It used to be white.

The yard was a little greener, and my dog was usually tied up to my tree.

My backyard was concrete and it would burn my feet in the summer time.

My living room had this ghastly green carpet that crept up the stairs and into the hallway.

There were pictures hanging up of my sister and I leading up to the second floor.

My room had light blue walls and white furniture with rose decals.

I used to sit on my knees when I ate dinner with my mom because the dinner table was too high up.

I remember watching Jeopardy and Wheel of Fortune every night on the same black leather couch.

 

Now my house is brown.

The front yard is full of dirt and my tree is dying.

My backyard no longer has hot concrete, but cool stone.

My living room has dark wood tile and my stairs have no carpet.

The pictures have been taken down and the white walls of my house are too white.

My room is the same, except all my stuffed animals and toys have been crammed into a box that now resides in my garage.

I can reach for the salt and pepper on my dinner table without having to stand on my chair.

My black leather couch is gone.

 

And so is the house I spent my childhood in.

The frame is still there, the same white walls and grey tile.

All the pictures that graced the walls are in the same crowded garage.

But now I’m too big to hid behind the black leather couch when a movie gets scary.

I’m too old to play with my old toys.

My house is still there but it is no longer my home.

 

I love words. They are my sanctuary. I love writing stories with them and talking to people with them. Except I hate the words that carry bullets. The ones that once they leave the mouth, they leave a gaping wound. The one’s that leave nasty scars.

Depressed. Three times a week, I sit in an either too hot or too cold classroom. Mostly in the afternoon. This class is my English class and right now we’re reading Romeo and Juliet, a tragic tale of star-crossed lovers who take their lives. Except it’s not tragic, it’s pitiful. I personally feel bad for the hate the Montagues and Capulets have for each other. That book is just sad and to top it off, every class the word depression gets thrown around. That word pierces through my heart, every time it escapes the mouth of one of my oblivious classmates. Romeo and Juliet aren’t depressed, they’re in love. Depression is lying awake at three in the morning because you gave up telling yourself to go to sleep an hour ago. Depression is going to a movie or a concert and regretting getting out of bed. Depression is emotionally, and sometimes physically, demanding to the point where it ensnares you. Depression is not being able to cry because you just did three minutes ago. Depression is not to be uttered left and right.

Retarded. I sometimes sit in the library and my mind strays from the story in my hands and to the conversations behind me. I guarantee that nine out of ten times I hear someone say “You’re being so retarded right now!” However, that isn’t the case. The boy being called retarded is an able-bodied and able-minded person who maybe got a C on their last test because they fell asleep while studying the night before. That person didn’t fall asleep after crying for three straight hours because they got bullied at school again. That person doesn’t feel incapable of normality. That person isn’t looked at or treated differently than others. That person can wake up and walk through their day without a thought of hesitation. Being retarded isn’t a punchline.

Panic attack. “Oh my gosh, don’t scare me like that! I almost had a panic attack!” Panic attacks aren’t a synonym for being scared. Panic attacks are lack of air in your lungs. Panic attacks are your body not being able to stop shaking. Panic attacks are not being able to shake away the stress. Panic attacks are about the test that you don’t have the will to fail, because the next time you do, you won’t be able to fix. Panic attacks are arriving at the gates of school and telling your mom to turn back and drive home as fast as possible. Panic attacks are like a demon sucking every last bit of peacefulness out of you and flushing it down the drain. Panic attacks are serious.

Words have meaning. The reason we’re trained to keep defining words is because we need to know how to use them. You
wouldn’t say someone’s eyes were ocean blue if they were actually brown. You wouldn’t say you’re happy when you’re sad. Some words take a while to master, but sometimes it needs to be mastered faster. So the next time you are at a loss for an appropriate word, pull out a dictionary instead of pulling the trigger.

It grabs around the bottom of my ribs.

Like a tightening rope, not choking but not comfortable. Just tight.

It begs the question, what are you doing?

It just kind of hits randomly, this feeling of tightness. I could be watching a movie or eating, and bam the tightness is back.

This is a problem that plagues the younger and younger. The life changing decisions are getting more and more micromanaged.

Hell there have been books about the most effective season to put your child into sports teams.

What pre-k should your kid go to? What middle school? What high school? What college?

Are you using your time effectively? What do you plan to do with yourself when you grow up?

Me: What am I doing with my life?

Me: I’m going to Neverland and you’re never going see me figure out what I’m doing with my life. I’m going to meet mermaids and battle Hook.

Holidays are such precious things. I remember when I was little I could barely fall asleep before Christmas Day. I remember popping out of my bed Easter morning and running downstairs to find the eggs the Easter bunny hid. I remember so many holidays with such vibrancy that it’s almost blinding.

Over the years, holidays have started to lose their significance to me. Only Christmas and my friends’ birthdays are important to me now, mainly because I can give people gifts.

I miss being able to have days of pink, red, and white hearts on Valentines Day. Spending hours on my mailbox and Valentines I would hand out to every one. I miss drawing two extra hearts on my best friend’s valentine and eating all the candy when I got home.

I miss my birthday. I miss waking up with a special breakfast and birthday cake in the freezer. Looking back, I really do admire how much my mother could surprise me in little ways, even with working a full-time job. I miss going to the Lazy Dog with my whole family.

