This is this been happen a lot for the past few days are you sure your not trying to get on time? . Yea is sure. I sit down and take my seat. Think at least I did my homework. Pull it out my book bag. He goes around checking the homework until he get to me now normally he doesn't look like he even check it but for some reason as soon as it gets to me he reads it like it some mid term paper. Shawn Mr. Green says “You have a few answers wrong you need to re do this Ill give you some credit for doing it. All that was running threw my mind is this guy hates me. Time is going by and the class is so coming to an end and only on thing is on my mind run and get out as quick as possible. Class was dismissal and he say and “Shawn” right as I darted to the door we need to talk. The class leaves and he explains to me that I don’t respect him as a teacher. He talks on and on but I don’t care he hates me and I hate him so in the end I don’t really care. On my way to lunch the counselor sit next to my while I eat my lunch. Trying to ignore her to and finish my sandwich she says” Shawn I hear you’re not doing so well in Spanish and if you need any help am here for you. I just wanted to talk about some thing about your teacher Mr. green. Did you know back then Mr. green was a really bad student at Spanish. I stop eating for a moment and try to process what just happen, him bad at Spanish? yea right. Its true she said it turns out he was bad I guess him and I aren’t son different but I still hate him. But the last thing she said really got me it turns out that he didn’t like his Spanish teacher. She walks away I just want to make sure you knew. A couple of my friends show up yo” Shawn you want skips school? Nah I just remembered I forgot something in Spanish you guys go with out me
I woke up that morning with a migraine and an ill temper. Fleeing from the cold world outside of my warm blankets, I hopped into the shower. My thoughts drifted as the hot water stimulated my comatose brain. I have to get out. I have to eat. I have to get on the fetid train. I have to go to my cubicle. I have to talk to my idiot boss. I have to converse with my idiotic coworkers.
I got out of the shower. Cold again, the world was very cold, I thought. I went over to the dresser in my bedroom threw my clothes on, and swallowed two or three aspirin. Breakfast that day seemed to take much longer than it should have. The smell of the food was nauseating, and my coffee tasted like sewage. In retrospective, I probably should have eaten at that food cart outside of work, the one run by the Indian guy with the scar.
I stepped out the front door of my apartment building and waited for the bus in the cold. I climbed on to the bus, sat down, and closed my eyes. I think of the places I would rather be.
I am in a desert, the wind blowing sand into my face. I am flying, high over the Atlantic Ocean. I am in space, as big as the universe, with as much mass as a thousand black holes. All of these thoughts ran through my brain. If only I was, but no, I was still on the bus on my way to my job.
Twenty-second and Market, time to get off the bus. I hesitated before my foot hit the pavement. As soon as my foot hits the pavement I am committing to going to this job, I thought (sigh). I could have stayed on the bus, but I got off. My parents raised me to be this spineless. They were both stupid, I thought, and because of it I’m spineless, like a Jellyfish… Like a Jellyfish... The phrase seemed to repeat for some reason. My mind began to drift again, visions of jellyfish swimming, bobbing around my head. The bus drives away, and I start walking to work, Jellyfish following me.
I walked up to my building and take a deep inhale, as if I’m about to dive into a lake. I waved nonchalantly to the security guard, and forced a smile. Forcing a smile was a terrible idea. Smiling when I don’t want to makes me feel terrible, and honestly, forced smiles make me want to cry. I kept myself together until I got on the elevator. Fortunately, I was in pretty early, and now one saw what transpired.
By the time I reached my floor, I ran to the bathroom and started weeping uncontrollably. I tried to control myself but it was too late. I sat and stared at the wall, thinking about killing myself. I was just another gear in a big machine. Just a useless piece of society that could be replaced if it broke, that’s all I was. I ran out of my building and hailed a cab. Later that day I called my boss and told him I was sick. Then I drank till I was sick.
Anyway, that’s all that happened. Thanks for listening doctor, I’ll See you again next week at the same time? Okay, good.
“Yo Spit! Where you at?” Blast in my ears
(Huffs) The desert is dry and deserted like the inside of my head, my soul, and my body. “Yo Spit! Where you at?”(Echoes in my head still) I know my damn name. I’m a young girl, with chipped nail polish, ashy feet, curled up toes with sand particle in between them (Looks at her feet). I have burnt color skin, thick, tangled hair, with scars that can run on for miles (rubs her face, and body). It’s dry out here, nothing to do. It seems so free, free enough to be me. I’m trapped. Abandoned with my own self. (Scratches head) So die, to die, no water, why not die? A young savage, a young failure, a young loser (deep breathe). Still the words “Yo Spit! Where you at?” lingers in my head.
