The street is filthy. As I walk through it, I can’t help but scrunch my face in disgust when my nostrils fill up with that wretched smell coming from the trash scattered all over the sidewalk. “I simply can’t believe that I have to meet this man at such a gruesome place,” I think to myself as I stop next to some shop called ‘Things n Stuff’ to wait for the aforementioned. I take my phone out of my soft brown coat’s pocket to distract myself from all the commotion around me, but I can’t seem to concentrate on it with all the noise around me—dogs barking ceaselessly, women screaming at each other, cars honking loudly. I then decide to call him. “Hey it’s me. Where are you?” Continue reading “The Blacklist”
It’s been a few days since Thanksgiving occurred and I keep wondering why it was chosen by people to make this the one day a year in which they sit down to think about what they’re thankful for. I mean, you get 365 —or 366, it depends— days a year, and you really only pick one to sit down and thank whoever or whatever you want, when there are endless things that we can and should be grateful for every single day of our lives? Continue reading “All the wonderful things to be thankful for”
I’ve always wanted to be the star of the show. It might sound narcissistic but, honestly, being the main focus of everything always felt really good and right—like it was meant to be for me. Growing up I had everything to make it possible for me to stand out: the personality, the charisma, what my teachers called the ‘spark’, the talents, the easygoing nature, etc. So, it was never hard for me to fit in anywhere and always have massive crowds of people after or with me at all times. Continue reading “Music Turned Into Writing: I don’t want to be you anymore”
Can you see me? Are you even aware I’m here? Because it feels like you aren’t.
Do you even know my name, my passions, my story? So why judge me already?
I feel tiny under your strict gaze, which from time to time shifts to a softer one, but then it all just goes back to how it was before.
It’s sad feeling tiny and useless.
It’s sad feeling like this all the time. Continue reading “Tiny”
It gets louder and louder—the pain, I mean.
I wonder: how?
How can it be possible for a physical sensation to get louder with every second that passes?
I don’t know. But it just keeps getting louder.
Every scream and profanity just keeps getting louder.
The toxic masculinity that rolls off his tongue continuously stabs my poor heart and damages the loving memories that I had of him.
She can only respond with a soft, almost broken “lower your voice.”
The pain resonates throughout the entire house and as much as I’d like to cancel it out with my bedroom doors that usually keep all bad things away, it just gets louder and louder.
And then the noise stops—so does my heart. Continue reading “And It Only Gets Louder”
When I think about how my life used to be when I was a child, the first thing that comes to mind is that sacred place in which I spent most of my earliest days alive: the sea. The thrilling and yet peace-inducing waves that would carry my body from side to side seem to be one of the sea’s features that I reminisce whenever I’m near said place. Continue reading “The sea”
Just as a warning, I will say this: this is my own opinion and if you believe otherwise, then that’s your own opinion, which I respect, so respect mine the same way.
This year’s Midterm elections took place yesterday, November 6, 2018. From 7 pm all the way until 2 am of today, I spent my time anxiously, eyes glued to my phone’s screen to check if I got any Twitter alerts that announce the winners for Florida’s gubernatorial and senatorial races. Continue reading “And I Can’t Help But Think: What Will Become of Us?”
It was announced not too long ago that the gamut of the Purge movies that fans thought had ended in 2016 was coming back, and this time it would be continued by a TV show that would air in the last months of 2018.
The series came out on September 4th and, so far, Continue reading “The Reason Behind the Purge Show’s Success”
Vignette: a small impressionistic scene, an illustration, a descriptive passage, a short essay, a fiction or nonfiction work focusing on one particular moment; or giving an impression about an idea, character, setting, mood, aspect, or object.
Being fourteen is more than just going through one more of the “angsty and rebellious” years of your life. Being fourteen means Continue reading “A Series Of Fortunate Vignettes”