Blog Feed

Football has always been very important to me, I still have a lot of memories from when I used to play. Part of me wishes that I had never stopped, the other part of me understands, and decided that it was better for me not to get hurt. Not playing football allowed me focus more on my school work. It was one of the harder decisions I ever made, and I still consider football to be a very important passion for me. I will never forget certain things such as going to put my football helmet on everyday.

A fake helmet. Not everyone would call it art, but I would. It has meaning to me, and to me it glistens in the light on the shelf where it sits. It is all black with a red cardinal decal on both sides. It has a white brim on the back that even says Ridell. It looked so real, and the memories it brought back to me were endless. Anyone else would say its just a toy. It’s not it has my life bottled up inside of it. It had a facemask on it, and even had real padding inside of it. The helmet has a piece of masking tape on it that says ‘Justin Siegel’. I put the tape their, it looked exactly like the tape on my helmet when I played football. My coach put it their, on the first day of practice.

My coach also happened to be a mentor to me, he gave me the helmet. This little helmet had meant something to me for multiple reasons. It was shiny, without a single scratch on it. It looked exactly the way it looked the day that I got it. I couldn’t say that about the actual helmet I wore when playing football. My other helmet had better days, It had dents and dinks all over the place. I had thrown it had the pavement a few times after the two games my team lost in my 8th grade season. So at least my replica helmet still looked perfect. I plan on keeping this helmet, because it will help me remember when I lived in northfield forever.

Whenever I see this helmet sitting on the shelf in my room, it makes me think about football. I would think about how I loved to play, and how I may have regretted my decision. At the same time the helmet itself makes me think about all of the times I had banged my head, or banged into the opposing player. Tough decisions are always hard, and especially when they have such great magnitude. Next, I will mention a moment that I will never forget, because it makes me think about how our team had such a geniune camaraderie.

“You can do this boys” my coach yelled during the time out. There were two minutes left in the game, and we were down by a touchdown. We needed the ball back, and we needed it at that very moment. It was third down and they needed 4 yards for the first down. A fire had been lit inside of me, I wanted to win more then anything. I looked to my left, and right. My teammates were just as angry as me. We worked hard for this moment. Next, I looked at the sideline. I saw my dad, my grandparents, and my coaches. I was too focused to let my nerves distract me. I was exhausted though. I didn’t care, I cared about Brandon. The opposing quarterback. I could remember everything he said about us, and how we didn’t stand a chance.

“Ready. Set. Go. Hut. Hut.” he screeched. The ball flew back to him from the center. I rushed passed the offensive line, and brandon was in my cross hairs. I chase him for a couple seconds. Then, I reached my hand out, and dived for his legs. I had wrapped his legs up, and pulled him down. It was shocking, We’d get the ball back, they needed to punt. Finally I turned, and looked at my coach. He looked back, and we both smiled.

The game I was just talking about was one of the biggest moments I remember from playing football. It feels like it was just yesterday, playing under the lights on that november saturday night.  Although football had such a great impact on me, I think that SLA has had a greater impact on me. This decison was the right one looking back. The experiences, friendships, and learning experiences I have had at SLA are untouchable compared to football. Football was a great part of my childhood, and i will remember those awesome moments forever. In the end I don’t regret my decision though.

Youth sports is at an all time low in participation, and is only projected to dip lower and lower. This is primarily due to the way coaches are taking kids' health into their own hands. I have been on the receiving end of a coaches irresponsibility, and I will share both my story and my thoughts on this unfortunate situation.

I showed up to the field, finally, about 10 minutes before the game started. This wasn’t good, seeing as how it was the first game of the fall season. I grabbed my bag and ran down to the cluster of fields below the parking lot. When I got there my coach looked somewhat relieved.

He clasped my shoulder and said, “You’re starting today.”

I looked at him with wide eyes and replied, “Sure coach, whatever you need.” From there, I had about 7 minutes to get ready to start the first game of the season. There were a handful of college scouts behind the dugout waiting to watch the game, to see who they would recruit in the future. After I threw a little and got somewhat loose we had to take the field. I felt alright, but I took my time with my warmup pitches just to be cautious.

However, as soon as the game started, the pressure of the college coaches started to reach me. I felt like I had to throw the ball through the catcher's glove in order to impress. This extra exertion only wore me down quicker. During the third inning, I could tell that I was starting to fade. My mechanics were getting sloppy, but I couldn’t tell my coach.  Then the worst thing that could happen happened. I went into motion, whipped my arm forward, and released the ball. I could feel tingles start in my elbow and slowly crawl towards my fingertips. My arm felt like it was on fire. Everything slowed down, and I knew it was bad. It’s amazing the impact one pitch can have on your entire trajectory.

Unfortunately this is the way of youth sports nowadays. Overuse is one of the most common reasons for serious sports injuries, and it isn’t going to stop anytime soon. Many coaches of youth teams prioritize winning over player development and health. My coach made the decision to start me and try to put the team at an advantage, but put my health and safety at a disadvantage. This is a problem that starts and ends with coaches caring about their players. It is the responsibility of the adult managing the children, however this power of coach is often abused, and the kids pay the price.

Another reason that is causing these serious youth sports injuries is the unnecessary competitiveness from youth coaches. Once you get to a high enough level in your sport coaches will do anything to win and gain some recognition for themselves. I have been on the receiving end of this competitiveness, and it stunted my growth as a player.

If these coaches can not find a balance between winning and developing youth players. Unfortunately the only way to make this happen would be to enforce even more regulations into these games. This is a shame as it doesn’t allow the kids to just play the sports they love to play, but it is necessary if coaches do not change their actions on the field.