I’m by myself so why not die? No mother! No more hitting, no more scars. No more red leakage from my busted face, and body. Life moves in slow motion as I try to get away from my mother tight grip, and cigarette smoke. I’m trapped. No daddy! No more dope dealing, selling my body, and making money the fast way. My daddy taught me how to do it all, I make a buck fifty an hour. No more pain? Pain, oh I know pain.
I’m trapped. No more friends! No stealing, robbing, killing, hurting people. My crew and I have people shaking. What we want, we get. But still, I’m trapped. No uncle! He loves me, he tells me everyday. He lays me down, and does things I don’t like, but he loves me. I’m trapped. (Counts on fingers) I got me, myself, and I got my desert. I’m trapped. I want to stay trapped. I have to come out sometime. Because these damn words won’t leave my head “Yo Spit! Where you at?”
Back to my mom, dad, friends, and uncle. Back to scars, dope, prostitution, and stealing. I portray a life I don’t want. My desert will be here, my closet, under my bed, my roof, and inside a box. My desert is everywhere life isn’t hurting me. Oh! My desert will be here. Ready for the next girl, that can’t stand to look at her self in the mirror. Prepared for the next boy, that gets abused, and have black eyes, and deep bloody cut marks. Setup for the next teen, which lives a life of hurt. I am a young girl that hates her life. I’m trapped in reality, with everyone and everything I hate. (Balls fist up) So die, to die, why not die? (Tear)
It’s been like this since my dad died but that doesn’t matter because that was then and this is now. We are being evicted and there is nothing I can do. “Felix, Felix!” my sister yells. She doesn’t need to know any of this so I rip the paper off quickly and stuff it in my pocket. I need to keep what’s going on with the house to myself. She is only eight so I don’t want her to be sucked into the world that I’m in. The world where all you think about is where the next meal is going to come form or if you’ll have to give your meal to your siblings. I wish my mom had done that for me. No I was basically born into this world that few people know about. I have to go to work for four hours then I bring home dinner, four double cheeseburgers and four fries. My mom doesn’t eat she just stares at the ceiling. How can she be so docile? Doesn’t she know we are in trouble? She must’ve seen the notice so why isn’t she freaking out like I am? Why isn’t she showing any emotion? I start getting angry so I walk out the door with my fries. The salt somehow soothes me and keeps me from making any crazy decisions. I also think of my dad when I eat fries since it was him that got me hooked. It reminds me of a time where I didn’t have to worry about food and my dad took care of every thing. I remember a time when my parents and I were all happy, but that was then and this is now. I walk back in a take a big breath (breath). My brother is in his room but my sister is in the living room playing with her dolls. I guess she is making a lot of noise because my mom finally does something she yells at my sister.
My anger reappears and I’m out of fries. Nothing is controlling my anger and her yelling was getting louder. How dare she yell at my sister! She hasn’t token of my sister in years now she thinks she can yell at my sister! My fist, are clenching and I feel like I’m going to throw up. I step in between of my mom and sister. I tell my sister to go into her room but she is still in shock from the yelling. My mom is yelling at me now asking who am I to tell my sister what to do. My mom is now targeting me but this is more physical. She’s push and slapping and calling me all kinds of names until I snap. I push her on the couch and tell her to stop; I tell her that I’m the one taking care of this family. My eyes are watering. I
I’m shouting now. “Did you even notice we are being evicted!!! We could be out on the streets in days and it’s your fault!!! Do you even care about us?” but I know the answer. I know what she is going to say but instead of words she hits me. Maybe it was all the stress from the eviction or maybe it was the built up anger but before I knew it I hit her back.
She’s shocked and I’m shocked but I’m surprised by what she does next. She leaves, she gets up and leaves. As the door slams I turn around to see my brother and sister looking at me in fear. Why? I’m the one who has been taking care of them me not my mother. Now that she has left nothing has changed I am still the one who has to get up at 5:30 am so and iron my siblings clothes. I am still the one who has to go to work for hours after school. I am still the one paying the bills. I look at their faces and I know that they have just been brought into the world that I’ve lived in for years. The world of fear.
Well doc it all started that one-day when I was patrolling the corner of 12th and Rooney I was just getting off my shift. I sat down in one of the out side seats and had my self a cup of coffee. I remember because I ordered a medium and, I got a small, so I made her send it back. If I only knew what was going to happen next I would have kept the coffee, and would have not have gotten mad over it. So she was on her way sending the coffee back. I lit a cigarette, and start to smoke it.
