Fuzz has taken over
It surrounds me
Holds me tight
Moves my legs
left, right, left, right
Keeps my chin to my chest
Head numbed
Forget everything else, forget everything else
It’s just you and me
Padding between me and everything else
safe
leave it all behind, leave it all behind, leave it all behind.. leave it all behind….
Dear Ryn,
I’ve always wanted to get to know you better. You seem like such a kind person, but sometimes I’m not so sure. You try so hard, so so hard, to be kind to others, but in doing that are unkind to yourself. I don’t think I can truly call you kind, until you are kind to the most important person in your life. I’ll be kind to you always. I swear! So you can learn what it feels like.
I’d love to get to together and learn more about you. What I already know is so intriguing, the way you love animals and are always prepared for everything. I know your the mom of your group and the way you care for your friends is so endearing. I’d like to care for you like that.
Your taste in food is impeccable, and I noticed how when you try something delicious you always try and get everyone to taste it, too. But your allowed more than a spoonful of delicious things. I can get you more.
I like you,
I think I might even love you.
Do you feel the same?
YES/NO
Love,
Ryn
The warm scent scent
It smells like nature
like home
Flipping through the pages
They vibrates
sound like waves
tickle the ears
soft paper lulling
it envelopes
turns into a cocoon
outsiders are unwelcome
fall inside
the binding there to secure
soft thread
like a quilt
warm and comforting
You’ll be safe here
Sometimes I think about melting away
I would just lay in the grass
The soft threads cradling me
I would slowly be absorbed in the dirt,
fertilizing the soil
the grass covering me like a blanket as I slip
deeper
I would stare up at the sky
lazy clouds drifting
the sun like a fireplace
cozy and warm
I would slip
and slip
Until I was whole again
**start**
the lights are too bright
the sounds are too loud
the scents are too strong
everything comes with such ferocity
i just want to ask
“please go slower”
the dizziness
the hurried breaths
the dull buzzing between my ears
everything…
everything……
everything……………
**end**
i can cope
it’ll never be perfect
but i am able to function
things still go too fast sometimes
but i’m not paralyzed by it
the lights are there
the sounds are there
the scents are there
but i am here.
“You’re not like other girls,” he tells her as he not-so-subtly shoves his hand down her pants.
“I’m not like other girls,” she tells them flaunting her bare face and flipping her dirty, unbrushed hair.
Yeah. Okay. But what does that even mean? What are other girls like? And what is wrong with them? Why is it so bad to be like them?
Let’s stop creating unnecessary competition between girls. All girls are great. Girls shouldn’t feel the need to separate themselves from everyone else just because of stereotypes. Being a girl who is like all other girls is fine.
People tend to feel this huge need to differentiate themselves from the crowd. We claim that we’re weird because we wear false lashes to the grocery store or have never had a drop of foundation touch our face, but, newsflash, there are millions of people exactly like you. That does not make you special or unique.
But that’s okay.
Being like everyone else is not always bad. Do what feels right to you even if everyone else is doing that. Be different if that feels right, but stop putting down others to make yourself feel better.
“Differentness” does not automatically make anyone special or better; it just makes them different. They are neither superior nor inferior. These differences also shouldn’t be used to discriminate. Small idiosyncrasies should not be as big a deal as some people make them out to be.
No one is exactly the same. Normal is a fake concept. Most of these differences are social constructs that do not mean anything in the big picture.
What I mean by all this is don’t be ashamed of who you are. Straight teeth or red lipstick won’t make you a good or bad person. Own who you are. Make the qualities that other’s call bad and show them how great they actually are.
Choose what you think is most important to make person worth knowing and work towards that. Don’t change yourself, instead learn how to work with your qualities. And don’t put others down for being basic or being different.
Do the things that you see as admirable in others.
Find your own meaning to life and run with it.
Here are poems from the chapbook I made for a poetry class.