Technology is more than a form of entertainment. From personal experience, technology can be a simple and impacting way to understand the struggles and stories people deal  with in life. Some of the stories can be about things you have a general idea about that gives you a better understanding then what you originally knew. I never had a story that I could personally relate to but those type of stories can happen. Now the way I heard this story are going to be strange to most people but video games is where I get these stories the best. I hear impactful stories while playing video games because I do LFG (Looking For Group) forums all the time for the game I play and I can get good stories time to time. Some funny, some just random talk, and then some that are just impactful to the views of life.

I’m going to tell a story that I heard over the summer from just finding random people on LFG to do something I know I can’t do alone and before I start let me just note the people I was with were all adults as I said earlier I was finding random people. The story I heard when I was doing missions with someone then his buddies hopped in the voice chat we were in. I never started the conversation as I was dead silent as I wanted to focus on what I was doing in the game. I can’t remember much of this part of the conversation but the guys soon started talking about how they or someone they cared about was going through or overcame drug addiction. I can’t remember much of that conversation as they never talked that much on it but this part of the conversation I remember as this story made me say to myself “I deeply respect this man.”.

It started when one of the guys talked about how he was in the military reserves. After he finished talking one of the other guys started talking about how he was actually deployed onto the field for 2 years then after he was honorably discharged from service he got put in the reserves and how he hated it.  “They were all truck drivers.” he said referring to everyone else working their. Before he went to leave, he researched what they could do to him. The military could do nothing to stop him from leaving as he already was honorably discharged so he quit the reserves. He dropped his gear off at the building and when he told the sergeant in charge of the place, the sergeant started yelling at the guy. The guy yelled to the sergeant that he couldn’t stop him from leaving and that he could beat the sergeant up. He then yelled towards to the men listening to the conversation saying how he went to battle for 2 years while they had no experience except training. He then challenged them to stop him. No one stood up and he walked out the front door and just like the research told him they did nothing to him. I had a deep sense of respect for him after his story as I had no knowledge of the military and I never knew that his story could ever happen, especially that nothing happened to him after. I was both surprised and amazed by his story I had to remember it. It’s stories like this that you can’t hear in your daily life unless your job is to find the most random and crazy stories for a newspaper or article job. I took a few things from that story is that even if you work for the Military and your abide not to leave there are conditions that they can’t touch you just for leaving. One thing I still wondered but never looked up is what could the military/government have done if he wasn’t honorably discharged.

Many people have different ideas about how to understand and gain a bigger impact of life but to me the best source can be just meeting random people using technology to talk to them server to server as it’s a part of their own life and in their own words unedited by reporters or editors for a article so it’s a really reliable source. LFG in video games can find you people you can get a story out of but it won’t just be told randomly unless they are seeking for attention. For me I only hear these stories after someone else or I bring up a topic the person with the story can relate it to. If you do find an interesting story don't be afraid or nervous to ask for more details as that's when you learn even more so you can understand the bigger meaning.

Tribute

Screams, cheering, and applauses rumbled through the room. Heart racing, heavy breathing, sweaty hands. I’m sitting in the room waiting to hear my name to get called. I’m on stage at a dance competition sitting with my friends and teammates. It was the last award for the night.

It was a hot night in Atlantic City, New Jersey, and my team was going to perform on stage. There were only two acts left. We all gather in a circle and wish each other luck on stage. When I was dancing on the stage, my confidence boosted higher. The nerves that I felt before all had disappeared as I moved. Sweat dripping down my face and my heart is racing. My eye filling up with water and I’m about to pass out while I danced. After we performed, all you can hear was heavy breathing and people cheering that we had done a great job.  The last award was between us and another team. By one point, the other team had won. The look on all of our faces was speechless and upset because we did everything that we could to get to nationals. You can see the sweat and tears rolling down our face, but we didn’t let it get to our heads and we pushed to go harder.

A few days after the competition, I was walking up the steps to get to the third floor to go to my dance studio. Suddenly I heard  my dance director counting, “Five, six, seven, eight.” I walked into my dance studio with black sweatpants, a black hoodie and headphones in my ear playing one of the dance sets. My dance studio is really big and has a lot of air conditioners in it. As you walk in you will see a tone of trophies on the wall, floor, and on the shelves. Suddenly, I notice that my dance director was crying in her office and my teammates had surrounded her. When I got there, my other dance director Ms. Danielle who is best friends with Ms. Kamillie told everyone, “Ms. Kamille mother had passed away from cancer.” My eyes began to tear up when I heard the news because her mom always uses to walk up to me after every performance telling me that I did a great job and how she likes the way that I dance.  Ms. Kamillie’s mother had always brought this positive energy everytime you are around her. She cared about all the kids and made sure that we all would stay out of trouble.

Later on,  the team and I decided to do a dance tribute to her mother because we felt as though that we need to show her how much we cared about her. The practices were long hours everyone was tired and trying to push through the pain. Ms. Kamille didn’t know that we were doing this for her. We had to keep it a secret. We performed this at our dance recital because we wanted everyone to see this dance tribute that we put together. At the end of the dance, we gave Ms. Kamille flowers and a big group hug to show support and love. Ms. Kamille was speechless because she saw how much we cared about her and how we all will manage to get through it.

After that experience, it made me realized how it is good to have people support and care for you. I had learned that it is good to have extended relationships with people because I know that I can contact them at any time if I needed anything and they would be there to help me. This situation will always resonate with me because it allows me to see the importance of friendship and family. It made me realize why they are important to me. People should be grateful for the people in their lives because you never know if they will be gone in the next moment. Life's too short for you not to appreciate the ones who support you and care about you. You need to realize how big of an impact that will have on your life because you will know that they got your back no matter what you plan on doing. Lastly, everything is not always about winning but it's about the work you put in that made you and/or others happy.