All of the sudden this man with a ski mask come running out of a bank with a bag of money, runs into the coffee shop and takes everyone hostage. I sit there in a shock, my cigarette drops from my mouth into the coffee. The only thing I can think of is what is this, man, this psycho going to do to these people in this coffee shop. So then next thing I do is stand up and call for back up. But before I could call backup waitress make a run for it but as she got to the door the man shoots the waitress in the back of the head. She fall face first out the front door. She just was lying there with a hole in her head, and covered with her own blood. This is the first time in my career that I have seen any one get shot like that. I was sick to my stomach and was about to puke but I held my head up, and took it as it was. I yelled at him saying “come out with your hands up this is your last chance for you to give up or it will be by force.” Then all of the sudden the back up comes. I turn around to explain the situation, and I got shot in the arm from the guy, blind shooting out the front door. A tear comes running down my face. I start to think about my wife and kids, and all of my accomplishments vanishing into thin air. I start to black out and I feel numb, is this death? I was thinking to myself, or am I still alive. The next thing I noticed is a bright light and I think I’m in heaven because I see my kids and wife, but I focus more, and I’m is a hospital, I turn on the news, and the anchors said that they caught the bank robber, and that was my moment of peace and the feeling of accomplishment.
It’s cool! I don’t trip!
Dest, how could you do this to me? How could you let this happen? I thought you cared about me! You said we were like twins, I guess you really meant it. I should have been Sadie, but No! I was lil’ Dest. When we were young, we did everything together. You told me so many things; you opened up so many doors for my one set mind. You were a sweet little girl. Always smiling, laughing, acting like a kid. I admired everything you did.
Then, you changed. Dressing, talking, and acting differently. You started to tell me that the only way I’m going to get with a cute boy is if I dress like this: tight clothing, low cut shirts, shirts with the belly hanging out, hip jeans, and make-up. All this and we were only in the 5th grade remember running around in Meade schoolyard. You were right though it worked, even though my boys weren’t real cute but they were okay. Then we got even older, 7th graders, we stop talking. I wasn’t good enough for you, so I changed started mocking you and all the other girls. By 8th grade we were cool again, twins. We went everywhere together, did everything together! Started sneaking out of school to go see boys that I didn’t even know! Letting them feel on me even though I didn’t want them to. You did so I did!
That’s when I met him! That boy who sees me on the train but don’t even say hi. After all I gave him, all he gives back is nasty gleams. It doesn’t bother me that much any more. It still hurts me seeing him with girls, he never took the time out to be with me. It wasn’t even two weeks after it happened and he was already seeing somebody else. But it’s cool. I don’t trip.
I’m in high school now. So many people around me are saints. So many people never had that experience. They’ll judge me if I told them. Some people know, but I know they judged me. Just by the look on their faces when I told them. But it’s cool. I don’t trip. LIES! It’s starting to hit me, HARD! (Punches fist) I wish I could go back in time and do it all over. So many things that could of happened because I was a rookie. It didn’t even occur to me then, I had faith in him because you said “He knows what he’s doing.”
I blame you for everything. It’s your fault I’m in this state now. That day plays over and over every time I go there, Allegheny. Every time I see their faces. I’m embarrassed. I was embarrassed then and I’m embarrassed now. I remember sitting on that step 2:00 in the afternoon, I didn’t know who step it was. I didn’t even know the area; I didn’t even know that person. Yet I was waiting for him to come and get me. I was alone, I should have been in school, but I was there. You weren’t a phone call away either, you were gone bye-bye. Sun beaming down on my back, then his voice “Yo”. My smile, his smile, his hand, and his muscles pulling me off that step. The walk across the street, front door squeak open, squeak closed, his dad cooking, stairs squeaking, door closing, plop on the mattress, music videos, and then the black screen.
The moment his hand touch my thigh, my heart started to pound. I could feel my face get heated, it was on fire. My body started to shake, and then his voice “ Don’t be nervous”. He got closer, dead in my face. He reached his hand out and touched my face. At first it was a kiss, next came the tongue. He laid me down and started to kiss my body. I suddenly blacked out from the panic. When I opened my eyes I was naked. How shameful I felt, I wanted to cry. He pulled down his pants, boxers and all. His body touched mines. I wanted it to stop so badly but I didn’t, I let it happen because I wanted to please you. I wanted to be grown up for you, because you told me too.
All the things I did for you! But what did you give me in return? Nothing. Nothing at all! Oops I lied, you gave me shame, and you gave me the reason to walk with my head down. You’re the reason why I’m so easy. You’re the reason why, why, why … I… No, no it can’t be! No, I can’t stop it. I can’t take control of my life. I been brain washed by her. Oh my, I don’t want to believe this but I must. I can say no! It’s my fault because I refuse to say NO! I refused!