And in these ways, I miss all the other holidays. Every year, Christmas, Valentines Day, Halloween, Mother’s Day, and Father’s Day comes around and they’re the same as any other day. I miss how special these days were to me.

This year’s Easter, for instance, was quite normal. I woke up and talked to my sister. Then I cleaned my room and watched a movie in the lounge. We did egg dying, but only for about 5 minutes. I wish that Sunday was special. A campus-wide egg hunt or a van trip to eat brunch. It wasn’t a bad day, but I just wish it were more special, more memorable, like the ones I used to have.

School is a weird thing.

I mean its great, but in reality we go and learn for up to 25 years of our life about things that most of us will forget in the near future, for me, the next day

But quite honestly I love school

Now there are a couple subjects that when I know that they are that day, I want to stay in bed and cry until I could basically solve California’s drought issue, but other then that school has brought me and many other kids around the world opprotunies.

The other thing about school, that I’ve started to realize is important to me is the social aspect. The fact that we are all squeezed into classroom and basically stuck with eachother can be a fun way to meet other people.

As well as becoming friends with fellow classmates, you start to grow a connection with some teachers who’s advice and motivational speeches you will never forget.

I hope as you read this, you realized that, even if you are out of school, that school is honestly the biggest blessing in disguise.

I know, I know, you hate it now…I do too at some times, but without school big changes might not have been made, lives may have not been changed, and we as a society may not be where we are right now.

So think about that next time you think about crying over that essay that your evil AP world teacher assigned

PHOTO CREDIT: workattheyard.com

 

I remember when I was little, about four or five, I would sneak into my mom’s closet and steal her shiny, nude heels and scurry back to my room. There I’d fit my tiny feet into those stolen shoes, put on a pink tutu, and place my heart-jeweled, plastic crown on my unbrushed hair. I proceeded to strut my stuff back and forth on my bedroom’s hardwood floor, until my mom would hear the clanking of her shoes and come running to get them back.

Although dress-up was a favorite pastime of mine, that’s not the reason I did this. I made my room my training ground for being a princess. My ultimate goal in life was to be a princess. Beautiful and graceful, just like Cinderella. Now I’m ten years wiser, however, some of my childhood dream hasn’t changed.

My mother never believed in CD’s, so my entire Disney princess collection was on VHS. I would pop in the cassette, 9 out of 10 times it would be that of Cinderella, and rewind it to the beginning. I’d press play and watch and watch until I needed to eat or get a drink of water then I’d pause it. Whenever there was a scary part of the movie, remember I was only four, I would hide behind my black leather couch while my mom fast forwarded the movie to the next scene. I would also have my mom rewind the ballroom dance scene, as it was my favorite.

I wish I could live the life of my VHS Disney princesses. I wish I could wake up wanting nothing but to dance around in big, bellowing ball gowns. The only pain I feel is the night after wearing those unbearably slick glass slippers. To have heartbreak only last half an hour. To fast forward on the tough times. To rewind my greatest memories. To take a minute to pause my life.

Unfortunately, I can’t live in that world. In fact, no one can. If it were possible, then I’d say there would be a severe shortage in pumpkins.

Even the lives of real-life royalty are far from perfect. I mean, they have a kingdom full of people to run. Plus, most are seen constantly by the public eye. I would have people look up to me and have a society who sees me as perfect when I’m far from it.

Now, when I’m asked what I want to be when I grow up, I’ll say something completely different than I would’ve thought a decade ago. However, little me would see the magic in pretty ball gowns and tiaras and say, through the cracks of her crooked teeth, “A princess!”

 

About 80 years ago, America introduced a brand-new thing: The Motion Picture Production Code (otherwise known as movie ratings). Fast forward to 2016, and many movie goers know these rules by heart. You can go to G movies with your 1-year-old cousin. You can see PG-13 movies by yourself as soon as you get into high school, and sometimes you get turned away at the booth for the latest R-rated movie.

The Motion Picture Association of America has had these rating rules for almost as long as movies have been popular. Throughout time, the code has been changed as new discussions are brought up. Concerned parents created the PG-13 category after movies like Indiana Jones and Gremlins exposed young children to violence and gore.  The ratings we have today are nothing like those of the 30’s.

As society evolves, aspects, such as this code, need to shift as well. In the past few years, there has been leaps and bounds made with mental health awareness in America. With these new and exciting developments, there needs to be a new case to bring to the Motion Picture Association of America: trigger warnings.

For those who don’t know what a trigger warning is, it is when something unexpected happens and a person with anxiety or PTSD is triggered into a panic attack. Common triggers in movies are scenes with gun fights, rape, or gory murder, however there are many more triggers out there.

Movie production companies, such as the MPAA, should petition to make the trigger warning section in ratings possible. Why? Those with any kind of mental illness may have trouble with going out to see a movie to begin with. Whether it be depression or social anxiety, going out in a public place can be stressful for some. That stress can already make a person feel on edge and a trigger can make them tip over the edge. One of the main appeals of movies is the escape from reality, but if a person is in a state of extreme panic after being triggered, then that escape isn’t enjoyable for anyone.

With all this said, there NEEDS to be change. Simply including common triggers in the caption of a rating could immensely increase the lives of so many individuals. Movies can have a severe impact on people. A lot can be said about a person based on their favorite movie, and with a trigger warning system implemented, it will make it so much easier for people to find their movie.