light

At the end of each day, when I get out of the shower and brush my hair in the reflection of my steam-coated mirror, I contemplate quite possibly every decision I’ve ever made. I feel the water trickle down the arch of my spine and across my lower back. I let it drape over my shoulders, forcing together flexibility with stillness. I look at myself and no longer criticize. My head turns to the right side as I study the curvature that makes up my exterior. Every night a light seeps into me, it gives me the ability to feel and describe. I feel everything, every drop of water or word spoken. They mean something to me, my mind feeds off of the ability to experience a sensation. My vertebrae twist and my chest crawls outwards, My feet no longer touch the ground and I levitate upwards, the light carries me. My fingertips fall numb and the air expands. A million particles and breaths fill the vastness of the atmosphere. I am nothing and everything all at once. The light swarms me and slithers across my surface. It intertwines with my fingers and the crooks of my neck. It mangles my hair, stretches my skin. It opens my eyes and locks my jaw. It wrenches my shoulders back and opens my throat. I am not me, not without my light. I can’t control her, she flows within me. Her essence seethes through my bones and brings life to my nerves. Her glow leaks out of my mouth and ears, dripping off the tip of my tongue. The layer that separates the world from my organs melts away and leaves me with only a soul. My body means nothing, the only truth I know is my mind and soul. She festers within me. At the end of each night, I look into her hollowed eyes, and thank my tired light. She lets me feel.

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pc:me

dravin

Everyone has that one person who propels you forward, who supports you when times get tough and it seems like you are drowning. To me, that person is Dravin. She has been my life preserve, my oxygen mask. I do not think she knows how much she has changed my life, how much she means to me.

Dravin helped me when no one did. She helped that young 10-year-old who thought life was not worth it and made it her mission to make sure it was. She helped that twelve-year-old girl who almost let the bullies win. She helped that fourteen-year-old who moved away because she knew it was best for herself. She helped that sixteen-year-old try and gather the pieces of a broken relationship. She helped that almost eighteen-year-old with her first breakup and told her that life will go on even if it does not feel like it right now.

From the beginning, she was the most understanding soul. She would give me paint and crayons and tell me to “create masterpieces for me,” so that my mind was at ease. She knew how hard it was for me to express my feelings, so she distracted me. She created this safe space for me. A place where I could speak freely without any judgment. A place where I could have a shoulder to cry on. Even when she was with her family, she would take my calls and help me with my breathing.

Dravin saved me. I owe my life to her, but I know that she would just say that she is doing her job.

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pc: me

home

This is a part of my Home essay for AP English.

I love to read. I read romance, mystery, horror, and post-apocalyptic novels. Every corner of my room is coated in books that scale about halfway up my wall. I have nowhere to put them. 

Ideally, in the future or in another life, I would have a beautiful living room painted white with cream sofas and high ceilings. The windows would take up the majority of the walls, letting sunlight flood the room like maple syrup drizzling over the top of a pancake. There would be a big fireplace that would provide warmth throughout the winter. 

There would be huge bookshelves that would match the size of the redwoods outside, filled with stories and characters. Hundreds of different realities would exist in that room. Making me feel as though mine is not nearly as big as I like to think. There would be many different places that I could settle for the day as I crawl into an alternate universe. Plants would perch around the room granting oxygen and life. 

My kitchen would be dark green with walnut counters and an antique stained glass chandelier glowing amongst the space. Windows in the kitchen would open letting in the warm evening air that swept across the orchards outside. My bedroom would have a huge fluffy white bed that would swallow me with sheer curtains that would flow like waves merging with the sand. 

Trees would shower the land surrounding my home creating a never-ending forest. A place where my mind could drift endlessly. My yard would have an old pool like the ones in Italy, they are like springs built with mossy stone that hold countless memories. 

I would have a big dining room with a long table that way every person I love has a seat. A large wooden record player would sit atop a mid-century modern cabinet. All of my favorite songs would echo throughout the walls that held me up.

I dream of a place that is serene and isolated from the business that infests the world. A place where my mind can slow and breathe the air that roams across the surface of the earth. A place where the world can be perceived similar to the way it once was before humans imprinted on it. I dream of a place where I can take a deep breath because I feel at ease rather than anxious. 

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pc: me 🙂

My Dark Vanessa (TW)

Im going to give a fair warning that this topic is very triggering and revolves around sexual abuse. You do not have to read this.