“ Why? Why can’t you leave me be in peace? I hear your voice; you’re in the water, the trees, and the very air around me! Your voice calls out to my soul the part of me that still belongs to you. “Hazy Hazy” you call Stop! Stop I say! Please let me go! Let go of the world that so brutally let go of you. Eclipse I felt you die, I felt your blood soak through my very bones. I held you as the light, that warm silver light that lit my eternal flame, I watched helplessly as it went out never to light again. Is that why you cannot leave me? Are you too worried about my well being? I’m fine I tell you I no longer blame myself for your death. Eclipse I love you but I’ve found someone who can put warmth in words and touch. You no longer have the warmth of the living. The warmth I crave at night when the chill mountain air seeps through my covers. I’ve found a voice that makes my heart race with happiness. Shouldn’t you be happy for me? No matter what changes I will never forget you. I’m begging you from the very depths of my being to move on. Move on and let me be, when you go I will make sure you live on. The sky we once flew in on bright sunny days still holds the memory of our laughter as you turn left and never right. Eclipse its time to take that first right turn. I will move on with you I will protect and revive your memory. I have strength enough for the both of us now. So go ahead move on in your new life, I’ll be fine. I’ve found love again my fire reignited and I’m ready to move on. Though I’m still afraid to move on with out you, when you leave I will be sure to feel the rightness of moving on. Are you worried for your brother? Roziel’s ok now, he’s found his way in life and he two is slowly moving on. Are you ready? Go on then and move on in to the after life. Fly through the bright amber skies and await your family. We will met again one day and when we do you’ll find a happy life with us once more. Move on and let our once intertwined spirits float freely. Good-bye and thank you for the life you helped me keep. I will love and cherish your memory for the rest of my days.”
"Unit 3 is over and no more benchmarks”
I should be happy right? Well I’m not.
I am not usually happy when I'm in this class or sleep, one or the other.
"Do we have to do this, is there any other options"?
"No none miss Parker no other options just your monologues"
I wonder why do we have do this, how will the benefit me if I know how to write a paper about people's conversations.
"You guys have until Wednesday to have almost a completed draft in class"
I’m pretty upset at this point, I don't understand the project and on top of that I don't want to do it, I'm such a busy person I have dance, friends, family, I have a life.
This project was assigned Friday and is due Wednesday, should be enough time right.
Well seems to me like this was over night, I can with all the other homework's also I feel like I have no time to do this.
Friday night, the night the assignment was given instead on planning what I should do I stayed on the computer on a chat until 3 in the morning.
"Maybe I can get an extension I will tell her something is wrong"
Saturday 10:30AM "Hi Ms. Powalter this is Sophia Parker and I was wondering could I have a mini extension I don't understand this project, I have no idea about it and I don't have ugh time to do it this weekend".
12:00PM "Hi Miss Parker sorry but no one will have an extension on this project think very hard an idea should come to you then make it your own, this doesn't have to be the best ever, that's why it's called a draft.
"Well that didn't work maybe I will work on it after I come home from dance class since I don't have anything else to do.
The same day some one asked me to with them to the movies a little later on that day so I decided to work on this all Sunday since no one does anything Sunday too.
I ended up trying another excuse.
12:30 PM Sunday "Hi Ms. Powalter me again, how is your weekend going, about our monologues, may I have a bit extra time or at least the day in school to work on this, something like a work period.
2:30PM Sunday " Hi miss Parker as it was said to you earlier there is no excuses for missing work, you can try and turn in something, because something is always better than nothing.
(Long blank stare)
"Well since I am being forced to write this maybe I should begin to write it so I can just get it over with. Those were the exact words that left my mouth before the idea of working stepped out behind them.
Ok seems like excuses aren’t working so maybe a complaint will.
Monday 6:30 PM “Hey Ms. Powalter I don’t mean to bother you but, I feel like you don’t care about my situations and the reasons why I cant do this paper or at least why I cant have it in on time, I feel like this project is being forced on the students and very rushed due to the fact that we our missing two days of school next week. Also I believe that I have a small amount of carp-tunnel in the hand that I right with and I feel like you don’t care about my inner and my outer feeling’s”.
8:30PM “Hi Sophia I am sorry about your wrist maybe you should go to the doctors about that but this assignment is not written it is typed and you don’t have carp-tunnel if you are able to type this many excuses and a complaint’s about this project”.
Time begins to move faster, I have one night to at least have a storyboard and some of this monologue typed, there’s no more time for excuses so seems to me all there is left to do is type … After I get home from dance.
I feel like nothing worked, no excuses, no complaints, nothing worked. And I still don’t have an idea.
“Mom do you know something that I could write about and make a monologue of?”
“Sorry Sophia the only type of monologue I can help you with is the play”.
“How about you dad do you know anything?”
His response was “Umm remind me what’s a monologue again?”
Maybe I can get some help with this project in class tomorrow; class will be pretty helpful, reading aloud some of the winning monologues and gathering thoughts should help also…
Those were my last thought’s about this mini assignment until the night before it is due and I’m up until next morning typing nothing.
I can predict how Thursday is going to go.
“Hi class lets take your seats and take out you completed and printed monologue.”
