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  Short Story from TJay

Posted by Larissa Pahomov in English 2 - Pahomov - A on
It had always been that way for as long as I could remember. Until that day the U Haul truck was outside of our house which it had then set in my head that this was actually happening. I let my backpack hang from one shoulder in disbelief. My dad came to the door carrying moms’ dresser along with four other movers. “Ray! Ray! … Ray!” I had started day dreaming until I heard my friend calling me from his next door window. “Hey David”  I said looking down as I sighed. “What’s going on ; I didn’t know you were moving” he said. I thought to myself while he was talking about how different this move to Filthadelphia might be. I had been there once for a Flyers game when we went to the East Coast two years ago. It was over run with drunk people with strange accents and there were tons of Italians more than I had ever seen. “Ray! Ray! … Ray!” David said. “Hey man are you alright” he said , no my life is over I thought I just nodded and said I was okay.

Ten days later we took the long flight to our new home. Our stuff was sent to Philly ahead of us so it’d be there when we arrived. The whole flight I just sat there as my parents sat there watching movies under a blanket on their laptops. I took like four naps on that flight, the stewardess came by three times and offered some  us some pretzels and peanuts I just said no until she came back with cranberry juice I drank that. I dozed off again; when I woke up we were making our final descent into Killadelphia. I pulled the blanket over my eyes when we landed I wasn’t ready to be there yet. I left behind all my friends and even this girl I liked she said we could never be together because I wore sweater vests. *fasten seat belt sign goes off* we were officially in our new home.

We caught a cab to West Philly, the most I ever heard about this part of Philly was from Will Smith on re-runs of The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air. The cab driver was telling my dad about everything there was to see on our way to our new home. We pulled up and I went into the vacant house our things were in thepod out front they had just been delivered. They were row homes, they looked like George Washington’s house very old. I walked in I heard voices out back so I went on the deck. There were two thuggish looking kids out there one was on the balcony and one was in the driveway below. Their accents were weird.

“Yo Tyrel!, wassup cous?” Yo bro I screamed back from my balcony as I spit on to the concrete down below. “We on the block today?” Rick screamed back while still walking. “ Yeah dawg we out here.”  

The two guys names were Tyrell and Rick they didn’t see me peeking out the sliding door. The one kid spit on to the driveway below and he was blasting some rap music out of his back pocket, his pants were sagging they looked like real scum to me nothing like my friends back home.

 “Yo Tyrell who’s that moving in next door?”  “Probably some old head who’s probably gonna try to take over the block again.” I’m bout to slide over there to my steps to see what’s popping said Tyrell”  Tyrell and Rick sat on Tyrell's front steps watching as Ray and Ray’s parents carried in leftover boxes.

Tyrell and Rick looked over at Ray and laughed at him as they said “sweater vest”

Ray just glanced up and carried the box in the house.

Later that evening he went back out front to watch everything that was going on in his new neighborhood.

I swear I hate it here and all the people imagine when school starts.

The two “new neighbors “ emerge from the next door house and pull their marijuana and lit it. They offered Ray some but he kindly said no.

 

They laughed and whispered to each other.

“Oh you looked like you don’t want no smoke” said Tyrell - in urban Philadelphia this would mean Ray doesn’t want any conflict.

“I have no idea what that means bro but I’m new here so could you just umm how do I say this so you could understand.. just you know , chill?” said Ray.

*laughter from the tandem breaks the silence of the quite street*

“Where are you from dawg?” said Rick to Ray.

“West Side” said Ray

“West Side of what cous?!” said Tyrell in an annoyed tone

“Of Long Beach” said Ray

“Yeah well be more specific next time youngboul” said Rick

“What on earth is a youngboul?” said Ray

“How do I say this so you can understand, umm a scrub” said Tyrell

Tyrell and Rick both laughed simultaneously again and said Squad.

In Philadelphia squad is something said in urban communities normally at the end of sentences by two or more people who are friends most commonly used after a punch line in a joke between them.

Ray removes himself and goes into the house where his mom is sitting on the couch he storms up the steps she asks how he likes his new friends. He replies back saying that they are not his friends.

The next morning through the wall Ray hears more of that loud rap music he bangs on the wall and the music doesn’t stop.