I am going to give a few quotes from my favorite book, it is about an abusive relationship between a 15 year old girl and a 42 year old man that is meant to be romanticized. This book is beautifully written and incredibly alluring. It is also twisted and deranged and made me question every single person in my life. The ability to manipulate as well as a sexual abuser is terrifyingly fascinating. This book made me nauseous, and can be painful to read but i think about it everyday and in no way regret a second of the time spent reading it.

“Because even if I sometimes use the word abuse to describe certain things that were done to me, in someone else’s mouth the word turns ugly and absolute. It swallows up everything that happened.”

“It’s strange to know that whenever I remember myself at fifteen, I’ll think of this.”

“I wonder how much victimhood they’d be willing to grant a girl like me.” This particular quote made me sick and furious because it is clear that he manipulated her into thinking every situation was her choice.

“Kneeling before me, he lays his head on my lap and says, ‘I’m going to ruin you.” I cried during this chapter, this feeling was so claustrophobic especially when having to watch Vanessa know nothing of what was being done to her, that was the most painful feeling.

“He touched me first, said he wanted to kiss me, told me he loved me. Every first step was taken by him. I don’t feel forced, and I know I have the power to say no, but that isn’t the same as being in charge. But maybe he has to believe that. Maybe there’s a whole list of things he has to believe.”

“He’s always going to be old. He has to be. That’s the only way I can stay young and dripping with beauty.”

“He’s the only person who ever understood that desire. Not to die, but to already be dead.”

“An older man using a girl to feel better about himself – how easily the story becomes a cliché if you look at it without the soft focus of romance”

“It’s easy to pinpoint when it all started, that moment of walking into his sun-soaked classroom and feeling his eyes drink me in for the first time, but it’s harder to know when it ended, if it really ended at all. I think it stopped when I was twenty-two, when he said he needed to get himself together and couldn’t live a decent life while I was within reach, but for the past decade there have been late-night calls, him and me reliving the past, worrying the wound we both refuse to let heal.”

“It’s just that I’m depraved, my mind so warped by Strane that I misinterpret innocent favoritism as sexual interest.”

“I think we’re very similar, Nessa,” he whispers. “From the way you write, I can tell you’re a dark romantic like me. You like dark things.”

My mind screamed throughout the entirety of this book, it begged for her to run, it wondered if she should stay. And in the end, I realized what this book was meant to do. It is meant to show you how hard it is to say who did it.

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I finally understood.

A few weeks ago I wrote about what it was like to have a crush. It inspired me to write about my perception of a broken heart. I think that the feeling of a heart breaking is different for every single person, simply because we all have different hearts. They are filled with different people and different places, some half full and some to the brim. In my eyes, no heart is the same. A heart can be broken by a girl, a boy, a mother, or a father. Anyone can take it and squeeze it until it cracks. I can not learn a lesson, the same thing will happen to me over and over and each time I let myself think that this time will be different. It never is. The first time I think my heart broke was when I was in seventh grade. When I was young, I was very close with my dad, and I spent a lot of time with him. When I turned 13, I had already begun to struggle with depression. It ran in my family and my dad had it bad. When I was growing I would try to talk to him and sometimes it felt like I was talking to a body without a soul. I never understood why I wasn’t enough to keep him afloat, why I wasn’t enough to chain his soul to his body. My days started to slow and I began to feel the separation between my skin and my spark, and slowly, I felt it float away. I finally understood why it was so hard to laugh. Nothing was funny. And I understood why he couldn’t say I love you, Because he couldn’t even love himself. I stopped trying and he started to get better. He would ask me how my day was and I couldn’t remember. So I said nothing. I watched as my dad formed that same hopeless look in his eye, as he watched my soul melt out of the bottoms of my feet. My dad sometimes says things he doesn’t mean but that doesn’t make them sound any less real. A few weeks ago he explained to me that it was tiring watching me get like this. “I don’t want to be your dad anymore.” He took it back. But I would have rather been slapped in the face. That’s okay. I know he tried for a long time and for a lot of that time, I wasn’t there. My mind was always elsewhere, drifting through the sharpness of the sea that he used to throw me into. I like to take myself to those places. Where I remember sitting on my dad’s shoulders or holding his hand while I got off the ski lift. I get sad because I don’t want there to be a brick wall between my mind and his the last year and a half that I live in this house. I don’t know how to try to fix what we broke. Sometimes we sit in a room with a stranger as she tells us what we do wrong and how we can “communicate” in a healthier way. I watch him look out the window and think about a million other things. I won’t play the victim, even if I sometimes catch myself wondering what 10-year-old me could have done better. It’s not his fault and I know that. But it broke my heart to watch as the conversations grew shorter and his door opened less. It broke my heart to start hearing my name instead of honey. It broke my heart to not see him on the field at my soccer games. It broke my heart to watch him cry about his dad and the lack of love he received. I love you, dad. But after all, the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.

