Creative Writing

Don’t Touch Me
Benie N’sumbu 1/19

I recently read in The Guardian that we’re becoming a less touching society. People aren’t touching each other like they once did for fear of giving off the wrong impression. I also saw a PSA by the Girl Scouts of America around the holidays urging parents not to force their children to hug relatives (or anyone for that matter) if they don’t feel like it. The PSA said that forcing young children to respond to adults with some kind of physical contact can lead to adverse, lasting effects as they get older. The fear is that young girls will think they have to acquiesce when it comes to physical contact when they get older, which will give them an distorted understanding of relationships.
I felt conflicted. Before the article about touch, I had begun writing my own piece about not wanting to be touched and how no one should force me to touch anyone I don’t want to. But, after reading The Guardian piece, I wondered if maybe I’m hurting myself by having a zero-tolerance policy about touch.
To me, touch is such an intimate form of contact. Whether it be a handshake or a hug, to me any kind of touch feels personal. I am already uncomfortable when it comes to verbal intimacy; I don’t usually like to express my thoughts and emotions, but touching takes vulnerability to a whole other level. When someone comes in for a hug with me or outstretches their hand for a shake, my body clams up and the relaxed posture I may have had moments before instantly stiffens. I suddenly feel like an open blister exposed to cool air. It’s uncomfortable and it hurts sometimes.
My aversion to touch is not something that sprung up out of thin air. As a child, I always hugged my friends or found some way to make physical contact with them because it made me feel close to them. However, after one-too-many experiences of unwanted physical contact, I shut myself off from any type of touch and swore that I would only touch people I felt the closest to.
Well, I’m 17, and I still can’t find it in me to willingly hug my friends. The thought of giving them a high-five never even enters my mind when we’re joking around at lunch. I’m starting to see the negative effects of this because now when I am going through a rough time and could benefit from some emotional comfort, everyone around me thinks that it’s better to just leave me be.
It’s astonishing (and heartbreaking) to me that while my touch aversion first started out as a defense mechanism, now that I am older and out of the original danger, I find that in an effort to protect myself, I’ve sabotaged my ability to connect with people emotionally. And even though being left alone is not what I want now, how do I go about changing so that I’m not uncomfortable with physical affection from the people I love?
In the article, researcher Kellie Payne--who is also the policy manager at the Campaign to End Loneliness--explains that lack of touch due to prior negative experiences leads to anticipation of negative consequences with people “which makes it hard to reinstate contact.” I see now that the longer I continued my strike on touch, the more I associated negative emotions with it. Furthermore, by robbing myself of touch I hurt my relationships with those around me. I can see my friend’s smile shrink when I inadvertently dodge her hug and I cringe as people profusely apologize to me once they see me wince if they grab my arm while laughing. These are things that shouldn’t affect me as much as they do, things that most people wouldn’t even notice, and yet here they are consuming my thoughts.
I think the first step to changing this habit is to find out if I’m ready to make the conscious effort to stop doing this to myself. Touch shouldn’t be something that we teach our kids to fear, because we need it. Instead of giving a bad reputation on physical contact, we should instead teach one another that touch is good; it’s okay as long as it’s coming from a safe source. And most importantly, "no means no." Touch is only okay if you consent to being touched; normalizing verbal communication regarding intimacy is pertinent to reversing our touch-averse society.
Knowing what I know now, I wish I’d had someone to remind me that touch could be positive and teach me the importance of consent. Sometimes a simple gesture, such as asking someone if they would like a hug, could change so much for a person. I know, because it did for me.
So please don’t touch me…without asking first. And respect my decision if I choose to say no.