“So do yall wanna call it or play universe in the rain?”

“UNIVERSE!”

“Alright let's go”

I lined up with my six other teammates. We all had the same intensity in our eyes, I started to giggle with excitement, I mean this is Ultimate Frisbee  at its finest. We had a full 7 on 7, each player was skilled for the game and to top it off it was pouring down raining. My team had defense first so we threw the frisbee down the field. The other team caught it and connected a few passes. The disc gets to one of their handlers and he messed up his throw. I don’t blame him, I mean it’s raining hard and we are throwing a piece of smooth plastic around, it’s bound to be slippery. It didn't matter anyway because not too long after my team did the same.

The two teams were evenly matched. I realized that the other team had one player making all the plays so I called a switch so I could mark him and shut him down. With me on him nobody would throw him the disc. Finally he loses me by faking like he was walking then taking off. He had a good three steps on me, just enough for him to get the disc. He was fast but I was faster. They threw him the disc and using all my speed I ran and dove in front of him blocking the disc with the tips of my fingers. He drops the disc making it a turn over, our disc. I was so excited that I bursted down field and ran for the endzone. My teammate picked up the disc and threw it to me but it fell short of the endzone so I doubled back to catch it. I saw an open man and threw it but like everybody else it slipped from my hands and I threw it right into the other team's hands. They capitalized on my mistake and threw it down field and scored. We lost. For a split second I was the hero of the game but I was also  the downfall of what should have been an easy win.

After the game we gathered for lunch. I was soak and wet so I went back to my dorm room to change into some dryer clothes. The walk to my room and to the cafeteria was kinda depressing for me. I kept going back to the moment when the disc slipped out my hands. Like I can never finish. This is a reoccurring thing with me like I do something good or even awesome but soon after I make a mistake that overshadows my good making my good pointless. I wish I was like those kids who don’t make mistakes or make small mistakes that really don’t matter so I can stop making a fool of myself. The rain sure did not help but aid in putting me into my depressing mood.  I finally made it to the cafeteria and I came in to a warm welcome and everybody congratulating me on my block. It was like nobody noticed my mistake costed my team the game. They were super siked about the D. Somebody even got it on video. I still felt bad but listening to everyone saying that I did good brightened the day and made me feel better. One of my coaches/counselors came up to me and said:

“Why so glum chum?”

“Just thinking about how I messed that throw?”

“Duude! Are you serious? You made an amazing block made the biggest play of the game and your crying over a bad throw. You can’t worry about your mistakes, you must learn from them. What you should focus on is what you did right and give yourself a pat on the back. Don’t let your mistakes rule your life.”

After she said that I started carrying myself different. I became comfortable with my mistakes and I learn from them much easier.  Don't focus too hard on the bad, keep your head up and stay positive. Nobody is perfect accept your mistakes and let them make you a better person.

“Can you hear me when I talk this low?” She muttered.

When people find out that I am hearing impaired, they try to figure out how bad it is. There’s a distinction from when you are deaf and when you have hearing loss. People hear things differently than I do, but I don’t recognize that I perceived it incorrectly. When people say, “Madison you’re yelling.” I don’t acknowledge that I was yelling. Hearing loss is not something people automatically notice, and it’s hard for me to remember that I am hearing things differently because I have dealt with it my whole life. My hearing problem affects many different aspects of my life, including the way I grew up, the way I talk, and the way I take in information.

When I was 6 years old, I was placed in the class where the teacher had a black, circled microphone around their neck. I had the teachers who taught the kids with disabilities. Truth be told, I never understood why I was known as someone with a disability because I didn’t think it was a big deal. When I looked around the sunlit room, I saw the little kids around me get into a circle for show and tell. I remember glimpses of my teacher from kindergarten with a long sleeve, gray shirt on, asking me, “Madison can you hear me?" I thought to myself, did she really think I was deaf? When she would talk into the microphone for more then an hour, I wouldn’t be able realize she still had it on because I was so used to hearing it that way. I remembered that when she did turn the microphone off after using it for a while, I had trouble hearing her and couldn’t adjust to the lower volume. I felt like I should have been able to hear her. I was always placed in the front of the room, so it wasn’t until I didn’t have a microphone and was sitting in the back of the room that I saw a difference.

When I speak, my mind tells me that I hear myself in a regular American accent. I hear my voice differently than others do, and when I hear myself in a recording, it takes me a second to realize that it’s my voice. I wonder why my mind hears something one way, but it comes out a different way. When I was in 5th grade my dad, who had squared glasses on, and a shirt that said AAMCO on it and I were in a meeting with a speech therapist, talking about how I didn’t need to be monitored anymore.

“Ever since she was little she has had this certain accent that makes it hard for others to understand her. Now that her voice has begun to mature, will that accent go away?” My dad said.

I had never realized before that I pronounced things differently than anyone else. I looked at the speech therapist who was answering my dad’s question and thought about how people always say, “what” to me because they misunderstood what I was saying. I felt bad and embarrassed because the next thing I noticed was the speech therapist saying,

“It is common for kids with hearing loss to not enunciate when they speak.”

I was really confused because when I speak, I hear myself enunciate. That was when I realized that I’m not just hearing a lower volume than everyone else, but that it can affect other abilities I may have too.