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My Best Friend

Last week, I noticed a blog post about the author’s best friend, which has inspired me to talk about one of my strongest relationships.

My best friend is named Ula. Ula is 5″8 with brown hair tinged red and green eyes streaked with gold. Freckles speckle every inch of her skin and someday she is going to get a dot tattoo to symbolize the love she has developed for this feature, as well as her womanhood and power.

Ula is beautiful. Her smile is one of the most radiant I have ever witnessed and a contagious laugh. Sometimes we laugh together to such lengths that no sound escapes our lips and we gasp for air between fits of giggles.

Ula wouldn’t hurt a fly. She rescues spiders from her bathtub, lets mosquitos feast on her blood rather than swat them away, goes on camping trips in cow pastures, and wouldn’t leave her dog’s side during its final days. Sasha is now buried under the oak tree on her property and when Ula thinks of her, her eyes well with tears. Ula will not lie either. On the rare occasion that she must, her voice grows timid and shaky, a pitch too high, and her golden green eyes will not make contact with another pair.

If Ula were a season, she would be springtime, and if she were a place, she would be a wildflower meadow cut through by a rushing stream. If Ula were an animal, she would be a smiley manatee. And if she was an emotion, my Ulita would be pure joy.

(My favorite baby picture of Ula) PC: Me

carolina

I’m choosing to write about my best friend this week. Most of my friends know who she is because she’s a pretty common topic of conversation for me. Carol is 17, she was born on May 31st, 2005. She is 5’5 and has long dark hair. Her eyes are the color of molasses and her cheeks are always pink. I’ve never loved someone outside of my mom, dad, or brother as much as I love Carol. Vaughn and Carol are good friends, she’s always nice to him even though he’s younger. She helped me see him as more of a friend than a sibling and I will always be grateful for that. My mom and dad love her, they always say that she’s the best friend I’ve ever had and if she ever needs somewhere to stay they will have her with open arms. Carol sleeps at my house every Friday after school and we haven’t missed more than two weekends for an entire year. We like to eat with my family and watch movies and play with my kitten. She never brings clothes and keeps a toothbrush in the cabinet. She smells like peaches. She makes me laugh harder than anyone I’ve ever met in my life. It often hurts because of how hard she makes me laugh. Her smile makes me want to cry because I know that she doesn’t always see how beautiful she is. I tell her, I just hope she listens. She makes me feel better about myself and showed me self-respect. She will always be honest even if she knows it will hurt your feelings and I wouldn’t trade that about her for anything. I can always count on her to defend me in the case that I need defending. We share a closet and go to Starbucks almost every Saturday. Carol will give you her whole heart, and it takes a lot for her to take it back. She always gives me second chances even when I feel like I don’t deserve them. She is amazing at volleyball and going to her games every Tuesday makes me so so proud. She is passionate and smart and kind-hearted. Carol is the strongest person I know and I often stay up at night wondering how she does it. I love her and I would give my life so that she could live hers. Nobody makes me feel as loved as Carolina.

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Henry Wadsworth Was Wrong

Today, the first drops of rain after months of blistering heat graced Ojai for just one minute. It was the best minute of that day. I love rain. I could just watch and listen to it forever. I love when the sky clouds up and makes everything prettier. Today, the beautiful grey sky brought out the green in the mountains surrounding OVS. It all just looked so fresh and not regular old California. Everything looks better in the rain.

I love the feeling of raindrops on my head, I love watching them out the window, I love the sound of wind and thunder, and I even love the smell of wet asphalt. At night, everything is just incredible- city lights upside-down on shiny streets, and the comforting sound of heavy downpours making you sleepy. Henry Wadsworth was totally wrong about rainy days being “dark and dreary” if he loved sunny days so much he should’ve lived in California. Anyway the rain today, despite being accompanied by 95-degree temperatures and its briefness, is welcomed by me.

PC: https://i.pinimg.com/564x/8a/3d/b4/8a3db404aa48154cd8d1f70e2af41a6f.jpg

I Did Not Expect That Mr. Harry Potter

Spoiler Alert!

I had watched some clips of Harry Potter before, but I just never got interested in it. It’s kind of boring watching them passing that weird shape of the ball, I don’t know, I was just not enjoying it at all. However, this Christmas break changed me, I have found my favorite movie now. It all started with my older brother, he watched the first 4 Harry Potter films with his friends already. Then, my little brother and I decided to give it a try so we could watch it with him during the break. After finishing the first two films of Harry Potter, we are so addicted to it.