The music even sounds like a foreign language to me. All I hear is obscenities I miss Long Beach where it was nice outside I didn’t hear sirens all night. I went to turn on the news and all I saw was murder it was so different even the news people had accents. In the next few weeks I had my first cheesesteak and water-ice. Pronounced wooder-ice here. I even became cooler as they say with Rick and Tyrell. I even gave their music a shot. They didn’t like my pop music too much but theyheld me down. Which in Philly meant they watched after me to make sure I was okay.

I will say that I prejudged this whole city as a whole and especially their accents which I still despise. Philadelphia has been good to me thus far. I’m chilling.

Check Your Phone

Posted by Todd Samuels in English 2 - Pahomov - A on

Check Your Phone: By Todd Samuels

“Hello TJay The Poet is there anything I can get for you?” said the assistant in the studio.

“Just some water, please call Magic my engineer his number is in the book on your desk and turn the microphone on for me. Make it quick!”

*Checks emails from producers*

*sips coffee and opens email*

*Listens to the tracks from friend in disgust*

*slams down coffee*


*scrolls through phone to producers contact*


Yo dawg this music isn’t right you sent me 10 beats and I only like 2 of them. Which means you’re only giving me 20%. I need 100% of everything that we do or we’ll be recording in your sisters basement forever. Of course I’m glad she let us record here but in order for us to take this to the next level we HAVE to have the best beats. Everyone is trying to be a producer now a days in order to not be considered wack you HAVE to be better I’m only telling you because  I care about your well being. I want the best for us; the best for you.  


 We could be like Jay Z and Timbaland or Drake and 40 we could be the greatest but you choose not to be great you settle for mediocre not I don't care what you have to say you've said enough I'm done listening to your excuses I'm asking for better , we can't even finish a full project because the tracks never are similar either they're too fast too slow too sad too loud or I just don't like them I want to help you get better but you have to want to help yourself in order for us to get better.


Yes I said us not I we need to be a team we need to be like Kobe and Shaq don't tell me what I should be doing because I know what I'm doing it's the poet. This game is about consistency! You have to be on the same page as me! You don't do anything right we have deadlines! Everything has to go accordingly today I pay my money for studio time and my beats from you aren't finalized they aren't even done. I can't believe you're the only producer I had and you've been my friend since kindergarten! I don't understand why this isn't working but I know I need you to be better I constantly try to be better too I work on my craft every night I'm always trying to make us better I don't think you understand how much better you would be if you gave me better tracks in fact I'll make them myself I don’t need you..


And no no do not cut me off I’m not finished talking. I should have just stopped working with you a long time ago you aren’t even worth the effort. I hope you consider what I’m saying because I came all the way to the studio and you still have nothing valid to say. You know I’ve always been there through when you started making beats you were terrible. I even paid for your first piano with my share of the money “we” made shoveling! I want better, better than better we have to do better as a team. You’re a recluse you just sit in the house and tap tap on that piece of shit piano! Oh, and that tag you use on all your beats guess who”s voice that is ?! Its mine once again helping you. NOW help me your friend your brother.

*assistant walks back in*

“Excuse.. m” said the assistant being cut off by me.

“No get the hell out I” fired back.

“But sir” the assistant  responded.

“Hold on” I said to my producer on the phone.

“Now what do you want scrub” I said to the assistant.

“Well I hope you know since you are sitting in the booth you do not get service in there” said the assistant.

“What you really interrupted me for that?” I said.

I looked at my phone pulling it away from my ear then I realized it was black, I wasn’t even talking to anyone.

I slammed my phone on the floor, it does have an otter box so it didn’t break.

“Sir?” the assistant said the microphone was on the whole time too, and you have a guest.

“Who this is a private session” I said.

“Your producer” the assistant said.

He was on the other side of the glass looking dead at me apparently he heard everything I said anyway.  





Cuz Snoe

Posted by Avery Monroe in English 2 - Pahomov - A on


Cuz Snoe

(In Imanis bedroom, talking on the phone to her best friend Jamie)

“Hey, I ain’t even hear my phone, I was busy with the boo! I just got home I’m in mah bedroom”

“What...What you have to tell me”

(she laughs)

“Whats the big deal, like?”