Information is the key to helping people succeed in life. That’s how we learn and keep moving forward. I have learned that when I am taking in the information, or reading the information, I don’t understand it as quickly as others might. When I was 14 years old, a psychiatrist gave me a test that helped me notice how much my hearing problem really affected me. She gave me a test that showed me a pattern, and then I had to create that pattern using blocks. I stared at the puzzle and I couldn’t identify what direction I should put the shapes in. I got frustrated because it was a simple task, but for some reason I couldn’t do it. My face got bright red, and the psychiatrist could tell I was embarrassed.

“Just take your time you're doing fine.” She said hesitantly.

I was able to tell from the way she said it that I wasn’t doing it as quickly as she thought I would. In that moment, we both realized that was part of the reason I had to take the test in the first place. To actually narrow down what affected the way I learned. The psychiatrist explained to me that I was able to do a lot of things including reading quickly and memorizing things, but when I actually need to run the process through my mind, I have a slower time.

It wasn’t until I actually began to mature that I really understood the way my hearing loss affects me. I didn’t realize that my teacher was asking me if I was able to hear what she was saying not only to make sure I knew what she was saying, but to make sure that I fully comprehended what she was saying. I now have ways to work around my hearing loss when I am taking in information, including repeating what a person says to me a few times, and pausing for a second to actually give myself an easier chance of understanding. I learned how to speak slower so people will be able to understand what I’m saying, and if I needed to enunciate for anything I learned that if I bit on my tongue for a few seconds, it helped me to do that. Sometimes when you have a problem that you can’t fix, finding ways to make it work with your life is the solution.

I moved from a small town called Bristow in northern Virginia when I was 8 years old. I remember the bright red door on the red brick row home that we lived in. There was a crabapple tree in the front yard. My mom got remarried and this new man had a job in Philadelphia. My mom had recently lost her job due to the mortgage company she was working for going bankrupt. I was 8 at the time, my siblings were 5 and 11.

Moving from the only place you’ve ever lived when you are old enough to remember it all is really hard. I lived in a small town in Northern Virginia where all my friends lived within walking distance from me and everyone knew each other. The first night I spent in Philadelphia was the first time I had ever been here. I was very surprised at what Philadelphia looked like. The only cities I’d ever been to were Washington DC and Rochester New York. It was baffling to me that some people didn’t even  have front yards that they played in when they were kids.

I remember the day I moved. It was mid February and incredibly cold outside. I had on a tank top and a thin sweater. My sister and I had a very close friend named Kati Flamm who lived in the town house next to ours. My mom, sister, brother, and myself were all standing outside the u-haul with all our stuff in it and hugged Kati and her parents. Everyone was crying but eventually it was too cold to stay outside any longer. My whole family packed into the u-haul and drove to Philadelphia to start the new part of our lives.

When I got to Philadelphia and started my life here it was a huge culture shock to me. There’s people who had no idea what living outside of the city looked like. There was people who had never left Philadelphia before. City living was not something I was familiar with. Both of my parents are from small towns, I had only ever known suburban living. Moving forward in my life to a big city that I had never experienced before

When I walked into what would now be my home it felt strange. I was living in a freestanding house next to a church, My room was a lot bigger than the one I had before. The biggest adjustment for me was living away from my friends. I couldn't play outside with them anymore. I walked in with a duffel bag in my hand containing my clothes that I needed before we unpacked. I remember feeling so afraid of living in Philadelphia. It scared me to move away from anything and everything I knew. When I sat down on my bed I started crying. One single tear ran down my face as I realized this was home for me now. I felt my face heat up, I knew it was bright red. I was angry at the world for this. My mom walked in after a few minutes to say goodnight since it had been a long day for us all. I heard her slow footsteps coming down the hallway and i wiped my face and pretended everything was fine. She was happy. Being a mom, she knew immediately that something wasn't right. She sat down next to me on my bed and I felt the whole mattress shit with her weight. She put her arm around me, i put my head on her shoulder. She told me this was good for us and that I should give it a chance. I didn’t say a word she walked out of my room with a heavy sigh. I laid down and fell asleep.

Coming from from a small town where you knew everyone in your school and all of their business to Philadelphia where I was placed in a private school was a big jump for me. I felt like my world was imploding I didn’t have friends and I hated living in the city. I wanted so badly to move home to Virginia. I was so confused by everything. Some people had different accents than I had ever heard before. City living was not something I was used to.

One thing I know moving to the city has done for me is that it has given me a new mindset and a new open mind I don’t know if I would have had if I stayed in my hometown. I’ve been exposed to things that I would have never seen in in Bristow. Experiences in Philadelphia have definitely changed me as a person and given me a wider view on life and everything in it.

Passed

I’d never forget this moment. Sitting on the edge of a bridge. I felt the cold wind slapping me in the face. I was just, thinking. I’m not going to lie I had the most sharpest knife piercing slowly deadly into my hand. I could feel the cold warm beautiful blood slowly drip down from my arm, like when you eat ice cream and don’t have a napkin. I could tell that the burgundy blood wouldn’t stain the cold hard ground. 5 seconds later, it went plummeting down from my hand to the deep dark, distant waters. I just stared down, it’s like I could see everything mirroring off of the black dirty water. Next thing I knew, I was standing, on the edge. Just thinking. After that I put my foot out. Just thinking. Ten seconds later I was walking home. I didn’t jump from the gates of heaven to fall down to the nightmares of my personal hell. I was just thinking what if it actually happened.

          “What if I was just not standing in front of you right now.” The words went slowly through one of her ears and out the other, but they boomeranged back. She said,

           “Well, how do you think I would feel or how he would feel, if you did that then, I would bring you back and kill you myself.” I could hear her tears rolling down her face. I was, I was shocked.

           “Wait, we aren’t even friends, you don’t even talk to me like that.” Still as the words come out my mouth not my head, my mind was still focused on her previous words.