There is only one building left
Over 100 stories high and it keeps growing
It’s more of a skyscraper than a building
Massive
All the other buildings have been left to waste away
The hotter climate has caused forests to grow
where they’ve never grown before
Foliage takes over the plains that were once populated
Given time nature can recover,
But time is the thing people always think they are short of
There are no humans though
Only a single robot is left to maintain everything
But more than the building,
It’s what’s inside
Inside
Timmy Phillips
Adventure
Exploration was dead til we came here
Now:
Unlimited miles of blue ocean
As many undiscovered islands as can be imagined
So much to see
So much to experience
Magic as reality
Dragons as pets
People with wings
Life is a fairytale
A storybook
Who would ever tire of such a life?
Jordan Wilson
Used to be
I purchased shelter
food
fun
friends
happiness
love
But currency is unnecessary now
With endless resources, money is worthless
All the work I put in before: worthless
All the work I do now: worthless
They say to do what makes me happy
To have fun without earning it
Everything is meaningless
Annalise Robertson
Golden locks
Bright blue eyes
Unmarked porcelain skin
Long lean legs
Perfectly proportioned
Symmetrical
It does not matter anymore
Anyone can look like that
I can look however I want
I feel free, I guess,
But also confused
What matters anymore?
Genetics are a joke
My beauty is obsolete
After knowingly using it for years
What do I do now?
Robert Anderson
Starving
Jobless
Lonely
Depression
Jealousy
Pain
It does not matter anymore
Everyone has enough
I can do what I want
I feel free
But also confused
Everything is different now
Everything is a joke
People are obsolete
After having no place for years
What do I do now?
Daisies pop up through the cracked sidewalks
Oak trees crack the tiled floors of abandoned hotels
Ivy climbs up skyscrapers
Dragging them back toward the ground
Weeds reclaim their property
Moss breaks down highways
Tall grasses hide guardrails
Billboards covered by flowered tendrils
Berries litter the ground, blown around by the wind
Plants aplenty,
No one to partake
The one building left
Untouched by human hands
It is impossible to tell how tall it has become
Geometric corners separate it from the wilderness
Tall grass surrounds the building,
But thick concrete walls prevent invasion
The towering structure lacks personality:
There are no windows
There are no doors
There are no colors
There are no textures
There are no people
A sterile inside matches the outside
White walls match white floors
Accented by metal tables,
Kept at a constant 62 degrees fahrenheit
The lower levels are filled with giant metal freezers
Inside the only evidence of humanity’s physical life
Four feet tall
Metallic, blocky body
Sharp sensors for eyes
Small rubber wheels to move
Carefully contracted hands,
able to handle the most fragile objects
A hard drive connected to the building
The ability to know everything that happens
Security guard,
Custodian,
Programmer,
Engineer,
Carpenter,
Nurturer,
Protector
A single console sits at the heart of the building
Extremities snake out from it in all directions
Tall, metal boxes line the floors above
New metal boxes are added every day
They are the homes of humanity’s memories
And its future
The console has one screen
It’s dark
Because there’s no one to see
Yet
Everything
.
.
.
Everything
.
.
.
Everything… has been done
.
.
Nothing left
No… more…
.
.
So… tired…
sleep…. now
.
I look to it, cocking my head to the side, and it follows the motion with its own head. I lift myself up higher to check its neck. No collar. It’s a stray. As a settle back into a squatting position, I meet its clear, green eyes. Quickly glancing down, I rip my gaze from its. Those eyes saw too much.
Lately, school has been more difficult. Getting out of bed in the morning is impossible when that’s the only reason. Listening to people complain about the unimportant things, his mom wants him to pick up some eggs, her package will come a day late, the internet’s a little slow today, I am confounded. Why are they worried about those things when people are starving and would love to be able to afford some eggs, would love to have the money to order that coat, or have a computer to use at all. How fortunate these people are, yet so ungrateful.
I needed to get home.