“Okay, I am calm! Just tell me now.”

“What! Oh snoe! I don’t believe you!”

“No, he would neva”

“David would neva cheat! He in love with me”

“No, girl, you don’t know ‘bout him. Hes always tryna get at me. Like you don’t understand. He really want me. For you to tell me that he been sneaking around with some other girl is wrong. You’re lying to me. You know you are.”

“Yes you are! I don’t get you, like. Why are you doin’ all this. Like for what? LIke who are you! You don’t make any type of sense right now.”

“Yes, I remember that obviously. That was forever ago. You ain’t even know what you be talkin’ about sometimes. we was barely going together. That was barely even the start though. I was only thinkin’ ‘bout cheatin on him, I didn’t actually do it! You ain’t about to hold all that against me! Thats the past. I ain’t even worrying about that no more. Foreal though, I ain’t even care about him. He care about me!”

“Well, thank you I guess...I mean I ain’t even know if you tellin me the truth. I’ll just stop talkin’ to him anyways, like. I don’t care. I just don’t understand why he would do something so stupid like this! ”

“Its true, I don’t! Alright let me go so that I can talk to him”

(They hang up their phones, Imani throws it, and then begins to cry)

“I can’t believe this! Like how he gonna cheat on me! when I be so nice to him all the time! Why doe. I love him like he is my world. I would do anything for him. Why is it that I am beautiful and boys always do me wrong. Is it because I intimidate them? I’ve tried so hard to keep these guys, and I never can. What am I doing wrong! Please, somebody just help me, I can’t do this no more. I can’t stay with him now! He just gon’ do me wrong again and again! There gotta be a better guy out there for me. Let me call him right now. Psh, he gon’ try to explain himself, but no.”

(Picks up phone, and begins to dial)


Hey Mom

Posted by Bella Mezzaroba in English 2 - Pahomov - A on

I’m half in love with death. The other half, I’m partially in love with the life. Or maybe I’m in love with the idea of life, I don’t really know. I’m bad at decisions, aren’t I? I can’t even decide why I feel the need to die. But, I’m in front of a jury right now, right? I’m always, constantly, in front of a jury of eyes that don’t even know they are judging me. Friends and family who naturally avoid me, as if touching me might result in catching the suicidal. I leave the hypothetical jury wondering, questioning, because maybe my death isn’t justified enough. If I squeeze my eyes shut hard enough and look back into this mirror, this bathroom doubling as a courtroom behind me will disappear. Because seriously, who wants to die in a freaking bathroom? (sigh) Maybe I’m just a I’m my mother’s kid. I always have been, always will be. It’s not like going to college magically makes you grow up, I learned that the hard way.

In college, there is no grey area, it’s pass or fail. Do something with your life or, ya know, live on ramen noodles for the rest of your pitiful existence. I always expected to fall into the latter. Is that why I can’t make decisions? Because decisions might rock the boat of my future and I’m not trying to do anything unexpected. Wake up, take my medication, go to school, come home, take my medication, eat a microwave dinner, take more medication, sleep, and repeat. I can’t afford to make something of myself. Not with these shaky hands and uneasy eyes, I might accidentally break something.

This one time, I dropped a test tube in bio lab. My professor had a temper, which we all knew, but, but I made a mistake. I dropped the test tube. Following the smash was a yell, and then a scream, and and then a shriek and I just stood there, right? I just stood there and took it because, because otherwise, I’d be doing something unexpected. People with anxiety don’t yell back so I stood there. I did what any depressed, anxious, bipolar person would do. Stand there. And take it.

I told her about the test tube. She asked what I did in response and I said nothing. No, no I didn’t say nothing, I told her that I said nothing in response to my professor. She told me it’s time I get over the idea of being ill, that I can fix this if I put my mind to it. I nodded sensely, and did what any depressed, anxious, bipolar person would do. I stood there. and took it.

You have any advice? I mean, you aren’t exactly the shining example of survival. But still, Mom, been there done that, ya know? So whatdaya say? How did you make it for 35 years. What did you say when people called you dramatic and when Dad said, (In impression of man’s voice) “It’s about time you get over this nonsense.” (laughs uncomfortable) Huh Mom?

