PGN LGBTQ YOUTH SUPPLEMENT
FALL 2017
My Raging Ocean
Peace from Broken Pieces
WRITTEN BY MITCHELL For as long as I can remember, I’ve been sailing in this seemingly endless ocean. I don’t remember being given my boat, or when I first set off. I just remember being here. In what I can only assume as my early days, there was nothing but smooth sailing. The water was clear and the fish were plenty. I can remember laying in the hull of my little sail boat watching as the clouds passed me by. I remember the smell of the ocean as it would lull me to sleep in the peaceful nights. I’ve always loved my little sailboat. The body of my little ship was made from a sturdy oak and painted with my favorite colors. In the bow, there was a little perch for me to sit on so I could watch the fish swim around me. I always did enjoy watching the jib and mainsail as the wind would blow on them. I would sometimes climb the mast and look out on the open ocean. I loved my little SS Self. There were times when I fell out of my boat but climbing back in was never a problem. It was always just a matter of keeping calm and catching my bearings. Occasionally there would be storms, they would rock me and my little boat. None of the storms did any damage. Until one day there was one nasty storm. It knocked off my tiller so I couldn’t control the rudder anymore. I was left at the mercy of the ocean. After some time, I noticed that the waters around me became murky and the schools of fish I used to watch slowly disappeared. My once-beautiful and clear Ocean was becoming polluted and no longer held the beauty I once knew. The dirty waters began to affect my little sailboat. The name began to fade away and the paint chipped. The once-hearty wood would swell and rot. My precious SS Self seemed to be dying. There is one day of sailing that I will never forget. The worst storm I have ever seen. The early-morning sky no longer held its orange-ish, reddish tint that I was so used to seeing. When I woke that day, the sky
was completely gray. The clouds looked heavy and full. I could smell the storm before it was even there. Before I had time to prepare for the onslaught, the stagnant air began to blow harder than I had ever seen. It was constantly changing direction, whipping my hair around my face and pushing my poor deteriorating SS Self around. Waves crashed down on me and my poor boat. I was constantly being knocked over and pushed down by the storm and my moribund fared no better. All I could do was try my best to keep my Self together as best I could. That was until I was finally knocked off the boat and into the storming waters. Normally I would just swim back to the surface and climb
The clouds looked heavy and full. I could smell the storm before it was even there. Before I had time to prepare for the onslaught, the stagnant air began to blow harder than I had ever seen. into my boat. But these storming waters made such an act nearly impossible. I could no longer tell which end was up or which was down. I kicked and kicked my feet. I couldn’t see further than my arms could reach in the water. There were times when I would bump into fish or coral. I remember at some point in my struggle to surface I gave up. I felt as though there was no point in trying. I was prepared for whatever was waiting for me on the other side. I don’t know how long I was left there; time seemed to stand still and the world around me faded into an empty darkness. I could feel fish as they swam past me, but I saw nothing. I was left to drown in this endless raging black ocean
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with no sense of my Self. The one thing I do remember was the day the water around me seemed to still. The water was no more clear than before but I could feel myself slowly float back to the surface. I was filled with new hope as I kicked my feet and began to swim again. When I was finally in a position to surface, I did not see my boat. My Self was nowhere to be seen. There was nowhere for me to go so I decided to just float and let the ocean take me wherever. After some time, the sky began to clear. The once-gray clouds were replaced with the fluffy white I once loved so. The day the sky cleared, a small piece of driftwood appeared before me. It was from my boat. A small piece of my Self had somehow managed to survive the violent storm. I pulled myself up on the wood, and with this little piece of my Self I began to feel hopeful. I knew that things would never be the same now but there was hope for my future. I floated with the last piece of my Self for days until one day on the horizon I saw two boats floating. All I could think of was salvation. I held tight to the last part of my Self. As I swam I saw someone on one boat. “You’ve been struggling haven’t you child?” this person said to me. “You have been alone all this time. Climb onto the boat, you can have it if you want. It is broken and in need of care but it will keep you dry and safe from the dangers of the ocean.” I did as the person said. As I swam up to the boat, I saw the name painted on the side; it was called New Beginnings. As I climbed onto the boat I saw a hole in the floor, one that the last surviving piece of my Self could fit in. As I placed the lone oak plank on the cedar boat, I looked around the new boat and I couldn’t help but smile. It resembled my old Self and had a very homey feeling to it. “I’ve been waiting for someone to claim this boat.” The person smiled at me who helped me, this stranger sailor in the boat named Dawa.
PGN will run the LGBTQ Youth Supplement again in 2018. Email editor@epgn.com to get involved. PGN and your community would love to hear from you.
WRITTEN BY JAKE ILLUSTRATED BY KARIN A Puzzled Guy gave away many parts of himself; he didn’t realize he was breaking slowly like puzzle pieces. On the outside, he was all cool and chill. But on the inside, pieces had been taken away. He gave away and had not taken care of himself, now he has put back the pieces with self-growth, realizing his value. He knows the value of value of now; it is not giving yourself to the extent where the other person becomes a thief looking for things to help him cope, hurting — his journey to discovery and become a stranger individual.
ILLUSTRATED BY KIHEEM