The Elusive Mysteries of Life
Benie N'sumbu 12/18

The bed cries as I twist once again; my body is craving the cool touch of the other side of the sheets. My eyes burst open, but my vision is blurry because of the absence of light. When they adjust to the darkness, I reach over for my phone and see that it is 2:17 AM. This is the third night in a row that I have woken up so early in the morning. Usually it’s because I’m so concerned about school that even in my sleep my brain is overworking itself to the point where it can’t keep me asleep and worry about college at the same time. Its multitasking abilities are deteriorating. But tonight I am not overstimulated by anxiety over school. In fact, I am rather relaxed. For once, there is no weariness pulling down my eyelids. The longer I stay awake, the more my mind begins to drift into the abyss of random late-night musings.
   I do not believe that there are monsters who hide under children’s beds, but I do like the idea that when the last porch light turns off and there is no sound but the gentle hum of cars on the highways, nocturnal organisms come out to experience the world without the disturbance of human interference. This idea gives me some comfort on nights like this when it feels like I am the only person awake in the world, because it reminds that there is more to our world than we are exposed to on a daily basis.
   I am not religious by any means, but I’ve always been a little envious of theistic people because they have the comfort of knowing that even when they pass, there will be something or someone waiting for them in the afterlife. Unfortunately for me, when I was born, my brain formed in such a way that the regions that dictate religious faith will not allow me to dismiss the rationalizations continuously provided by my frontal lobe. It might be possible for me to maintain rational thought and still hold a religious belief if I wanted to, but that dichotomy is too overwhelming. At this time it is not possible for me to believe in a mystic being or afterlife and also claim to be a woman of science and reasoning.
   But I do want the reassurance that everything will be okay after I die. Lack of security, lack of faith in an afterlife terrifies me so much that I can’t think about my own death without raising my blood pressure. So when I am alone at night I like to imagine that there are living creatures coming out of the cracks and crevices they’ve been hiding in all day. It temporarily reassures me that there is more to life than the everyday mundane dealings that keep me occupied until bedtime. It lets me know that even when I am gone, the world continues on living. Sadly for me, that doesn’t really give me the answers I am looking for about the possibility of an afterlife and I am slowly coming to terms with this. Someone once told me that an ignorant person claims to know everything and an intelligent person acknowledges that they do not know everything; part of my intellectual growth is accepting the fact that I will not always have answers to my questions and mysterious things like an afterlife will most likely remain elusive for the remainder of my lifetime.
   As my eyes finally close, a car drives by outside and a dog barks as if the universe is letting me know that it’s okay to sleep; the world isn’t going anywhere anytime soon.

Letter from my future self
Jai’Dyn Johnson 10/18

Dear Jai’Dyn,

Always remain humble and never forget where you come from. People may try to drag you through the dirt, but you can’t let them. They also will say and do things to hurt you, but always stay ten toes down.
You’re beautiful and smart; stop telling yourself you’re not. Your worth a lot more than you think. You may not know it now, but you will soon learn it.
Just use your brain because sometimes you think before you speak and you say and do things you don’t mean.
Also, it’s okay to let certain friendships go because some people are toxic. And all you need is good vibes and positivity.
Jai’Dyn don’t let yourself go. Keep pushing so you can graduate and catch up with me. You don’t know what your future holds but I do J.

Sincerely,
Future you

Branching Out

The thing about family is you don’t get to choose which one you belong to, but you get this feeling of love, warmth, and joy from it. Almost like that feeling you get when you smell grandma’s freshly made apple pie, or the feeling you get when you are sick and mom makes you some chicken noodle soup.
Although we may not resemble each other, we’re Family...we’re a whole. I love my family like a toddler loves its brand new, flaming red toy race car.
I know where I came from, a family of love and hope. I also know where I want to go. A place where my family is included and the path is clear ahead of me. A path with a family where I hear love within the silence. Because with “Family,” you build of a series of emotions.
I’m one of many in my family. I’m the one who calls the shots, the one who sits and grows branches on a broken tree.

Starry Night
Mei Ling Spears

Blue eyes shine in moonlight,
In the starry black backdrop.

What do you see,
When you look at the stars?

I see you look at the stars in the sky,
With longing in your eyes.

With wonder and hope,
You want something more than this.

World
Mei Ling Spears

Vision of light and colors
Religion and silenced lies.
Never forgiven because
They don’t understand.
You hurt others so much
Yet you’re hurting inside too.

Pain Is a Joke To You
Mei Ling Spears

Vision of destruction,
Religion is foolish to you.
People never forgive you,
But I do.