“Morning Ms. Powalter, funny I found an idea to type about after all this pain with this assignment”
“I guess I will right about how “fun” and “easy”
this journey was to completing this paper and how I feel about this
“ Arnold Hart, Parole denied”. The words echoed and sunk into my mind like a submarine but as I looked up I remembered his face. He didn’t look mad or happy but just a look of justice. “Why did I do that!” those words were more like an explosion that just blew my mind apart but I had only myself to blame. I looked at the mirror and saw that the face that committed the crime had changed. It had grown a full beard and had few more wrinkles than I remembered. It had grown up and realized what it did was stupid and wrong. If only I could rewrite time and redo my life then everything would be ok and I would have a second chance. “Why?” that word was like a cool breeze over my mind but all I could do is sit and remember. Remember what drove me to that event. The yells of other inmates
It was my fourth job interview and I was sure I had it. When the call came that I didn’t get the job, I was shocked and angry. “Why does this only happen to me” I thought, not fully thinking. I was at my wits end. Bills were stacking up and debt became my worst enemy. I got a letter in the mail with the big and red word “Foreclosure”. I was alone and the thoughts of me being homeless were becoming a reality. Then I saw it, the gun I had bought to protect myself at night. It had a strange color that day like for some reason it was shinning and telling me the answer to my problem.
I then thought that robbing a stupid connivance store would be a good start, but they don’t have enough money so without a thought I said “A bank”. “What was I thinking?” Now looking back it was by far the stupidest thing ever. Then I saw the bank. It looked simple enough, but as life shows nothing really is. I had the gun, ran into the bank with the feeling of excitement and regrets. I don’t know where the feelings came from but they were present. Then with the gun pointing I told the man “GIVE ME THE MONEY” but I said it with manners.
I didn’t see the alarm button behind the counter, or the nervous banker that pressed it. Before I even knew what had happened the police were already there with a gun up yelling freeze. I didn’t know what to do or how to even act but the trigger had been pulled and a policeman was on the ground bleeding.
No mom but I’ll go start it now.
I’m your grandson Billy, I just turned 11 a few days ago. Mom says we share the same birthday, which is why I’m named after you, Bill Samuel Johnson. Mom use to tell me about how you wanted the perfect grandson, someone to take to baseball games, to play catch with in the yard, and to teach how to fish in the river. I’m in the 5th grade now I have good grade, and I love to play sports. Mom says that I’m like you when you were in school. She also tells me about how you fought in the war and won lots of medals because you were very brave. When I grow up, I want to be a soldier just like you. Mom tells me a lot about you and how you used to be there for her.
We live in the house that you raised mom in and she says that you never ever wanted a black person to set foot in this house. Why don’t you want black people in our house? My dad lives here with us in the house, I wonder what would happened if you found out he was living with us? I really love my dad, he doesn’t act different than any other white person. I have always asked mom that but she never wanted to respond to me. She always said “Baby I really do not know.” Or “Billy can you stop asking questions!” So, after a billion times of getting those answers, I just stopped asking her.
One night, I heard mom talking to grandma. She was saying how you were disappointed in her because of the type of men mom liked. She talked about how you wanted only one race in the family’s bloodline, full breed Italian. She also says that you really hated black people. My dad is black do you hate him? Because mom talks about how he tried so hard to make you like him. My dad is a great person and loves me and mom so much, he takes care of us and always will, he says.
P. S. Even though I haven’t met you I still love you grandpa and always will, I just hope you love me too.
Either way Rafael, I will always love you...hopefully we can try this again...until then, take care.
“I just want to be free!”
I look around my surroundings, waterfalls, sunsets, and green grass sprouting out the ground not afraid to show its identity, unlike me, I am hiding behind my own shadows.
Birds chirping, singing me that beautiful lullaby I was never told as a child
I am tired.Not tired as in yearning for sleep but tired of my sorrows.
I guess blue, black, and red are my favorite colors because I wear them all the time.
It started when I was 7!
To young to know right from wrong but I guess I was old enough to know pain and misery, that’s all they’ve given me was pain and misery.
“I didn’t mean it, I’m sorry!” All my life these 6 powerful words have been spit upon. Sorrow and hurt have been stomped on, just…like… my… face.
My parents never game a damn about me.
I was simply just a check that came through the mail.
I just want to be loved!
I stand tall like the trees, but broken down like these rocks
Fuck the rain I created these waterfalls from my tears at night.
I am an abused child.
Why am I an abused child?
No one ever told me they loved me before I laid my head down at night.
What, am I not good enough for you?
Am I only worth your anger and animosity? Bittersweet kisses planted on my cheek from your fist. I guess you love to mark your territory.
“Shit I’m doing it again!”
Constantly feeling like I’m doing something wrong but I’m the victim!
“I just want to be free”
When I run they always find me, when I hide the lights are always being shun upon me.
So here I am
Standing upon this waterfall it’s my time to go.
No one can find me now. They would never look for someone so ugly in a place that’s so beautiful.