(Sits silently for a second. Mood goes from uncomfortably, maniacal to desperate.)

Come on, Mom, I’m your daughter you can’t just sit there and watch this. This is your fault anyway! I got my screwy genes from you.  I don’t want to go yet, but I seems like my only option. Even from death, you’re pulling my sanity down a drain and just begging me to join you. Wherever you are. Because you’re not here. You never were here, in life or afterlife, you always hovered on the outskirts of shadows acting as if you hadn’t began a life that you had to finish.

Then you left. You didn’t finish what you started and quit mid race. You let me and Dad down. He’s the one I should be talking to right now. He’s the one who didn’t bail halfway through like you so no, Mom, I don’t want your damn genetics. And I sure as hell refuse to turn into you. Maybe I can vomit up your genes along with these pills.


Suitcase

Posted by Veronica Nocella in English 2 - Pahomov - A on

(Sitting in the center of the bedroom, around miscellaneous belongings and other unfamiliar things; looking open and vulnerable like a human. This is, essentially, a personified version of a suitcase.)

Your mother will miss you when you’re gone; you can hold me when you’re homesick. Your ex lover would have forgotten about you; you can punch me with memories and worn souls until my back is as black and blue as yours. I will hold your tears, I don’t mind. I will fold your clothes into love letters and apologies.

(Take the belongings scattered around the bedroom)

When your father calls and asks if you still have the ring grandmother gave you, I will have it safe and sound. I will keep with me all the picture frames you don’t want to look at. When the hotel room is scattered with ancestry and diary entries, you may fill me up with all you have. You’re the last thing that keeps me from being a casket. Drag me along the dirt, suffocate me in the trunk of 8AM Taxi, smear my face with guilt, with mourning, with running away, with running home, and kiss me goodnight when the plane departs. Leave me, lose me, find me, rip me apart and put me back together; do to me what everyone else has done to you. They’ve gone away now; the keepsakes you’ve tucked behind my throat are all you have.

(sitting on the floor of the bedroom, staring up.)

I am a detached umbilical cord shaped like flags I’m not supposed to hold and I do not want by body to be an atlas anymore. I bear burdens that look like mountaintops of countries and passports plastered on my chest like crucifix. I will marinate every remnant from your lineage with the scent of lost land. I am a prostitute to native country, and a nomad of culture without pulse. Whenever I see the faces of heritage, I cannot help but take what I can; I want to learn about how your body speaks, and how your tongue moves. I want to know what it’s like to sit at a dinner table. I want to know what it’s like to be surrounded by faces that look just like mine, I want to know what it’s like to come home.

I looked at myself in the mirror yesterday and all I could see were tally marks. I counted every time I had killed myself and took along another life to a destination I could not remember. I stood tired, I felt bones, I tasted like empty room. There is nothing more that a world could give if you have already taken everything that it can show. There is nothing more that a body could give if you never get a chance to own it. I put a price tag on the tip of my ear and crawled into a plastic bag. I do not need to be an atlas if all I have left to be is a closet. So long, bon voyage, do not wake me when the plane lands.

(Close when your job is done)

Redemption in the Verse

Posted by Noah Caruso in English 2 - Pahomov - A on

[Dog barks loudly. Annie gets up from bed and walks passed the calendar and glances.It’s late at night.]