Meanwhile, we went to Universal Studios and bought the Harry Potter robes. I know it’s kinda stupid and childish, but I enjoy wearing the robes while watching the rest of the series. We were just so obsessed with Harry Potter. Nevertheless, we always got so hype when Dobby came out because he is the strongest in the Wizarding World. The film hit me so hard when Albus Dumbledore and Dobby died, especially Dobby. Dobby is the king of these movies. Before he died, Dobby said: “Such a beautiful place, Dobby is happy to be with his friends.” I can still remember what he said even now. It’s a pity that the ending was not so surprising. However, the story and the plotting in those movies were just perfect. I never felt the movie is too long and never felt boring.

Here is my favorite part

Video Credit: DutchDfan1992

Why Opossums Are Awesome

I really, really love opossums. They’re smart, unique, friendly, and adorable. Here’s some cool facts about them.

They are the only marsupial that isn’t native to Australia.

Opossums are marsupials, which means they’re a subspecies of mammal that carry their embryo out to term in a pouch on their belly. The most commonly known marsupial is probably the kangaroo. Opossums aren’t much like kangaroos, but they also carry their joeys – a litter of which can contain up to 20 babies – in a pouch and then on their back until the joeys are ready to live by themselves.

There are several species of opossums, all of which are native to the Americas. They range all the way from South America to Canada.

The Opossum: Our Marvelous Marsupial, The Social Loner - Wildlife Rescue  League
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They have opposable thumbs.

Much like apes, humans, raccoons, and some other species of animals, opossums have opposable thumbs. This means they have a fifth finger on the side of their paw that allows them to grasp objects and handle them in a way most that other animals can’t. Opossums usually don’t use this advantage for evil, though. Raccoons, on the other hand (pun not intended), will use their opposable thumbs to get into storage bins, to open trash cans, to unscrew lids of containers, to open doors, and other nefarious things. Opossums are much kinder than raccoons. Plus, it’s unbelievable cute when they hold things in their tiny hands.

Opossum holding bag of Marshmallows: aww
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They have prehensile tails.

Prehensile tails are a trademark feature of monkeys, but opossums have them too. They use their tails to hold onto thin surfaces better, to climb, to hang from branches, and to balance them as they walk. Their tails look a lot like the tails of rats, but there are muscles in their tails that allow them to use them much better than rats can. I, personally, think that their crusty, scaly tails are super cute.

15 Things You Didn't Know About Opossums - WorldAtlas
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They are omnivores, but don’t hunt mammals (except for mice).

Opossums are omnivores, which means they eat meat and plants. However, unlike most meat-eating animals, they don’t hunt almost any live mammals as their prey. Opossums usually scavenge food from unlocked dumpsters, left out pet food, or road kill. The only live prey that they consume are worms, bugs, mice, and sometimes smaller birds or snakes. If they are really starving, they might go after a larger target like a chicken, but this is very uncommon.

Opossum Eating Photos - Free & Royalty-Free Stock Photos from Dreamstime
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How To Co-Exist With Opossums - Forest Preserve District of Will County
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They “play dead.”

“Playing possum” is a popular expression for pretending to be dead or asleep. Opossums have an flight instinct that causes them to fall to the ground, loll their tongue, un-focus their eyes, and pretend to have died when confronted by predators that they can’t easily escape. They won’t get up even if they’re jostled around. It’s pretty cute. To humans, it just looks like the opossum is having the best nap of its life.

They like to play dress-up.

This fact isn’t scientifically verified, but look at these guys! They sure do look like they’re having fun. They look adorable, too. So stylish.

(Photo credit to @seymourtheopossum on Instagram)
(Photo credit to @thepossumgal on TikTok)
(Photo credit to @itsmesesame on Instagram)
18 Cute Possums Who Nailed The Art of Adorable (Photos)
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They make funny faces.

Sometimes opossums look like they just tripped and fell in front of the popular kids and the popular kids all saw their Paw Patrol lunchbox fall out of their backpack. It’s like my favorite thing. Look at this little guy.

(Photo credit to @gladysopossum on Instagram)

All in all, opossums are pretty cool little animals. If you see one near your house, don’t bother it or hurt it. They’re non-threatening creatures and it’s just living its life. If you can legally rehabilitate opossums or care for disabled ones as pets, definitely do. They’re sweet little guys. I love them so much.

Starry Surprise! Pouched Opossum Plush with Babies & Limited Edition Sweater
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