I look back at the half-starved creature in front of me. I, too, was selfish. Unable to even see this small creature in front of me who I actually had the power to help. Why try to change world hunger when I can’t even look past myself enough to see the starving neighborhood cats?
Jogging into the convenience store, I buy a small can of Fancy Feast and a paper bowl. I quickly return to the green-eyed feline. It hasn’t moved. It just stays seated on a cardboard box that seems to double as its home. After pulling open the small can of cat-food, I dump the contents into the stiff, cardboard bowl and stand there. I’m not sure how to approach the stray. How used was it to humans? I, a fellow human, was barely able to tolerate other people. Their intentions are never clear. Did they want to hurt or to help?
I slowly stoop down setting the bowl on the ground and backing away. I keep my eyes on the cat the whole time, and it returns my stare with its own distrusting eyes. I understood it. I leave the immobile cat and continue my walk down the street, deciding to return home without checking if the cat ate.
The next day I return to the cat’s small alleyway to see if it had eaten. I slowly turn the corner into the alley and look for the cat. It sits in the same spot at before, still watching me. I look to the spot a few feet in front of it and see the bowl. It is still full.
I can’t blame the cat for not trusting me. Most people don’t, but that’s probably because I don’t trust them either. I’m not the kind of person who needs other people. How unreliable are other humans. We make promises and forget about them. And even if we remembered, sometime we can’t even be bothered to keep promises if they ask for a little to much. Without anything to gain, be that money, rewards, or just reputation, we do nothing. People are so selfish.
Especially me. Why did I feed the cat yesterday? To satisfy my own sick need to feel generous, or maybe I wanted to feel superior to other people who didn’t feed this cat. But I’m not even sure of my own feelings, so why am I assuming so much about other people?
I shake my head, trying to shake out the useless thoughts. Even if people do things with selfish intentions, does that make the action less giving? I guess it wouldn’t take food out of the bellies of the people that are helped with these egotistical motives. Less cautiously than yesterday, I approach the cat. I stop at the bowl and chuck it into the dumpster at the opening of the alley.
“Do you like dry food better?” I pull out the small bag I had slipped into my backpack that morning and shake some of the pellets into another paper bowl. Dropping the food on the ground, I stoop so my eyes are level with the cat’s. The stare is as intimidating as before.
The cat turns its body so light hits the parts of its body that had been hidden by the darkness yesterday. Now, I see the irregularities in the cat’s fur created by raised scars along with its prominent ribcage. Although there is no collar around the neck, I see now that the fur there is matted with blood. Instinctively, I reach for my own throat, but find only smooth skin. It is surprising how effective time is at healing.
I looked back to the cat’s eyes. It jumps down from its perch and takes a couple steps toward me. I offer a closed fist to it over the new bowl of food. Its accusing eyes watch me for a couple seconds but then slowly it approaches my hand and sniffs it, closing its eyes. Reopening its eyes, it looks back at me and seems to nod. I could stay for now, but I couldn’t touch. I pull back my extended arm and watch as the cat examines the food. Carefully, it selects a piece and eats it. I watch as the cat slowly eats the rest of the food, but when about half the food is gone, it stops and nudges the bowl toward me. Is it offering me the rest? Laughing, I pull out the bag of food again and refill the bowl, pushing it back to the cat. With that I lean back on my heals and follow my momentum out of the alley.
I never saw that cat again. I like to think that someone kind brought it home, although there isn’t anyway for me to know the truth. Maybe it got hit by a car or starved, but somewhere in my mind, inexplicably, I know it is alive and well.
Although I was blind to it before, I see people’s mindless complaints as attempts to talk to me. I guess I was placing myself in the dark corner, no one else had put me there. And although some people have bad intentions for good deeds, their thoughts aren’t malicious, so I guess that can be taken with a grain of salt.
Maybe the world isn’t as bad as I had wanted to think.
Sailor Rynni