           “Well, how do you think I would feel or how he would feel, if you did that then, I would bring you back and kill you myself.” Still everything, everything was just so still, as she kept speaking similarities inclined on the conversation. I felt, different, wanted, accepted, and mostly loved. Then I felt the water, slowly purposely making its finally destination to the bottom of my face. I could hear her crying on the phone. It was so clear, like it wasn’t even 5 centimeters away from my ear. This was killing me, mentally. I found light in the abyss. I could basically say, I’m on the gates heaven, that reminded me that I didn’t want to jump from the gates of heaven, if had I would have fell down to the nightmares of my personal closed hell. The pounding of the metal on the door as the lock opens was loud to the point of fear rushing through your veins. It was my parents, coming back from the store. Husain bolted to my room with tears flooding to my chin.

           This was 7th grade, 2015. It was a new year same school same people same work, same bullies. Same words, same looks, same laughter, all the same counterfeit. I’m not going to lie, ever since middle school started nothing was the same, food didn’t taste the same, walking didn’t feel the same. Everything was different but the same.

           I had a lot of nicknames, there was “terrorist, bomber, suicide bomber, ka boom!”, and a lot of other ones that wouldn’t be appropriate to tell you. Everyday was the same, awake, school, sleep, repeat. I was getting nowhere. I was doing nothing. I was getting nowhere. Life had asked death once, why do people love me but hate you, death said, “Because you are a beautiful lie and I am a painful truth.” After middle school has ended, it was a new chapter, a new book, a new beginning. A fresh start.

           Unsuccessful people hold grudges, I stopped holding grudges. Started to move forward, forget about the past, it passed. It was the first time I could just be me, play my tunes, listen to the drum kick in for the first time in more than 4 years. I Started to wear the SnapBack backwards.

           Food started to taste good, I didn’t just go to school, I did much more than just be apart of the system. I was let loose, I was surfing a new wave. The last one had too many currents.

A sphynx walks in front of me. She sprouts hair side by side. She suffers from death to the left of me, behind me she´s forever intertwined. 9th grade, I entered SLA doors afraid of what was to come. After the summer institute, the feeling of reassurance was high, but I knew things would shift in time. One by one I met other students, later on discovering a more exuberant side of me that laid dormant as if it was the secret behind Chamber B of the Padmanabhaswamy Temple. Negative altercations led to the truest friendships and I exposed this side of me to everyone. I first put it to use in the library, then in class, and finally with the upperclassmen. My personality was at its peak and I soon began to realize this side of me has always been visible, just wasn't accepted by others as much so here.

As time passed I began following a daily routine, around five every morning I would wake up with my eyes virtually glued shut, equilibrium off balance, and the feeling of two bushy tails brushing against my legs as I try to make my way to the lavatory. Splashing some water onto my face and staring into the mirror in a daze, fantasizing about my desired future university. A small exchange of words for an act for a group project quickly became a game of me running through the halls. While others never understood what exactly was occurring, the individual on the other end always did. Eventually, everyone came to know me as the guy who runs through the hall and soon almost everyone understood the reasoning of it just being plain fun. I had friends now, most upperclassmen. They always provided me with the feeling of acceptance, which was never done by anyone outside of my household. It was like I felt happiness for the first time again. While I was overjoyed for this, I still had a contradicting feeling. A shadow that constantly hovered over me, filling me with nothing but fear. The feeling of being alone, insignificant, and a complete waste of time appeared erratically. The feeling that I was always doing something wrong.

Moments passed, laughs were exchanged, until the year finally ended when my mistake appeared vivid. I barely heard from anyone. It was like we never even really existed. As I paced outside late at night swatting the gnats that lingered among the streets like hungry predators waiting for their time to attack, my curiosity increased. Contemplating the feeling I couldn't quite pinpoint before, but now appeared so obvious. The feeling of neglect and obscure, one that I as a child experienced all too well. I cried for many nights and pondered through many mornings. It was heartbreaking to know I wasn't considered as important to them as I considered them to me. Memories of family members leaving came and went by the hour. I relived every awesome memory of me with them and I questioned everything.

¨What did I do wrong?¨

¨Is this just a repeated cycle?¨

¨Was I nothing more but a source for entertainment?¨

I've grown attached to them. Weakened by them in the most disgusting way possible. Emotionally. Depression returned and since then I vowed not to let this happen again. A game that was once a simple act of playfulness and immaturity, now used as a way of defense and disguise from others and myself.

Summer came and went, my mother came from and returned to the hospital causing me more stress than I believe she knew when sophomore year finally began. The first few weeks I observed everyone. Putting a mental labels on people that I could possibly get attached to who could make me relive the miserable feeling I had at the end of freshmen year and throughout the summer. Covered by my reputation for running through the halls freshman year, I was able to run away without the slightest sign of confusion from the individuals on the other end. Of course, this made them laugh, and surprisingly I was ok with this. Basically killing two birds with one stone, I gave others happiness and an interesting high school experience while at the same time keeping myself emotionally hidden. Unfortunately, something that's confusingly hard for me to do is lie. And it wasn't long until others wanted to know the reason for me sprinting away from them every time they came into view.

I was caught multiple times but coached by my eagerness to stay emotionally hidden. When asked, I said whatever came to mind first. Since scenes from my neighborhood replayed themselves in my head constantly, I used what I've witnessed and defined them as. Thugs and gangsters. I used the words ¨gang banger¨ many of times and shockingly I was able to navigate throughout my whole sophomore year with literally those two words. All I had to say was that and run and people would laugh and without question continue on with their day. Of course, like I said, it's incredibly hard for me to lie. And they saw right through that and soon demanded to know the real reason why. I couldn't tell them that I actually cared for them right? I mean, first and foremost, I know they wouldn't feel the same. They never do. I felt bad. I went back to my old ways of  ¨putting myself in their place¨ routine. I gave them things, wrote nice messages on the holidays. In my own slick way, trying to demonstrate love and friendship but never really confirming it. I gave things to people I barely knew just to even out the playing field so it would become less noticeable. I wanted them to know they did nothing wrong but for that, they would have to know the truth. While going through all this I saw an option of change, some hope that it would be different this year. My hands shook, my sweat glands unlocked, and my heart rate sped up. I gave me secrete to one of the seniors. As the year went by things continued to be the same. My depression soared, I watched my mom fade away before my eyes causing me nothing but agony, and me running from people I loved but I know wouldn't feel the same continued. But I waited. I waited to see if that one person I gave my secrete to would see my reason of action and at least make the effort to stay in touch and provide me with the feeling of acceptance once again. This never happened, ensuring my dark thoughts to be valid. But in a way, I was somewhat ok. For I have left her with the burden of a truth that no one would dare to believe.

As a child, I was taught to love others. Take them into account on every decision I make and consider them family. And yet inevitably, we are forced apart. Sometimes the bond of friendship is not a bond forged by choice. In fact, some would see friendship as a terrible burden. As the summer went by I replayed the memories from sophomore year mentally. The smiles I created that I will never see again with a mixture of dark thoughts that made me realize the obvious. Everything happens for a reason. While I thought this was making me weak, it was indeed making me stronger. It helped me to develop a line between me and them that was only beneficial to me. Which, I must admit, isn't a strong line but it's there. My mom had surgery and was granted a second chance reminding me of the saying ¨ Enjoy it while it last¨. Reassurance of the definition of life appeared clear. I now know that everything doesn't last forever. And there will come a time when I am truly alone. And for the first time in years, I´m actually ok with that. I won't lie, I am afraid. I've been threatened, beaten, and in a way neglected. Little did I know those things would make me more powerful and resistant now more than ever. I´m ready to start and end the junior year with a bang. But of course, this feeling I have now isn't promised. A sphynx walks in front of me. She sprouts hair side by side. She suffers from death to the left of me, behind me she´s forever intertwined.

Introduction:

My goal in this essay was to make the reader feel as connected to my family memories that took place in my house as I was. I realized it was mot possible because no one´s memories ever feel exactly the same. The spider analogy came to me when I would leave the house to go to school early in the morning. One  morning there was a big spider web that the sun hit perfectly and the sky had these beautiful soft rose gold tones the weather was neutral and for a moment I felt at peace, I tried to take a picture but when I looked on my phone it did not look the same, when I came back home the web was not there. I stood for a few seconds looking for the web wondering if spiders care when their web is gone or if at this point it is just routine for them. I´ve never been apart of the moving process, it has happened to people around me but never people I live with. Everything felt like it would never be the same.

What happens on an emotional level when a spiders web is ruined? When their homes are destroyed by visitors. Are they irritated that they have to start over or do they adapt well? We don´t take notice to their creations crafted built for them, never taking time to admire each silk strand catered overtime to their comfort. In actuality they just aren't us, so they don´t matter as much. Spiders, the ultimate nomads of the ecosystem, moving to various locations when time has proven the moment has come for them to continue on.

The only thing separating humans and spiders is the simple fact that they are individuals, not members of a pack or flock. They invested time into building their forts lacking sentimental value. Relocating is a necessity for survival, but I get attached too easily.

I had overheard them talking about it for a while but always thought it was talk.

¨Sanaa take these empty boxes to your room¨ my aunt called to me from the garage.

¨Coming!¨

I usually act before my mind is ready to process everything. My hands stacked souvenirs of my time here and piled them into boxes. When one box was full it was closed off and pushed to the side.  I sat on the bed in that room and looked around. Stared at the brown boxes against the white wall, without all my things, it was a blank canvas.

I had spent countless hours writing, eating, and laughing in this house, my safe place. I sat on the bottom step, to my left the living room and memories of the holiday shows my cousins and I would host when we were 5, but abandoned when everyone got ¨too cool¨ for talent.  To my right was the Kitchen and Dining room, I remember the thanksgiving I migrated to the adult table, it was only a few inches but it meant something. Half of what I knew about my family was uncovered in this house. My aunts competitive side during scrabble, countless stories of lives before my cousins and I came along. The stories would stay the same but the background they were told in would change.

The oldest tradition for my cousins rolled around with the holidays. Our staged performances as toddlers and adolescents can probably still be found with a few hundred camera roll scrolls, even though they faded away throughout the years as we all advanced into individuals, the shows were our bond. Our black history shows where I played Rosa Parks every year up till 2010, our easter shows where we once rapped about jesus but shed the idea of organized religion like dead skin in 2014 while still using it as a cloak to hide our real selves from our parents. Our Thanksgiving talents shows deceased after we all realized none of us would be the next American Idol, Gabby Douglas or Misty Copeland. Then our Christmas shows where I once played rudolph but lost interest in the ruby face paint and glowing antlers. The New years parties we threw reduced to a quick

¨happy new years <3¨

since we seemingly grew out of eachother.

All of these memories I dug up will feel gone when we relocate. My web is unraveling around me. ´Maybe they'll ask for a refund´ I always think begging my mind for reassurance. I pause reminding myself that´s an unrealistic scenario I created to keep myself here.

I´ve always been the type of person to hold onto memories, I've saved previous text messages from tainted friendships to read and look through on my emotional rainy days. Maybe I´m not holding on to the house as much as I am holding onto everything familiar. Everything is changing. My english teacher, my schedule. I'm a junior this year, next year i'll stress about colleges, then the year after that i´ll be gone.

