CONTENTS
4 6 7 8 9 10 12 13 15 18
20 21
22
23 24 25
ISSUE
ANNOUNCEMENT
APPLICATIONS
ROLES
JOIN
JOC
ISSUE
MEET
08
COMMUNITY
COMMENCEMENT
CHAZZEL
ELYSIAN
EMOTIONS
PT
1
ELYSIAN
EMOTIONS
PT
2
ELYSIAN
EMOTIONS
PT
3
MEET
ODE
EMMANUELLA
TO
MEET
LIVING
THE
MARIELYS
LOOKING
BACK
EPIPHANY
1-YEAR
DISCORD
TEENAGE
DREAM
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this is
JOURNALS OF COLOR the voices of the bronx.
Meet Chazzel!
(creator behind the Issue 08 cover!)
"Hi! I’m an International Baccalaureate student who enjoys writing poetry and making music. My aspirations are to become a licensed physician, own a bakery, and work with The Weeknd."
"Why did you create your piece(s) for this issue?" "Because I am a teenager, I wanted to put my insights on what it is like being a teen, such shown in poem 3, and also explain some of the thoughts that I have about being a teenager, such shown in poem 2. I have a long way to go in life, but my experiences while being a teenager have been intriguing which I find to be very important to highlight through narration in each piece. In these poems, I write as though I am no longer a teenager but what’s funny (to me) is that many of my peers will be young adults by the time I’m just turning 17. Hope you enjoy my work!"
Intro Elysian Emotions pt. 1
Fräulein, my love Ever so peaceful. Teenage fever Has yet to depart. Raise your head, The butterflies call. Hold your heart, To the epiphany of… Surprise!
~Quixotic~ Blue tree For the clear sky. Where I dwelled in their refuge, 1, 2, 3 birds laid united Peacefully, unbothered. 4 and 5 fell unexpectedly Later seeking refuge like I once did. Tranquility once held Recklessly broken in the name of Quixotic. lies, change, and denial. Things the nest never had Till the mirror shattered The tree collapsed The burden of another Passed to the liar. The illusion of chance Yet to be seen. What was once love, What once companionship Is yet to be weaved. Quixotic is their radiance Quixotic at its finest. Oh, how the thoughts quiver Oh, so amicable Of what once used to be Through all of us aligned. Or was it idealistic?
Elysian Emotions pt. 2
~Querencia~ Babies born To cry and remember The life they once had Once upon a time. Adolescence comes To make one realize The failures and success That comes when being born. To cry is adolescence, To experience is life But there’s no reason to cry No reason for endless nights When there’s someone out there, Someone so young That would kill to fulfill The life of a “helpless teenager.” Red, bandages, “help” Hurt, hurt, hurt. Fake, stupid, “high school” Wow, wow wow. Living like the main character, In your own anime. Simplicity at its finest, The one you wish to live in. Oblivious to the world, “My savior is TikTok!” Oblivious to aesthetics, “My feed!” Mock, mock, mock But you can never really say “I love being a teenager”
Romanticizing red Romanticizing fraud Weeping, procrastinating, scrolling You wouldn’t dare take such bliss Had the bleeding teen Who lost their family at two Who was kidnapped at one Whose house was destroyed at 6 months took your life, To live adolescence for what it is, yelling, “Screw you errors!” “Screw you normality.” Living like a kid Never to be taken as a joke, And not fake enough to be anime. Querencia to live The teenage bliss we call agony Querencia to recall The teenage memories we call regret Someone out there, An adolescent like you, Would tear hearts and the stars Only to smile while crying the tears Of what it is to be a teenager.
Elysian Emotions pt. 3
~Evanescent~ Let’s talk buddy to buddy, As if we were in a call To tell you how much you mean to me, Or at least how much you meant to me When I was 12. Remember when you showed me how to tie Jordans Kneel down, this is how you do it. Remember when you brought a card That sang, “Woohoo” for being in your life. Remember those nights Scrolling for a gift about a game Of friendship and goodwill. Latch that necklace around my neck, Come on, it isn’t the first time you’re behind me. 10, 11, 12, what do we even know about love… right? But, don’t you remember the texts of love Where doves sang in the classroom In the back though, where no one can see Don’t you remember? Oh, and remember the days I set my pride aside pink, black… why are you giving me money? DON’T you remember when I said, I want to. And remember when you took her to the back alley The day after I trusted you The years after I’ve trusted you But, it’s okay. Because I remember How different and beautiful it was For me, to be who you are to me. Buddy, oh buddy. I have so much more To tell you how much you mean to me, Or at least how much you meant to me When I was 13.
Three years, nonetheless Three years compared to one, Which was nothing compared to my old friend, bud. One month was fun and games, All it took was one filler. One day I walked with marks A little “play fighting” never hurts. Two months was okay. Pick me up, but not till you take a shower. You’re embarrassing. Four months was exhausting. Don’t mess with my Abel, in the night you’ll go out the door. The Devil is there! The Devil is here!. All were against you, huh? Even the voice in your head. Crying, crying. Dang, how can you shed more tears than I? Yelling, yelling. Dang, supporting abuse like you’re my son? Son? Ironic. Have more memories with a 13-year-old fool than a potato couch. Fool? Is I. I allowed you to mean something in my teenage years. Stalking, threatening, teasing, laughing, rumors, lies, photoshop, bullying. No one knows half of the stuff that I endured And maybe more can relate. Cause buddy, you were my buddy, but damn how I wish I NEVER met-... WAITTT Don’t go yet buddy, I have much more to tell! The last one, I promise. To tell you how much this ONE means, Who I met 3 years ago And knows one day, we’ll separate ways. Catch me! I’m hurt. You see, my last buddy keeps bothering me And my friends aren’t defending me. Hi! My name’s ___. You see, you’re cute with a smile that’s so serious. Can you catch me if I want to fall on you? I don’t regret meeting my last buddy now.
Too good for your own will, behind the seriousness is a softie Why do I have to be the opposite? I was once like you except add the bitterness and distastefulness Of what was once an illusion of the world. Though opposites attract, we disobeyed the rules of gravity You see, I had too many problems that had yet to be resolved I had only thought for myself, nothing more And at what costs? To lose and keep trying Over and over again. Because what was to say we couldn’t try again? The right person at the wrong time, I would say But I really mean there’s something better for you That you are with the wrong person As you and I met under unfair circumstances Of bitterness and harm. You may not be my first buddy But you are my first lover during my teenage years The one I’ll reunite with when we’re old and perishing. So let’s be buddies, And I’ll tell you the exact same story Of the six years that it took me To understand the value Of what it is to be an adolescent With a heart willing to try.
Conclusion:
Fräulein, my love Ever so dreamful. Recall your teenage years As it has departed. Raise your head, The butterflies call. Hold your heart, You are now an adult.
Meet Emmanuella! Emmanuella Agyemang is a published author and a writing director at Journals of Color. Agyemang has developed a passion for both writing and journalism and is determined in becoming an investigative journalist.
"Why did you create your piece(s) for this issue?"
"Ode to Living The Teenage Dream was a letter to myself and other teens that living life in our own way is not a bad thing. Constantly trying to live up to this expectation really does nothing for us. Life doesn’t have to be all about always being out and about. Life is just as great when you’re sitting at home."
Ode to Living The Teenage Dream
By Emmanuella Agyemang
The teenage dream is like a high that I constantly chase With each experience comes a different high But each high ends with a consequence, consequences that I wish I could take back Rony, a dead friend. I, saw his lifeless body spread across his second-floor bathroom after 8 hours of partying. Police say it was an overdose, cocaine. All in the name of the teenage dream But at the same time, I do not want it to end. What will I have to tell my grandkids if I do not go to a raving party? What will I have to tell my grandkids if I sit in my room all day? Shot after shot, red cup after red cup, Shouting “you only live once” as teens pass out across the dance floor Fake IDs, parents crashing parties But I begin to question, is this all really worth it? Is this what it takes to prove that I had a fun life? That I lived up to the teenage dream?
Meet Marielys! "I am a high school senior that has a passion for writing. Putting my voice out there is really important to me, so being part of this magazine has been a miracle. I’m a writing director, as well as a creative writer, so I can’t wait for all of you to read and enjoy my work!"
Looking Back By Marielys Martinez Time feels fake. Like I am floating in space, Where everything I know suddenly doesn't work. Moving too fast Or too slow. But either way, it never feels right. 2018 seems like yesterday, But this week I got my senior schedule. The 14-year-old girl I used to be, Who came to her first day of high school 30 minutes early, Who knew no one, And was worried about her undone summer assignments, Still feels like me. Looking back As I count down the days till September 13 Is like waiting to be sucked into a black hole. Once the new school year begins, And the college search starts, I will have to understand what I want to do. Whom I want to be, When in reality I don't know who I am.
Epiphany By Marielys Martinez If I were to describe the teenage years in one word I’d say it's a constant state of epiphany. Whether it’s something about you, Your family, Or society. As a teenager, you see the world in a way You’ve never had before. Sadly, Knowing comes with consequences. The understanding that the earth is slowly dying, Some can't be who they truly are, And that there are people out there who would fight tooth and nail Just to make sure your life is a living hell. It all becomes too clear. Too much. The news you watched as a child Used to feel so disconnected, Unreal. But now every story in the news is a possibility The next image shown, Could be you, Or those you love. And you know that no matter how hard you try, There is nothing you can do to stop it.
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THE END OF ISSUE EIGHT
journals of color