Waking up alone,
Rushing to your safe place,
Just to feel something.

Dripping blood,
Is spilling,
Running all around you.

Rips and tears in your mind,
yet you’ve still got a special place in my heart.

Seeing Through Transparency
Piper Zschack

A glass rests on the table.
Half full or half empty?
I have never been able
to answer that question.
It seems to be an impossible task,
one that requires me to ask
was water poured in?
Or did it pour out?
That’s what the question should be about.

When water’s poured in, dropped from the clouds,
it builds an ocean; flooring me.
And yet it still shrouds
the answer that begs imploringly
to be seen.
Does this mean the glass is half full?
Or is there more that we can glean?

What of when the glass starts full?
Till water spills
like a leaking ship’s hull
and trickles away until the scene stills
There’s more to the glass than transparency can see.
Does this mean the glass is half empty?
I think I know what the answer could be.

A glass rests on the table.
Half full or half empty?
I now know that it’s neither.
It’s a modus vivendi.
And I’m a believer
that you can’t see the glass for what it is
until you’ve seen where it’s been.

the wind
Hajar El Bouamri 10/18

the wind is a graceful element of air
brushing your hair against your eyes
not being able to see for a while
realizing how it can affect you at that very moment
the rose petals and autumn leaves follow it’s unforgettable path
opening your eyes just to make sure it wasn’t a dream
because the wind is powerful, the wind is free
the wind is me

The days I got murdered
Nyla Kibler 3/19

Warning: This is the book of a girl that has gone wild in the days before her sister's wedding. Be very aware about what is going to happen...

Day 1: Wedding Ideas

“Anna, it has been 2 days since Ross put a ring on your hand.”
  “Mom, I know but I want to get a head start for the wedding and since it’s in the spring. I want to have a spring wonderland wedding and I want a big wedding.
  “But honey, isn’t it too soon to start even-- oh hang on. Someone is calling me. Hello, this is Michelle speaking.
  “Hello, mother. It has been 25 years. Hey, I was wondering how long are you going to keep this lie from her. I mean sooner or later she is going to find out. No matter how many times you pay me to go away, I will always find you. By the way, I think the red roses and lilies are better together. I mean it shows how much bloodshed you did in order to get rid of me,” Michelle said.
  “Hey Miss Turner, someone ordered these flowers for you,” said the woman at the counter.
  “Thank you?”
  “Oh mom!” said Anna. “Did daddy send them to you?
  “No, daddy did not send these flowers to me because daddy knows that I don't like roses and lilies. Anna, let's go home and start planning the wedding. Okay, you know what? Can you get us some food while I call daddy about something?”
  Marie calls her husband. “Bill, Bill, it's her again. She found me and Anna! Wait, what do you mean she found you and Anna. It's been 25 year. The last time we saw her she was 3 years old. What else does she want from us unless she found out what happened years before?”
  “Honey,” Bill said. “That’s impossible. How could she know about it? The only way--shit! Holly must have told her. Holly has always been by her side since they were 3.”
  “Hey mom,” said Anna. “I got our food. Ready to eat?”
  “Yes, I will talk to you when we get home from the flower shop,” she said and hung up.

(3 hours later)

  “Honey, we're home. Where are you?” Michelle called out. “Anna, I'm going going upstairs to daddy. You try to call our wedding planner on the phone.”
  “Okay!”
  "Bill, Bill! What are we--Wait. Let's close the door. While they thought they closed the door, Anna was listening to the whole thing.
  “Anna cannot know about her sister,” Michelle said to Bill. “She cannot know about Magan’s first death as a baby and how the doctor found her a day later still “alive.” And let's not forget her powers.”
  “Honey, you’re right. We need to figure out what do with Magan.
  Anna was trying to figure out what do.

The Hammer of History
Nadia S. Gaskins 3/19

Black. History.
I’ll say it again.
BLACK. History.
Dragged through the sludge of concealment.
Sewn together with the needle of ignorance,
And the threads of oblivion.
Shoved down the throats of the oppressed.
Locked away six feet
         Under
In the casket of abandonment.
This can’t be known, never tell.

