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a space for youth writing on mental health & identity
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a space for youth writing on mental health & identity
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Do you remember when you sat beneath The great pine in the yard with your sister? You told her that trees are like great lungs, The way they branch out and peel into the sky. The week after, she stood with your mother At the corner when a car turned over and Spat glass at them. To Laurelin, the promise of the dawn held no promise at all. She slowly opened her eyes, staring blankly at the golden orb rising up from the horizon. She did not blame the sun for performing its daily task. In a way, she envied the joyful way it radiated light out of its soul, uncaring of who looked, or what they felt. The world is quiet at 10:30 AM.. Last night's rainstorm pools on the ground as I sit, finally eating breakfast, instant ramen dripping on my navy sweatpants. How can something feel so foreign and familiar on my tongue at once? Days, weeks, months, begging for answers, subjecting myself to testing and questions and pain, all to be left where I started. No closer or farther from understanding myself. I cry when I am first told it's true and cry again when the doctors change their minds. Is there anything really wrong with me? Why is no one able to decide? The bitter taste of acid is unexpected and unpleasant, and it turns as sweet as honey the minute I start to choke. [Content warning: death] April 14th, 1912… Passengers, captain, crew, staff and Thomas Andrews himself impotently watched the once deemed “Unsinkable” Titanic sink to its culmination in the depths of the icy cold waters of the Atlantic Ocean taking down Her grandeur and glory. September 11th, 2001… Americans and the rest of the world watched helplessly while two planes rammed into the World Trade Center, symbols of the economic monopoly of the Americans. |
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Unless otherwise noted, all pictures used are open-source images in the public domain. Archives
March 2024
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