I’ve only lived 17 years and though so short it feels too long I jus want be free…. and suicide seems to be the only key to that door so here I go.
My foot loosing its grasp from the ground, eyes closed shut like the doors of freedom I am trying to open,
I have fallen.
My last breath hits the water, my hourglass has finally ran out.
I choke, cough out my last breath, my last air bubble. It flows deeper and deeper into the water as it relays my last message to the world, “I Am Free!”
Laura De Jesus
Why did my mother marry an alcoholic?
Its 11 o’clock on a Saturday night, where I would be usually out and about with my life I’m sitting here in my living room looking at my mother cry I wonder why. (Looking at her), He does not love her, or us. She continues to stay, while he continues to beat and threaten her. Love is a two way street and she is the only one trying. Every night he comes home, drunk. Now that he does not work, he has no reason to stay sober.
She says she stays for us, but I know she knows we don't need him. He does nothing for us, buying us the things we want; he thinks that’s good enough. In reality, all I have is hatred. I get tired of seeing my mother suffer. I don't want to come home another day after school, rather be out all day and night.
Seeing him tumble and slur out words is now old. Being born and raised with an alcoholic father is not the “dream”. Crying herself to sleep every night is stressful. Not even able to complete what I need to thinking is she okay in the back of my mind, I’m tired of seeing her hurt. The bruises my mother has are invisible, but I, her daughter can see.
Being at school, and out with my friends is what keeps me sane. Out of my house, I feel safe and feel free. Once entering the place I call home it’s a nightmare, I can’t take it anymore. Feeling threatened and unknowing of what can happen next is not normal for a person of my age. Fifteen year olds are supposed to be enjoying life. So why am I sitting here in my living room crying my eyes out?
Tears rolling down my face bring back memories. (Looking at my mother) I want to love and spend time with him; I mean he is my father. But the fear has taken over me completely. I’m scared to have the knife put up to my wrist again, scared to say what I feel because of the fist coming to my face. I should not be afraid of my own father; he is one of the reasons that I am here.
I’m sitting her looking dumb, when I want is for my prayers to come true. When my grandmother was alive, everything was great, always happy and smiling. After that, is when the addiction to alcohol came along. Depression is difficult thing to over come, but we were here, why did he not come to us? Feel as though we are not good enough.
Grand mom, please, (Looking at the photograph of grandmother), I’m begging you to please help my dad. I may not feel the same way I did before, maybe I don’t feel anything towards him, but I know that he is needed and wanted by my mother. Help my father be able to get through his issues and become the same person he was before he lost job. I am begging you, make it go back to the way it was when we were all happy.
Ewe. Swine. Ugh that nasty. I hate it I hate it I HATE IT…
The nasty thick layer of meat, from the nasty little fat dirty pig. Where they lay around in the mud. It’s like lying around in their own poop. No mom for the last time I hate pork,
They eat trash,
They are dirty,
They eat poop,
And they even eat their own throw up!
So can you please make me something better to eat?
What Leena? … Baby since when did you become Muslim?
Moms I never became nothing. I just don’t eat pork.
Like people just don’t know what they feed them pigs and then we eat them. It’s like eating our poop, nasty trash, and mud. Not only that, pigs has worms that live in their body. From all them disgusting thing they be eating. Most people don’t believe it but I do. People just are so into them pork chop, bacon, hot dog, Jell-O, that they don’t even care about what the pork has in them. But they will believe that later on in their life they would have worms living in their bodies.
Sweetie that is all non-since, some people just feel bad for the little pigs, that’s why they said that.
Mom you just don’t understand. Don’t you just ever think about what you eat?
Leena look listen I’m not gone sit here and listen to what your gone say because you is just crazy, and yes sweetie I know what pigs eat, and that’s why they are just so fat and good.
Ewwwww mom… Omg you’re so nasty.
Aha its really good you want to try it. Well I guess you would be eating just plain old rice for dinner, since you don’t want to eat this pork chop I made.
Omg mom, your just the best mom in the world. Dang pork eater. From this day on I will not eat your meat anymore. I will make my own food to eat.
Since thanksgiving is coming up sometimes this month, you better find, or make your own food to eat. Since you said you would not eat any food I make.
Whoosh, Hello mom I was just kidding you see. I was just trying to tell you that pork isn’t good for you that’s all. All i'm saying is that on thanksgiving you should just make everything out of chicken and turkey.
Leena your just something else do you know that.
Yes mom I understand, that’s why i'm your daughter and you’re gone have to deal with it.
That’s why you need to go upstairs and close your room door, before I beat the crap out of you. And I would like to enjoy my dinner without you talking about pork and how delisious it is. Than she starts to laugh.
Okay, mom I’m sorry … enjoy your Swine love you.
Now, now head on up stairs before I kill you.