God, I miss him. I can’t believe it’s been a whole year already. I don’t know if I can stand it anymore without him. I needed him. I need him. He… We needed each other. He was my other half. My other half who got ripped to shreds by that drunk… [opens door for dog to go outside] fucker who threw his car off the road. No one cared. He had no family. They threw his death to the wind. But not me. I remember. I remember every. single. day. and every waking moment I think about that god damn man and how much I loved him. [Looks up] Why did you have to work so much? I barely got to see you! And look at how you died… on your way to that shithole. Can you tell I haven’t slept very well since the last time that we spoke? [Looks down] He used to tell me [wipes tears from eyes] “I know that I am here, and you are there… but we still have our love.” It’s some song quote, I don’t know and I don’t care. None of that matters now. He’s gone. [Looks up again] Maybe we still do have our love, huh? But guess what I don’t have? You. All the love’s still there. I just don’t know what to do with it now. [Goes into the refrigerator and downs a bottle of alcohol. Coughs] What do I have to do to bring you back… what do I have to do? Please understand I’ve been drinking again and all I do is hope. Please… [breaks down and cries] Ya know… [opens door for dog to come back inside] this isn’t what he’d want. He’d want you to be strong, to be brave and move on, find someone else. But I c- Yes you can. You can and you will. For him. I can’t forget about him. He was… is my everything. If love is a labor, I’ll slave til the end. I don’t care. I’ll die loving him just like I- what the fuck am I doing? Is this what it’s come to? Talking to myself? He’s gone. Deal with it. Forcing things to be bright just makes the darkness underneath even darker. Look at me I’m doing it again for fuck’s sake… like there’s two different people in this room, what am I? Crazy? I should just go back to bed, I need a break from all this… Hell, I need a break from myself. [Walks away singing] “...but we still have our love. I’ve been to heaven, I’ve been to hell. I’ve been to Vegas, and God knows where… But nothing feels like home… like you babe. I love you more than you will ever know.”

Monsters in the closet

Posted by Soledad Alfaro-Allah in English 2 - Pahomov - A on

(Jonathan is tossing and turning in his bed because he is having nightmares about a monster from childhood.)


(Something falls and Jon Jumps from his sleep) All that I know, from every creak in this wood and every bump in the night is that there are too many bags sagging under your eyes to keep them closed half the time. I always find myself back in this same place with you and I can’t find a way to let you go!! Its like I-I-I can feel you breathing down my neck every second that it gets dark and I’m tired of thinking that I’m crazy! Remember when mom said if I was ever scared, to hold onto my kneecaps, because our kneecaps are the closest we come to god before bed, but my kneecaps, are ashy and scared. God has never taken a seconds breathe out his time for me and why should he. I’m still a boy trying to face my childhood demons under the covers. As if goose feathers in fabric will somehow protect me from what lurks behind splintering wood. And yet, you’re the only one who ever listened. Mom was always gone off to work cus’ of that no good bastard who only gets off  using his semen as a legacy. Spitting out children like mucus and he wasn’t the only one. Remember the two after? Coming and going like zombies tearing up used condoms and when I screamed she never heard me. After I told her that-that-that THE SOUND OF JINGLING BELT BUCKLES felt like fingernails on chalkboards but too quiet for anyone else to hear. YOU WATCHED! and I screamed.  Monsters were never made easy work of but befriended in this house. Fathers are supposed to protect their sons the only way a Father could. But every man that comes through that door is another bruise on mom another scream another tear,  so I guess I don’t deserve that because everything just comes and goes as it pleases. Ghosts, Zombies, Terrorists, dressed in sweatpants and tattered t-shirts. Came and left, but you, You’ve always been faithful. You never left just got louder! Just listened! and every time I woke up you were waiting to be my nightmare in solid sound. Breathing and creaking, because you only came out when it was dark and cold. It’s always cold when you’re in the closet! The only thing I have ever talked to honestly yet my bones tremble every time I’m waking up in the middle of the night! Because you’re here! Shaving the enamel off my teeth in blood curdling screams. I should have never let you stay, but it seems monsters in the souls of men are the only things that I am familiar with. I hate you. Because you make me a coward as well as a child in one body. When I hold my stomach to open the closet! or when I tremble on cold nights tossing and turning, to afraid to get up because I always regret finding surprises under the bed. I am tired of treating you like an ally when are you have ever been is a concoction of painful memories wrapped up in fear. A monster in the closet.


Ilker's Monologue

Posted by Ilker Erkut in English 2 - Pahomov - A on

Never Going Back

Mmmm, that looks good, and oh, that looks good.  Let me just get all of that and throw it in here.  I need all these vegetables, but how will I hide this from mom.  Maybe I need to buy a refrigerator for my room.

Let me get some more.  I will handle this problem later.  Maybe I should start making dinner myself and sending my parents somewhere out for the time.

(he puts the food in his cart and heads to the next aisle)

I still need to pick up the food that they want me to have so that it does not seem suspicious.

(phone rings because of facetime)

(Plugs in ear phones and accepts facetime)

“Hey Mom”

“Good good, I'm shopping for our food for the next few weeks.”