Was I ready to leave? It didn't matter in a few days trucks would come to help us move on.

Introduction

Throughout the process of crafting this essay, I learned the value of concise and descriptive writing. Prior to this paper, I firmly believed that strong descriptive writing was the key to a successful essay, and that it was necessary to sacrifice all other criteria (such as the word count) in favor of it. My perspective on revising my writing has changed, as I now see that the removal of excess description is not done solely in the interest of meeting the word count. It also serves to increase the overall quality of the final product. Even if the words paint a beautiful image, the essay might still be so abstract that it only holds meaning to the painter. This is the goal of my personal essay: to communicate a concept, experience, or lesson to the readers, and to push myself to improve my writing skills instead of masking an average paper with excessive decorations.

Decisions and Journeys

Taking action, making a decision and acting upon it, can feel impossible at times. I remember a time when indecision and not taking action took me far from home.

It started as I stood at the platform in 30th Street Station, the crowd bustling about. The loudspeakers burst to life, bellowing out the name of the train I was eagerly awaiting. A train pulled up to the platform, and I followed the boisterous crowd aboard, plopping down on a half-occupied two-seater. I sat with a man who stood up two stops later, announced he no longer needed his all-day pass, and abandoned it on the train.

When the following stop was announced, I felt the first inkling of uncertainty. The station names were unfamiliar, and I did not recognize the somewhat familiar faces I usually saw on my way home. With each passing stop, I argued with myself: should I ask what train I was on? Or could I be on the right one? I made up reasons why scenery I passed was so different: “It’s incredible,” I marveled, “I must pass these trees and houses daily, yet only now am I truly seeing them!”

I spent a few more stops debating whether or not I should ask which train I was on, getting further and further from home, trapped in indecision. Before I could ask anyone the name of the train line, it came to a halt at its final destination: Trenton.

My heart pounded with the speed of the roadrunner and the force of a hydraulic press, but then my panic was disrupted as I recalled the discarded all-day pass. Saved! I used the pass to travel back to 30th Street Station, and then home.

Would I find taking action easier in the future? I soon had an opportunity to put that to the test. I had the chance to have my nose pierced. Should I do it? Would it hurt? Would I regret it? This time, perhaps strengthened by previous experiences of acting or not acting, I was ready to take action.

My journey began on South Street, inside the back room of Infinite Piercing. I hopped up onto a table exactly like one that you might find in a doctor’s office… a sturdy wooden frame topped with an oblong, pine green, pleather cushion. It took up most of the room, and was set dead-center, as if it were a stage. My mom sat down in the chair on the right side of the door. The person who was to do my piercing closed the door behind us. The person wiped down my nose with a cool cloth and it felt as if my nose felt like it was trapped inside a closed tupperware container full of hand sanitizer. Then came the piercing. Suddenly, a peculiar sensation started at a single point on my nose. The feeling was like a tiny sparkler. It was pain.

“Yep. There is a needle in my nose. A needle is going through my nose,” my brain stated matter-of-factly. The rest of my face melted away. It was as if my consciousness was a duck, and my awareness of everything except my face was water flowing off of the duck’s back.

And in that moment, I was witness to a bizarre phenomenon; a rare exception to what would generally be considered a faux pas. There was a stranger’s finger in my nose.

Then it was done.

I looked in the mirror, and for the first time in a while, I liked my face. Taking action had brought me closer to home, to feeling like myself.

Ultimately, decisions result in action. Whether positive or negative, actions have consequences and result in experience. I am beginning to trust my ability to make decisions based on a gut instinct. On the train, I froze and ignored my own misgivings, my inaction taking me away from my destination, my home. On the green table at Infinite Piercing, I trusted my ability to make a decision, and my action took my toward my destination, self-confidence. Whether it’s a train to get home or a nose piercing to feel more at home in myself, I am learning to navigate my existence on many levels.

A few years ago my sister, Celita, and I always took late night walks. We would walk Hunting park to Juniata even to the boulevard.  Where we would just talk about our future, past, and present.

“Do you ever think she’ll change soon? She responds,

“I don’t know Orlando, she's missing out on you and how much your growing which pisses me off. “

“Just hope she is able to be a parent and help me when I enter high school next year. Because a boy graduates next week.”  I say.

My sister replies “Hopefully she can go. I know you want her to go deep down to see if she's willing to change.

  The night before graduation. I try on khaki pants with my lemonade dress shirt, yellow, white and navy blue striped bow tie, and navy blue suspenders. to calm my nerves. While doing so I practice my cum laude speech a few times. Once I finished I went to my mom’s room, a beige door to ask

“Mom, you have to be up by 7 tomorrow I'll call and check if you're up okay? I get no answer which leaves me curious if she heard me.

“See you tomorrow I can't wait!”

Graduation morning, I woke up at 6:30.  Brushed my teeth and got dressed in the downstairs bathroom. I make a left to head up to check if Angely is ready. Once I see her I say

“Damn Somebody looks really simple and beautiful” she smiles because I look really sharp and a bit mature.

“Did you call your mom to see if she's up?” She asks

So I call her and she doesn't answer so I call twice, three times, the fourth time she answers. “HEY momma you up? On your way?” I ask and she replies with an

“I can't go I have to work I told you.

Once I heard “I can't” I become so heartbroken and beyond furious.

Graduation time and I have nobody to witness me say my lovely speech to the students and receive 4 awards. I'm so happy but broken. A wound that will never heal because it’s an event that will never happen again. An event I did so well in and she missed it for a fucking job. I was so upset she didn't go because wanted to learn and understand that her addiction was something she is struggling with. I just wanted to see that she was trying, that Michelle my mom actually wanted to be a part of my life which she hasn't since.

To be able to feel like a kid I will just stay at my best friend's house. Where I was able to breathe and put the adult pants to the side. I would go every weekend even on holidays.  My mom noticed which made her jealous. New years eve was amazing everybody danced including my mom. Believe it or not, the first time I ever felt connected and seen some me and her. The beautiful Festive day turned into a nightmare. It began when my mom started to call me names to make me irritated, in order to avoid I moved away. 2 am she is still up and everybody wants to go sleep so they hide the extension.  My mom asks me to bring down the extension in her room but I told her

“no she's drunk”.  

After I said that she went upstairs and started a fight, it became physical and she choked me for a good minute then my sister pulled her off. She then  tells me

“Get the fuck out now. Go to Felix house since you love them more.”  I say confused

“I will don't worry. They treat me more like a son than you ever have. Don't worry I won't be here for long.

During the night I cried, just reflecting on how the Alcohol is taking over her life. She is more aggressive and inhuman towards her own kids; this shifted what my view on my mother was. It also made me feel life threatened.

The feeling of being unsafe continued. So one night she came home drunk started a fight with my sister over her graduation. The fight got worse and my mom left for the bar. This made me feel so uncomfortable in my own house so I had to text Lehmann.

“Hey I'm sorry it's late, but I don't feel safe in my house. My mom is drunk. She got into a fight with my sister and I feel unsafe. I say. He responds

“Orlando it's not a problem, I have to pick you up if you don't feel safe. Can you send me your address.”

15 mins later Lehmann came with cops and got me out safe. The next day I had a talk with Martin and Lehmann about her behavior and that I didn't want to go back. I started to live with my best friend Felix.

Weeks later Court approached. Waiting for a courtroom is the most terrible feeling. I felt so many emotions from rejected to enraged. But there was always a piece in me was always wanting to see if she’ll change. That piece wanted her to come and at least fight for me. 3 hours passed and no sign of her. This made me realize that no matter what I'll be the only one there to help and support myself.

The most important people in your life are usually your parents, they show you the right from wrong in this cruel world. They guide you and set a model for you to follow. In this case that is not for me. I had no type of relationship with Michelle my mother. Due to the fact she’s a drug addict. Being a drug addict/parent can ruin a relationship in a matter of months. So you have to fend on your own in order to succeed and live a healthy life.

I Didn’t Jump I Was Pushed

We turned the corner to the sounds of screaming. Just what we had been looking for. As we walked out of the forest into the light the sounds intensified and relief filled my body. The green trees were a beautiful background as sticks stopped crunching beneath our feet and gave way to smooth stone. Before us was a beautiful blue lake the deepest type of blue. We saw a boy jump as we got closer, the water rushing up to meet him. Splash. Yup I was back in Maine alright. Bar Harbor to be exact. It had been the location of our summer home for a long as I had been aware. I hadn’t been to my home state in six months and whenever I go back I always think about how much life had changed.

My middle school was in Auburn, Maine. A solid eight-hour drive from Philadelphia. I didn’t really fit in there. I had my friends but they weren’t truly my friends, they weren’t the type of people that I could trust the way I wanted to. I didn’t have much confidence at all, I let people walk all over me. I wondered how to change all the time. How to be cool, how to look like nothing bothered me like the coolest kids did. At that time we didn’t have much money. My dad, my brother and I all squeezed into a one-bedroom apartment for a year with no air-conditioning. Kids would say they loved my shoes. Mocking. I wore new balances, oblivious, and when the teasing started I didn’t have other shoes. I tried to change, tried to figure out what made me such an easy target. I told myself late at night that I would stop doing certain things and people would leave me alone. I had almost achieved my goal when my dad told me we were moving.

There was a lower jump and mom said we should take that first so we walked down the small path. I could feel my sandals losing their novelty as I slid-walked down the dirt path. My first experience with jumping off ledges into bodies of water had been off a bridge. That time it had taken me 40 minutes to jump. Off this little jump I drilled myself that I was going to jump in right away and that’s what I did. Straight up, then down, sinking, cold, and air again.     

“Oh wow Micah,” my mom. She jumped in after, the water jumping away from her straight up into the air. I was anxious as I got out of the water. It was time for the big jump.

I remember being so nervous my first day of school at SLA. I wasn’t wearing new balances but I was acutely aware of anything someone might find wrong with me in this alien place. But I was hopeful, I could be whoever I wanted in this new place.

My first friend at SLA was Mamadou Samassa one of my closest friend now. Basketball started and I made friend after friend and I was different but not really. I copied the way they talked but I also laughed more, we went out everyday. School was fun, interesting I liked my classmates and I could just chill be me.

As I climbed back up the path I remembered that the trick is to not think. I got on the back of the cliff got a running start and jumped… up then down, down straight into the water fast way too fast. Crash. I let myself sink for moments, my heart still racing then pushed myself back up where the air was.

“How was it,” my grandmother.

“Scary,” I said. “Very scary.”

I jumped into Philly in the same manner. Thrust into a completely new situation yet I didn’t jump I was pushed. Cliff jumping had nothing had on that day. I changed a little but not as much as I thought. I had friends we called each other brothers and I tried to be kind to everybody to be someone my middle school me would like. I think a lot of people think there’s something wrong with them when they’re in a situation that’s not working out. That for some reason they’re missing something everybody else, that they’ll be stuck as a caterpillar forever, but I don’t think that’s the case.  Maybe some of us just need a little bit more time in our cocoon.