Than I ran upstairs and shut my door. Just can’t believe she chased me with a fork. Now I’m sitting here starving. Ugh mom.
To the Grave
My Weird Family
I am your worse nightmare, the entity that you fear the most. I am evil, conniving, relentless. Chuck Norris checks for me under his bed every night, but i’m not there. What can he or you do about me? Nothing. But I can do everything to you. You cannot escape me, because I live in your very essence. I am here to drag you down, to leave you sad, hopeless and dry on the streets. I will claim you and use you for my own greed, for my own jealousy.
I lead you, tempt you.
I am the reason you sit there and doubt your self. Try as you might to make it into my brothers arms, but I will not let you. His warm embrace is something you will not and should not feel so long as I exist. The feeling that he brings, and the comfort of living, is not something you can have.
My most hated enemy, and yet so close to me.
See that kid walking out of school without a care in the world? He is my target now. (Points towards something) He will feel my wrath. He will not go towards the path of my brother, that dark sinister path of happiness. (Shivers) As he walks home, I claim him. (Hugging Motion) I whisper in his ear (lower tone) “What’s the point of going on? You have no friends, so why?” I listen as his will cracks. (Snapping motion) He listens, but he fights. He fights to do the right thing, but I don’t let him.
I won’t let him.
As he approaches home, I lead him into the alley way and he lights one. (Pretends to light a cigarette) Right into my arms, and as far away as possible from Success. (Extensive hug) Over the years, he becomes the shadow of his former self. Homeless on the bench with nothing but rags and a dirty hat. My influence among those that call for me, and that I choose, is simply enormous. I refuse to let go until I know that deep down in the dark abyss of my soul, he can no longer go on. This is only one example of my power. Even MC Hammer got touched. A power and feat that Success will never have.
(2 second pause)
That name, oh how I despise it. How can we be twins, but be so different? Father equality, and mother Balance, (Puts one hands out for equality and one for balance, Kind of like a scale.) how could they give birth to such a hideous excuse of a brother?
(4 second pause)
It hurts, that they love him more.
Him. (Points off stage)
But I will never get the same love. I have to force my own. Anything to prevent that fool from getting what I rightfully deserve.
(2 second pause)
It is such a heart-wrenching name. Something I will forever hate.
See that little boy there sitting in the hospital bed? That was me, I did that to him. That’s right, his heart, (Grabs heart) I will claim it and he will recede into the darkness.
They try so hard, so hard to fight me. But I can’t let them win. I won’t. They will love me, embrace me in their mind, and accept the fact that they are lost in the limbos of life and despair.
All because of me. (Really long and drawn out)
In my mind, after completing all these tasks that I set out to do, I feel him.
I feel his presence in my soul. As if I he touched my very being. I hate that feeling. It’s the feeling that I long to rip from everyone who I call a victim.
I can’t win, he won’t leave me alone. There is nothing I can do to escape him, but I don’t want to. He calls to me and whispers “No matter how much you hate me, I will love you unconditionally, and be there for you always.”
This strange foreign feeling, I..I..I.. think it’s called love. (Emotional)
No. I have to fight it, and never submit to his will. (Snaps head)
It felt so good, but I have a mission, a goal. That goal is to break the morale of my prisoners, and veer them in the wrong direction.
My name is.. Failure. My intentions are clear. I am the young twin sister of success. Daughter of Equality and Balance, and tormentor of people all over the world.
Better hope your not next.
It was awfully nice for you to take me out to lunch. I do enjoy the sandwiches here they’re very delightful. The taste of this sandwich reminds me of the times when my dad was actually happy, he’s changed ever since my mom died in the car accident. He’s never been the same, he’s more serious and I never see him ever since I was 10. I’ve never expressed these emotions before ad you’ve been my motherly figure for all these years, you’re the only person I can come to. I’m starting to regret coming to work here. We do so much harm to people and there is so much lying and secrecy. I don’t think I can take it anymore, so much pressure. Everything was fine when I decided to work for my dad, until the occupy protests began. I started to second-guess myself and I’m actually thinking of helping those people. My peers say that I’m actually helping them, but I don’t think that’s true. I make $9,000,000 a year, me just me that’s only helpful for me. I think I’ve been tricked by my dad into coming to work for him, it all makes since now. He’s using me so someone can take control of the company. Was this his plan from the beginning? It can’t be, he loves me. Or he did love me; this is what it seems like now. No, I’m contradicting myself, why would he hate something he created. I’ve supported him through all my years and what do I get in return, nothing. I get ignorance, hate, and now I feel fear. He started the fear but the people on the occupy protest’s escalated it to a point were I’m having doubts. Do you see how messed up I’ve become? Can’t he see he’s made me into something that I’m not? I wanted to be an astronaut or a nurse, something that is useful. I hate myself, I hate my life, I hate what I’ve become, I hate this man. Tell me what I’m going to do to fix this problem. Maria? Where’d you go?