White. History.
I’ll say it again.
WHITE. History.
Lifted over the achievements of the “minorities.”
Paraded through the gardens of glory,
And down the streets of justification.
Locked away in the glass case of eternity.

Theft twisted into worshipped achievements.
Labor left as it was…
“For the savages.”
Truth cast into the pits of forgetfulness.
Inventions stamped with the names of robber barons.

Dreams crushed under racism’s hammer.
Do you dare challenge my views?
How about you stand on the other side of History’s mirror and answer me this one question:
Am I wrong?

Alone
Ny-Airra Houston 3/19

The past few days were nothing but confusing and weird but I’m here sitting in the foster home the social worker’s placed me in.
They’re nice people but I wish I had my own room to do the things I need to do and for the girl I share a room with to mind her business. She's always asking me “why are you here?”, “what happened in my life?”, “why I became so quiet?”, “why I don’t talk to her or anyone else?” I be wanting to scream at her but I can’t, I just can’t. It wouldn't be right even though she was bugging me with these damn questions I CLEARLY DON’T WANT TO TALK ABOUT. My social worker came and asked me how I was holding up. I told her what's been going on and how I was doing. She mentioned therapy and I was kind of scared to say yes because I know I need it but then again I don't want to talk to a stranger about my problems. I just said yes to it so she could go away. She told me I start next Tuesday.

The days went by quick. Today is the day I go to therapy. I don't know how I feel about it. Ever since what happened I’ve had no emotion, but today, the day I start therapy, I feel nervous, nervous to talk to a stranger about what happened, nervous to say why I became so distant, so quiet. I walked into the office and signed in and they took me to where I would be meeting my therapist. I waited about 5 minutes, then BOOM, she came in. My heart was pounding like crazy. I tried to calm down but you could see it in my face, you could see that I was shaking in my chair . She introduced herself , her name was Lola , Lola Peterson . I tried to introduce myself but nothing came out. She found that weird I guess because she was looking at me strange and I knew why .
She told me, “that it's okay to speak and that I need to calm down.”
I took her advice and calmed myself down. I got up, told her my name was “Kia , Kia Brown,” and shook her hand.
The first session went by quick; I kind of opened up to her. I told her my parents had died and she asked how. I told her that was for another day.
My foster parents came to pick me up and let me remind you I never spoke to them until today. It felt like something changed inside me that felt good.
They asked me, “how was your first session?”
      “It went good,” I said.
      They asked, “Did you open up a little?”
      I said, “Yes , yes I did.”

We arrived at our house, 22 Fourth Main Street. It was quiet , very quiet. I didn't like it. “Was it always this quiet? I asked myself. It set off a weird vibe. I got out the car and took a look around. That's when I saw something , something weird , something tall. It was a man standing at the corner of my block looking at me. I stood there, quiet--not scared, just quiet. That's when my foster parents asked me “what was I looking at?”
I turned to them and said nothing. I looked back , then boom. He was gone , gone in a flash. I walked into the house and went straight to my room without saying anything to anybody. I sat down on my bed and started thinking , thinking hard. I wasn't scared of the bad thoughts I was thinking; that's normal for me, to be honest with you. I wasn’t scared at all.
I kept asking myself “who was that strange man?” over and over again. I dozed off and woke up from a nightmare that didn't scare me but it hit my heart like a bullet. I sat up, rewinding what had happened in my dream. My dream was about a man doing a home invasion on my foster parents’ house, killing everybody but me, once again.
It felt weird because the first time it happened , it happened in real life. It happened to people I loved dearly. It broke me, but that's another story for another time.

Creative Writers Perform at Annual Metamorphosis Showcase

The Sun is Me
Malyiah Mullings 3/19

The sun is a graceful feeling in the air.
Shining against your skin. Burning you.
Not being able to hide from it.
Realizing how it can affect you at that very moment.
The sun follows you as you travel in its unforgettable path.
Opening your eyes to make sure it’s still bright and yellow
because the sun is hot, the sun is shining, the sun is me.

The Beauty of Destruction
Eliza Vargas 3/19

There is beauty in the destruction
In mine
Yours
And life

The beauty of the pain that has been passed down
Generation after generation
The smiles that have been paused at one specific moment in time and kept on repeat for years to come
The pain that has stayed for years and will continue on forevermore

The beauty of the hurt is that it doesn’t hurt more than the memory
It sticks to your mind like industrial glue
Haunting you for each year and trigger to come

And the beauty of destruction
The oh so beautiful beauty in the burning embers after the flames have settled and the smoke has cleared
The beauty in my face as the tears drop and the eyes shimmer in the light

There is beauty in the destruction
In mine
Yours
And life

Goodbye letter to you…
Jaidyn Johnson

Something tells me that you still love me.
But also a side of me tells me you don’t care.

You need to understand
that you can’t keep coming in and out of my life
when it’s convenient for you.

I get into the process of moving on
and you keep coming back.
It’s like you see me happy and bettering myself
and you feel like you can get in on that.

You call me and think we’re okay and you’re wrong.
I know I sound like I don’t want to talk
and that’s exactly what it is.
I loved you but leave me alone.

The World According to Liz
Elizabeth Condall

Things that make me excited
Things that make me excited are… getting a new room whenever I move and I move every 5 years or so; it’s not enough that it’s bothersome or causes an inconvenience, but enough that I get super excited when I get a new room. This is timely because I moved last Friday and I’m thinking about how I want my room set up. I love when my mom tells me that I get to pick a new color for my room. I love trying to arrange my room to my liking. Sometimes I get to take up carpet or put some down. It’s really the best thing ever. Since I’m moving to a different state, it’ll be a very different feeling, but I think I’ll still be as excited.
It’s a good thing.
Something that makes me excited is…getting new shoes. I’m still 5 at heart and when I get new shoes I get so hyped. I always casually get new shirts or pants because when I’m out with my mom running errands we usually see cute items in clearance and she buys them for me. But it’s completely different when I get shoes. It’s usually planned and budgeted in by my mother and it’s on a specific day. I get to go home and fantasize what I’m going to wear with the shoes and when.
It’s my peace.
Something that makes me excited is…drinking a Mcdonald's Sprite. Now I know that seems weird, but I call them “Spicy Sprites.” They’re different from a regular Sprite that you’d get in a store; they’re strong. When I drink them it’s like I’m drinking a shot at a club or something. Everytime I go to Mcdonald’s I get a 4-piece sweet Barbecue Tender Meal with a medium fry and a large Sprite. The best part of the meal is when I eat all my food and have a sip of the Sprite. Boy, it’s so good.
It’s the best drink.
Something that makes me excited is…jumping on a trampoline. I’ve never had a trampoline; my mom has never gotten me one because she doesn’t like them. I very rarely get to go to a friend’s house with a trampoline or go to a place like Sky Zone, but when I do I literally never want to leave. I always want to stay way after everyone wants to go. Even though my legs are actual noodles when I get off the trampoline, I still want to go back and experience more.
It’s so fun.
I have so many things that make me excited, but these are just a few.

Things that disgust me
November 16, 2018

Something that disgusts me is…people who litter. People who just throw things on the ground are so dirty. It really annoys me more when I see people throw trash on the ground in New Haven because there are trash cans on every corner. On every block there's a trash can; so there should be no reason not to wait to throw something out.
It's disgusting.
Something that disgusts me is…parents who show favoritism. I truly can’t stand when parents think it’s okay to give one child more and give another child less. I can't speak from personal experience because it hasn't happened to me, but I have friends that have to deal with their parents taking better care of one child for insignificant reasons.
It's dumb.
Something that disgusts me is…people who abuse pets or animals in general. It really makes me sad to see people who have dogs keep them in cages all the time or on leashes outside. I don't think there's a point in having a pet if you're not going to take of them. Bring them to an animal shelter or find someone to take care of them, but don't mistreat them; animals hurt and feel pain just like humans.
It's horrible.
Something that disgusts me is…people who bully other people. This is something that is talked about all the time and has been talked about for years as people are continuously trying to shine a light on the problem, but I wholeheartedly can't stand bullying. People only bully other people they know won't defend themselves and I think that's what bothers me the most. To consciously know that a person won't respond to the punches or the hateful words being spewed at them shows who the bully is as a person.
It's cowardly.
Something that disgusts me is…people who always make white and black jokes. They're not funny; there I said it. When people say things like ¨that’s only white people...¨ or ¨white people only...¨ it’s annoying. People really say things like ¨black people do this...¨ and expect laughs. It makes my entire body wince and cringe. They only push stereotypes.
It's not funny.

---------------------------------
Things that make me happy
By Elizabeth Condall

Something that makes me happy is...people who are unapologetically free and happy. It’s really a beautiful sight to see someone who lives for their own self and doesn’t let anyone ruin what’s going on for them. It’s something that I admire because I’m always limiting myself because I’m afraid. A lot of things scare me. To see someone doing something that I want to do is really wonderful.
It’s beautiful.
Something that makes me happy is…people who have the same music taste as me. I would say that music is a huge part of my life because there’s not a day that I don’t listen to music. It makes me feel whole, as corny as that sounds. Music really emphasizes feelings I feel. I really don’t understand how certain people don’t listen to music. It’s crazy. So when I find someone who appreciates the same music as me, it’s the purest thing to me. My music isn’t even in English half the time; sometimes I listen to Japanese, Spanish, Taiwanese, Polish, Korean, and all kinds of different bops.
It’s pure.
Something that makes me happy is…getting new school supplies for a new school year. There’s something about getting brand new pencils and brand new notebooks that excites me. It’s the most satisfying feeling to start writing in a new notebook with a new pen or pencil. I love getting new folders and writing what subject they are going to be for. Going to school isn’t even as fun as going to get those brand new school supplies.
It’ satisfying.
Something that makes me happy is…laughing. Laughing has to be the best thing on Earth. I couldn't imagine going throughout life not laughing. I love it; it's such a good feeling. An even better feeling is laughing with good people and spending quality time with those people. The number one person who makes me laugh is my best friend, Chelsey. When we're together, laughter is something that comes with ease. We have a different sense of humor so to me she’s the funniest person I’ve met in my life. As cliche as this is, everyone should live and laugh.
It’s exhilarating.
Something that makes me happy is…doing my homework at my desk. I discovered a week ago that it’s really soothing and a lot more comfortable than sitting on my bed to do my work. It’s common sense that you’d sit at a desk to do work, but I just never thought about it like that.
It´s new.

Things that bother me
By Elizabeth Condall

Something that makes me is nervous is…people who stand up and walk around me or by me. Especially if I'm sitting down, it scares me. I don't know if that person is going to kidnap me, mug me, anything really. It might be a little irrational; I even ask family members or friends to sit down because it makes me nervous.
It's scary.
Something that scares me is… water. Water actually terrifies me. Even showering is trying for me. I don't know what it is about water, but it frightens me. When I'm in a pool I get scared that a shark is underneath me. I can´t see underneath me and that just makes me feel some type of way. I love being clean, but when I shower I flinch when the water touches me. I don´t like the feeling on my skin and I hate being wet. Combine the both of those and I just hate water altogether.
Something that makes me nervous…having to talk to new people. I'm a very social person and I don't mind speaking to other people. Meeting new people is something that I enjoy, but the initial contact I dread. It's always awkward and weird trying to navigate where the conversation is going or where the conversation is supposed to be.
It´s weird.
Something that scares me is… the possibility that I won´t accomplish anything in life, that I'll be in the same place, doing the same thing when I'm older. I want to travel and see things and really live my life to my best ability. I don't want to disappoint my mom and my family. I want to be successful and do my best.
It's worrisome.
Something that makes me nervous…is going to the beach. For most people, it's really calming, but I feel like I can´t breathe. It's almost suffocating being at the beach. Maybe it's not even being nervous, but I've never liked the beach anyway. I've always felt like the sand is going to cave into the ground. The beach is too much for me anyway; the water is scary, there are too many people, and overall I just never end up having a good time.
It´s bothersome.
These are some of the weird things about me--all of my weird fears and anxieties that don't necessarily make sense.