Parallel by anonymous I walked past you in the hallway today. I do not know your name; You will not remember mine. Perhaps we will meet again someday, If the stars above align. Try looking for me tomorrow Among the sea of faces, But you will not remember mine. We cannot return to where we met-This I hope you know. Our lives are two parallel paths destined to never meet. We run the same endless track, Only seeing where our own feet will lead. Hurry forth to class; They wait for you to arrive; Remember for what you strive. Many others have come to pass. And when our own time has come, Find me At the end of the hallway. I would like to learn your name.
2
Through my eyes
diminished into nothing. Instead, I obtained yet another disorder: depression. Soon after, my parents decided to by lily yang break their agreement with the doctors, finally realizing that the root of my Life is a tumultuous sea: the currents hurl depression was isolation. Nevertheless, I was at the weak, and the mile-high waves strike the not liberated without a catch: I had to take an strong. My life was no exception. I lost my array of pills each hour and be taught in the vision when I was at the mere age of eight; and special needs class. I was ten when I returned with it I lost my friends, my old school, and my to my old school. Although I was back in a sense of belonging. The doctors diagnosed that place of people, it was not a welcoming my brain was facing a developmental disorder location. My classmates and I were often that caused the area connecting to the optic nerve discriminated against and taunted at. Half of to be severed from all signals. As a result, I was my old friends refused to talk to me because I incessantly fed a plethora of medicine to control was with “the messed up kids.” To the rest of the development of my brain and prevent any the world my classmates and I were misfits, tumors from forming. Operation after operation, but to each other we belonged. It was because my profound hate for my condition grew. of people like Marla, an amputee ballerina, Despite the pains of being a lab rat for the and Elias, a schizophrenic entertainer, that I preying scientists in the medical field, what realized that disabilities do not impair, but, destroyed me was alienation from my friends. instead, they empower. Twenty years later, as Although the doctors never provided a revered entrepreneur, I am glad to say that solid proof for the severity of my case, they through my eyes, I saw more than anyone were determined to ostracize me from else—I saw what it meant to sail in rough society. They told my parents that my currents. disorder would drastically change my personality and cause psychopathic behavior, so keeping me “safe” and contained was the best option. A year later, when my parents discovered that this was not actually the case, the doctors continued to suggest that I stay away from non-familial contact to avoid bullying. My parents, skeptical at first, resigned and agreed. From that day on, I was to be locked in my room and never allowed to leave—with exception to retrieving food. Every day was monotony. The sounds of playful peers would resonate in my head, and the envy I held for them would build up within me. Sometimes the denial I had for my disability became so great that I would rub my eyes and hope to see again when I opened them. However, disillusionment was inevitable, and with each increasing day, my once ample supply of hope and trust was 3
Fly Free By Jaime Wang My name is Jamica. I'm a 15 year old Hispanic-Caucasian. I have light caramel skin, and long dark brown hair. My eyes are unusual, a rich gold edged with hazel. My cheekbones are high and my eyebrows are thin, and I have full lips. I have a rather slim figure, tall and graceful. I have been told I'm a very beautiful young lady. Right now, however, that beauty is covered up under hospital blankets and the IVs and equipment hooked into my body. I have ______. I've been living in a hospital for over a year now, breathing each breath with pain, surviving off the chemicals injected into my body and the daily pills. I dream. Every day, lying in my bed, I look out the window, seeing the sunlight streaming in and the park right outside. I long to be out there, laughing, playing, running. Feeling the breeze on my face and breathing in the clean, fresh air. Experiencing the texture of the soft grass underneath my feet. The warmth of the sun on my skin. I remember the days when I was free. Free to
be outside, to do whatever I wanted. Free to move and play and live, and to be with friends. Free to just be free. But that felt like so long ago. I dream to return to that state. I dream to become who I once was. I dream to be me again. But that never happened. Soon, months go by, and my condition worsens. My skin pales, and I grow thinner than ever. My hair becomes dead and limp. My parents start taking turns to stay overnight with me, bringing me comfort. Then one faithful Tuesday night, as I drift into sleep listening to the soft drone of the machines hooked onto me, I feel something. An aching tiredness heavier than ever before. A wary emptiness as I fall slowly asleep. My mom sleeps in the spare bed next to me. I turn my head to her, slowly, and look at her beautiful, peaceful face, aged and lined with wrinkles after so long of looking after me. I feel sadness, and yet relief. Then quietly, I whisper. "I love you mom." Then my eyes close. My head takes me into my dreams, a place where I can be free from the hospital equipment and the confines of my weak body. This dream is more vivid than the others. I stand at the top of a cliff, a cool, gentle breeze rustling my hair. The air is crisp, fresh. My feet are bare, and I feel the texture of the dirt and gravel and rocks underneath my feet. The sun is shining, warm, just rising into a clear blue sky, spotted with fluffy white clouds. In front of me, a vast, majestic span of mountains spread outward, rugged and beautiful. They dipped into a valley under me, lined with lush greenery and a rushing stream. I close my eyes, feeling the refreshingness of being out in nature. A sudden urge tugs at me, an instinct, and I trust it. I run forward a few steps, and jump. Off the cliff, into the empty space below, rushing towards the water at the 4
bottom. Then, something amazing happened. From my back furled a large, feathered pair of birds’ wings. I glanced back at them, and saw that they were the color of my hair, a deep brown, and streaked with gold and white spots. My wings then carried me up, up, up into the sky, shooting towards the sun. [Outside of my mind and my dream, my heartbeat accelerates, bringing soft quickening beeps to the heart monitor.] As I fly, I somehow reach the cloud line, and burst into one of the fluffy white masses, feeling the cold, moist air as I hover in the center of the cloud. Then, I swoop backwards in the air and drop back towards the earth, wings tucked in and spiraling down, until I break out of the clouds and see myself angled towards the river at the bottom of the canyon. I take in the cool rush of wind, the exhilaration and excitement, and let myself keep dropping until I'm just 10 feet above the water. Then, I spread my wings suddenly, letting them catch the air and scoop me up milliseconds before I plunge into the clear water. Staying just above the river, I reach down and let my hands skim the surface, sending a fine mist of water spraying up towards me. The water is cold, refreshing, and crystal clear. I look into it, and see myself. Myself, the way I once was, my skin a rich caramel, full and healthy. My hair thick and soft, streaming behind me. My eyes are bright and full of life and joy. My hospital clothes are gone, replaced by my favorite pair of cut-off jeans and crop top. I feel fresh, alive, and beautiful again. I feel freedom, joy and a soaring brightness in my chest. [A smile spreads across my face, and I shift in my sleep, peaceful.]