“I have gotten three pizzas, two packs of burgers, bread and some cheese steaks.”

(he says with a sad face)

“Yeah I know you guys are getting this food for me.  I just don't want to be overweight again.  Mom I do love the food you buy me!!  I am very thankful and I will eat it.”

(he heard one of the workers across the hall)

(he turned his phone toward the cart)

“No I do not need any help, but thank you!!”

(turns his head really fast)

“Mom! What!”

(he looks terrified)

“Its just some extra flavored food to make our meals more enjoyable…

(he says in a whisper)

and healthy.”

“Mom stop guilting me out.  I do love this food but I want to fit in and be happy.  The way I was before made me miserable.  Don’t you care about how I fe..."

“Whatever!”

(ends the facetime)

(squats down and put his hands on his face)

Why is she so passive aggressive?  Why can’t she just be happy about my life and make good food choices without her changing!

(sits there for a while. Pays no attention to people around)

(gets up and puts all the food his mom wanted away)

(phone rings again)

(he answers)

“What?”

“I accept your apology, but we have to make a change to this family”

“I am allowed to buy what I want!!  Thank you, thank you!”

Things might be getting better from here.

“So for dinner I was thinking that we would have…”

“What!”

“You went to the corner store and got dinner for tonight!

Why?”

“I do like your cooking… MOM, we are not going over this again!”

(he trips the cart over and lets all the food fall on the ground)

“I'm done Mom, you're so thick headed that you are going to mess up my life and I am going to end up where I was before.”

“I am glad I have such a caring mom.”

“Don’t ever talk to me again, until you understand me.”

(he ends call and leaves store without picking up the food)

Time to move out and forget!

Mr. Velvet and I Against the World

Posted by Ava Olsen in English 2 - Pahomov - A on

(Sits down cross-legged center stage, holding a stuffed animal.)

I get in trouble for taking a cookie from on top of the fridge, and the only thing I can ask is... why? There are so many other things worth getting in trouble for. Pollution. War. Genocide. Cheating. It’s all wrong, and yet it still happens, and they don’t get in trouble for it. Why does it seem that only children get punished for stupid things like taking cookies, and adults let the things that are much worse just... happen? The atmosphere struggles to breathe with all the chemicals seeping into the air. Thousands of innocent people die in the combat of war. Whole races die in the process of a genocide. I just don’t get it. Why can’t the whole world just be like you and I, Mr. Velvet? 

(Holds out stuffed animal and looks at it. Strokes the fur.)

Why does it need to be such a bad place. I wish we could just fly away and be gone of all the troubles that get in our way. Because, well... When we get to be adults, we’ll have to deal with all the problems that adults in this world now are passing down to us. The worse they make it, the harder our job will be when we get that old. I mean, that won’t happen for like... I don’t know... Whatever. I guess the only thing I can do is just sit here and watch. Adults don’t care what some kid has to say about how the world works, and how to fix it. I might as well not even try. It’s not like I’ll actually help, right? It’s just me and you, Mr. Velvet. We’re in this together.

(Leans back on hands, and crosses legs while looking off into the distance.)

  I don’t know for how long we’ll have to be, but we’ll be in this together for as long as we need to. Grownups just don’t understand that there is only one planet. They don’t understand that once this one is destroyed with their carelessness, it’s over. I know I’m too old to be talking to some stuffed animal, and my parents have the mindset that I must be 8 years old, but I guess I just have to deal with it. Deal with the world. Deal with everything. Who knew what the weight of living would be? But... Maybe I can do something. Maybe I can let my voice be heard.

(Stands up while holding the arm of the stuffed animal in one hand.)

Maybe, just maybe, I can be that voice that makes it through to them. I can be that person that everyone wishes they were. I can be that person that puts words to thousands of unheard voices. I can be anything, because I tell myself I can be. In fact, I can be more than anything. I can be everything. I can be everything that the adults don't know. I can be everything that I am meant to be and more. Mr. Velvet, I know you can't respond, but I'm sure you would do the same thing.

(Looks to audience. Spreads arms.)

"I am nothing but a kid," is what we're grown up in this society to think. But no, I will be more than "just a kid." I will be the voices of my generation. The voices of a lifetime. The voices that need to be heard. I will be... