Unspoken Words

I can not even count the times I have wanted to reach out to you, scrolled through my contacts to find your number, went to type out a message I never sent, or looked at old pictures and felt an urge to speak to you again. But I remained silent and kept the words unspoken. I’ve wanted to tell you how much I’ve missed you in these last six months. There is not a day that goes by where I do not think of you… But recently you’ve been living in my mind much much more.

Recently everything has reminded me of you. I see images of us from a year ago to the date, hear your name in conversation, or see things we would have shared with each other and something tells me I must speak to you again. But instead, I keep the words unspoken, although there’s this feeling deep in me that we need to speak once again and that something will bring us back.

My unspoken words consist of these thoughts for the most part; you rapidly became the most significant person in my life, and for that, I’ll forever be grateful for, but the day we stopped speaking a little part of me began to crumble. You took a part of me with you when you evaporated from my life. You were part of my daily routine, we spoke every day from the second we woke up, to when we would lie our heads on the pillow each night. We shared some of our highest highs and lowest lows together, and always made an effort to check in and see how we both were feeling. You being gone felt like I was missing my other half. You were my person.

These unspoken words have given me the chance to reflect on how I feel, and what drove us apart. I understand why you had to leave, but I do not accept it, and if I am being honest I probably never will. But I am slowly becoming okay with that, with the idea that you are in fact gone, weather that be for now or for forever.

I still often wonder how you are doing though, and I check in on you from afar. I only hope that you are doing as well as you used to be, and you are carrying on. I hope you still have the call for adventure, and a sparkle of mischief in your blue eyes. But I miss you more than you’ll ever know. I miss us, our adventures, late night conversations, and most of all I miss my best friend. I hope we cross paths one day in the future, for you will always hold captive a large part of my heart.

Photo credit: Pintrest.com

foggy memories

the oaks

wrinkles,

white walls

metallic beige

flying roaring

,cutting,

white walls;

warm animals 

in half motion

motioning

in motion.

you latch on

to these moments, these images,

as they race in your head,

as they take tight turns,

as a force like gravity pulls and pulls you away.

you find yourself empty save the quiet conversations and the warm silence. the moments that make you you. but how ‘bout I move them? 

how ‘bout i reorganize the pantry,

pull the back towards the front,

pour it all out?

how ‘bout when you feel those candlewarm memories

in your stainless vaccum

you feel them.

you feel the road, the car

the pull,

you feel the moment, the memory

fading

into the fog.

from pintrest

A Page of Four Years

February has brought about the time to create senior pages. I have spent time scrolling through my camera roll, searching for the perfect photos that can encapsulate four years of high school into a single 8″x10″ page.

I found photos of my friends. Photos of projects I had done in art class. Photos I had taken for AP World History projects. Sifting through hundreds of memories to find the most valuable moments has proven to be more difficult than I had thought. I have narrowed it down to about forty photographs, which, if I were to use them all, would be about a centimeter wide each.

While small on paper, many memories still remain as vivid as the day I experienced them. I remember carving pumpkins at my freshman Halloween dance. Is that memory less valuable than the time I hung my art in an exhibit? Do I feature friends, experiences, or accomplishments? What photograph will take up the most space?

As I sift through the photos, I imagine what words will be written on a page. I could write a classic senior quote, a thank you to those who helped me through school, or simply my name in a basic font.

I know my senior page will encapsulate my high school experience as I remember it. I just need to find what moment will serve as the biggest picture.

Yearbook
Image Credit: Josten’s Memory Book

Lonely in your own home

I moved to boarding school in America 3 years ago. Since then my life has changed completely. I feel like a different person. A better person. I grew up in the south of Germany. Beautiful mountains, living in the heart of the Black Forest. I always loved where I lived. But school in Germany can get tough, especially being in a Gymnasium. Ninth grade is said to be the hardest one of all. Everything comes together and just pushes you down. I felt stressed, anxious, and just not good enough. I had no motivation left because no matter how much work I put in I felt like it was never enough.

When I arrived in America it all changed. I finally felt truly happy again. The people were supportive and just so incredibly nice. It was so different, so… amazing. I finally was able to show what I was able to do, I didn’t feel hopeless or pressured anymore. The teachers were supportive and always helping. I immediately felt at home. The outdoor education trips were incredible, the people were incredible, everything was just perfect for me. This school has made me into a happier version of myself. It helped me discover what I am good at and what I want to do in the future.

And now this is my last year here. I can’t believe how fast time flies. This school will forever have a place in my heart, and I am truly thankful for it, for making me into the person I am today.

The classic dichotomy of senior year

From the Ocean Looking Up

in those rich minutes the light was heavy warm gold 

viscous with the weight of the looming sky

her wet skin reflected the light as if it were oil 

floating in the sodium and the waves

rocking back and forth

I fought the incessant ocean

that colossal blue 

as it pulled the warmth from my heavy limbs 

I was suspended 4 inches from the glassy surface

blowing fat bubbles that distorted your reflection

from pinterest

Nothing but empty promises…

In October I wrote an article about one of the most famous wildlife photographers, David Yarrow. For years I looked up to him and saw him as a role model. That changed when he started endangering wildlife just to get the best shot. From chasing a giraffe to get the perfect shot, to using a “photography game farm” in Montana that has a record of abusing their animals, to putting one of the last big tusker Elephants in the world in close proximity to a model for a good shot. This could’ve not only endangered the people around but also the Elephants as if they would’ve acted out they would’ve gotten shot. He has been calling himself an active advocate in wildlife conservation yet embodies everything that is not wildlife conservation at all. The first, biggest, and most important rule in wildlife photography is: do not interfere with the wildlife.

David Yarrow apologized for his actions and promised he would change to the better. But he did not hold that promise. Yesterday a picture of him with two of his friends cruised around the Internet. He was lying on the ground with his camera while his friends were feeding Foxes in the Grand Teton National Park. A FED ANIMAL IS A DEAD ANIMAL! Especially foxes can get very dependent on humans if they are fed. They will start going up to humans begging for food and stop actively hunting for themselves. 99% of the time these foxes will die or have to be taken down by Rangers because they have no chance of survival anymore.

It is very sad to hear that David Yarrow continues to be a bad example, and there was nothing behind his promises in October. He needs to be held accountable for his actions. Feeding animals in a National Park is against the law and he is currently being investigated. I hope he will not just get away with a slap on the wrist this time.

Davis Yarrow laying down taking photos while his friends are feeding the foxes rests of their McDonalds meal.

Photo credit: https://www.jhnewsandguide

Fantasy

Have you ever wanted to escape reality and live in an imaginary world? Well, I have. Through books and my wild imagination, I have been to many places.

One time I escaped to Hogwarts and it was amazing. I got to learn different spells and play quidditch, and I became a witch. Another place I escaped to was Australia. I visited the Sydney Opera House and swam safely around the Great Barrier Reef.

Photo credit: About my Brain Institute Blog

My imagination is a weird one. Sometimes I am in a scary mood, so I go to a haunted house, and other times I feel happy so I envision myself as a mermaid.

Escaping is a sort of coping mechanism for me. It allows me to forget about all my struggles, stresses of life, and calm down a bit. Although it is good for coping, I have to remember to live in the real world as well.

Music

Music is everywhere, even if you do not realize it. It could be playing in a shop you are walking by, or it could be someone playing the trumpet on Hollywood Boulevard.

There are so many different genres of music, for example, pop and blues. Radio shows like Kiss FM and the Heat predominantly play popular songs, like Good Days by SZA. You can find any music genre of your liking on the radio. Music streaming sites such as Apple Music and Spotify allow listeners to create playlists to their liking.

Photo credit: Spotify

Listening to music one thing, but making it something else. Being able to sing a song or play a chord on the guitar is another feeling. Making music is so moving and beautiful. Even if you are not good at it, making music is an art form. Depending on your mood, for instance, sad music is a very different mood than happy music.

Music is all around us, and it is being made and listened to every single second of every single day.

























































Better to stand alone than in the standards of others

Skin sunk around bones in protruding starvation is beauty.

Normalized with eyes melted into pits of blackened seas. Salted water burned pain into a sickening sensation of emptiness.

Body twisted into a sensual blur. Collar bones puppeteering her breasts.

Blossoming from spirited youth into the world of never ending expectations and misdirections.

Bones expected to be filled with feathers, skin expected to be tightly pulled against every crevice, face expected to be whipped with unreal and unnatural smoothness.

She mustn’t let the words of broken societies control her body, though she’s tempting to hurl herself into the vortex of self deprivation, rising above will unleash her true beauty wrapped in a pleasant blanket of happiness.

knife painting done by Pino

Rain

Cold winter days often seem to fall short of the media’s predictions. We scheduled an early departure from school in anticipation of dangerous storms, though we’re met with trickles of water creating small puddles in dry dirt.

I tend to dress dramatically for the cold. I wear two pears of socks, two jackets, and keep a spare pair of gloves in my backpack. I prefer to overheat than freeze from the brisk winds. My wardrobe has many jackets, though only one of them I have deemed warm enough for January weather.

Although the cold is difficult, I do hope for adventure’s sake that we experience more rain. I keep my prized umbrella tucked away in my backpack, waiting for the day when I can use it again. I enjoy the trek from classroom to classroom as I use my umbrella as a shield from the harsh sky. February is likely to bring more rain, and I won’t put my umbrella away until the sun is revealed.

Image Credit: Ali Berman