As I soar upward again, it appears that strangely, the day has passed, proven by the glowering sun slowing dipping down behind the sharp mountains in the distance. I settled on the branch of a tall pine leaning over the edge of the cliff and gazed upon the sky. The sun sent sharp rays of orange light bursting forth on the sky and I watched the magnificent sunset until the very last drops of light have faded from the sky. In a flash, the sky is light again, the morning sun peeking over the mountains. My heart feels so light, so free, and the world appears brighter. [The beeps of the heart monitor quicken, the lines falling up and down quickly.] My wings spread once again, and a feeling a pure joy rushes over me as I soar upward, towards the sky. The sun rises over the horizon, and the first rays of pure light spill onto the blue sky. Something catches my eye, a spark, alluring, and a strange tug inside me causes me to follow it, straight up into the clouds. I soar higher and higher, bursting into the cloudline and past it, following the spark higher until the altitude made it chilly and hard to breathe, yet strangely I felt nothing. The perfect blue sky was all I saw, and suddenly I forgot what I was chasing as I soared upward, my strong wings pushing me through the sky. It was perfect. It was surreal. As I soared upward, a strange heaviness fell off me as I realized what it felt like to be completely free. And then suddenly, I knew. And I embraced it. With one last motion I pushed past a barrier and a flash of blinding white light filled my vision, a roar of complete silence ringing in my ears. And then, nothingness. I’m free. [In the hospital room, the heart monitor’s beeps slowed, then stopped. The lines moved one last time and fell flat. A long beep sounded.] 5
I
Orphan boy Depression
A lipogram by Desiree Ho A Lipogram by jaime wang And lily yang We see ourselves memorable
And struggle to stand out, But refuse to acknowledge What we create must be for nought. When the focus fades away We all appear the same, And the seasons shall erase What we once confused for fame.
Sitting in forlorn shadows, I look toward an unknown world, Hoping mom and dad would visit From that far away land full of clouds. That land has brilliant sights, That lavish city is brimming with bliss. But my mom and dad will only look down, knowing that I can’t go to that land. Although distant in my thoughts, I pray for mommy’s hugs And daddy’s warm laughs, The only joys I own from my past.
by lily yang Rusted chains and rotting ropes tie his wrists to unstable ground. Enveloped by rumors and vile names, Forever snared at the well’s bottom. Clawing at the mossy walls, attempting to reach the forbidden light. With each step forward the chains tug harder, he slips and falls back down. The well grows deeper with each try. The light flickers and wanes. His eyelids flutter and soon closes. No one can help him now.
6
A Shout in the Void I.
Ariadne Nephal: an excerpt
By Sowmya Balakrishnan War. It's not exactly something you'd consider to be a big deal, especially if you're not being affected by it. I guess I'd never have thought much about it as well. Three years ago, I would have just carried on with simple life. Stop by at the ice cream parlor with the girls. Help my little sister with her homework. Head across the street to Faust's house and infamously be greeted with knowing smiles from Mrs. Oakley. But now things have changed. The vibrant colors of what had once been on the palette of my days have now been washed away by the dulls of gray and beige. Time has seized to bring in the hell which none of us had expected. Belgium has sunk into war. I peer from my bedroom window and am greeted by the sorry sight of the ever-present black helmets that stand stiffly in front of our fence. Night or day, rain or shine, without fail, they’ll always there. So keen on monitoring our activity, so keen on getting the sick pleasure of pressing their triggers at a 'no-good citizen.' For the soldiers' sake of maintaining sanity, the enforced restrictions have gotten harsher and harsher over the days, increasing the death toll marginally and giving what the soldiers call "some fun." I turn my gaze back to the book that's poised on my bent legs. I still can't finish the page that I've been on for three days. The seeming prospect of things becoming more and more negative has brought me down to a state where I can't even focus anymore. And I know that I'm
not the only one. When I'm taking supervised walks down the neighborhood with a soldier by my side, the people I manage to cross my path with always seem washed out like pastels. Those who are only around their mid-twenties have already begun to gray at their hair. Children glance from their coloring books with haunted eyes, eyes that have seen things that are not meant to be seen.
It's a miracle that I haven't cracked yet, what with the combination of horrifying things that I've seen and how incredibly sensitive I am. But the brief ducks of sanity that I am allowed, the sweet escapes from the hell that has taken over us, are what keep me going. Faust Oakley. Seventeen, going on eighteen. Tall. Blonde. Best friend since childhood. He is the reason that I continue to live. Every night, we are allowed to set aside our fears and sneak out for the solace of being free for just a few minutes. Genuine smiles exchanged and illuminated by late moonlight, hushed conversations that are heavy with hope, this is what keeps us alive, the nightly tradition of running to our little haven and rejuvenating our souls. This is how we recharge ourselves and this is what we will do once more tonight. 7