Sweat glistened off of my forehead and dripped onto my t-shirt as I ran home. Half of my shirt was now partially damp from this sweat, considering I had just run home from my job. Ugh, I just got laid off. I knew my mom wouldn’t be happy with me. (From here on the character is going on a mental rampage) Then again what she didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her right? Or should I remember that honesty is the best policy? It was neither. Either way I was trapped.
Money is the only thing that satisfied my mother. She expected me to sell drugs because she claims it brought the most money to the table. Out of everyone that I seen do it I just couldn’t sell drugs, although I knew someone who could, It was my uncle Tito. My mom still doesn’t know that my uncle has been back to his old ways, cigarettes, weed, guns, and cocaine. That was my uncle’s way of life, and he wasn’t planning to change it for anything.
I felt like I knew my uncle’s darkest secrets and one was what he did to me. The image of what he has done to me has been running through my head for a long time now. Ever since I felt his skin touch mine I was never the same. I remembered it like it was yesterday.
She sits on me and speaks of these actions that have occurred to her and even speaks of actions she wants to occur. Suicide? Why would such person want to end their life, especially at such a young age of 12? This is the first I have heard of someone wanting to end something for eternity over something that’s only going to last a while
According to her, it was a way for her to get it over with, to get life over with. A way to get rid of the late night thoughts, that got her more and more terrified of death. Thinking “Why should I wait for my death & be scared my entire life when I can end it now, either way it’s going to happen. So what’s the purpose of waiting for it”.
I believed humans to be fun loving people who lived life to the fullest. They seem so happy and enthusiastic. I always noticed they find ways to get through their days in strange forms, but it works. I have seen them move their bodies in such motions to a combination of vocal and instrumental sounds to show happiness, and later on share a couple of laughs with a pat on the back. They write multiple letters in books to make it symbolize things that express how they feel, and it works. With all these options why can’t this one girl find a way to make it work and continue living the life she was brought into?
This sunset is gorgeous, who would want to give up this view?, I know I wouldn’t. I have been sitting here for about 40 years and not a single day do I wish to be removed from this spot. The beauty of nature, the river, trees and peaceful people enjoying it all give life a bigger reason to live. She’s speaking of depression and the only way to end is to end her life. Humans shouldn’t jump to such conclusions. This girl is quickly making a decision with out really thinking of the consequences. I don’t know what its like to have problems, or be happy, or to simply have emotions. I’m just but a bench watching life take on its course.
Once I got up the next morning my mother yelled from the bath room, ‘Anthony its time for school, get up and take your bubble bath’
I yelled back, ‘Okay dog, this time make sure my yellow squeaky duck is in there alright home slice’
Yes I’ve been waiting for this day to come ever since I got an A plus on my art project last year. That project was so hard we had to spell our names out of cereal. I keep putting “Pimp daddy Ant”. Today’s going to be great especially since I have Ms. Snuffle bottoms with me.
When I finally got pass those gates and saw my friend Chuck with his Jan-sport book bag. I started to walk towards him with this expression on my face.
(With a cheesy face) ‘Hey what’s up Chuck Waggon, how was your summer?’
He look at me with a I’m about to punch you in the face look. ‘It was good man, (in a mad tone) how many times did I tell you to not call me by my full name… Anthony.’
I started to giggle and I almost pissed in my pants when I saw his reaction. I wanted to see it again so I said ‘My bad Chuck Waggon, hey do you want to see something’
He almost popped a vein when I said that, but once his face wasn’t red any more he told me in a silent but mean voice ‘What!’
I grabbed my superman book bag and pulled out Ms. Snuffle bottoms. She keeps getting caught with the pencils and pens I had in my bag. His eyebrows rose and he look as if he wanted to start laughing. He said (With laughter behind it) ‘What? You still have a teddy bear?
i wanted to punch him in the face for asking a question like that but instead I answered ‘Yea so!’
he looked around and saw a crow and told me ‘Nothing I think you should go show Ms. Snuffle bottoms to that big crowd of 8th graders over there, I think they’ll like Ms. Snuffle bottoms a lot.’
I had got so defensive that I said in a quick and silent voice, ‘you know what… I will!’
I started to walk towards them I knew that they were going to love Ms. Snuffle. Bottoms. I mean who doesn’t love teddy bears with button eyes. Once I go to them I tapped one of them on their navy blue shirt, right on his shoulder. When he turned around I began to stretch out my hands with Ms. Snuffle bottoms.
‘Hey do you like my teddy’
After I said those six words through out the whole day people have been laughing and pointing fingers at me. Most times when people saw me they called me something that was related to (in a disgusted voice)“teddy lover”.
See now Ms. Snuffle bottoms would have never sold me out to the whole school. I mean she wouldn’t have done what my friend Chuck Waggon did to me.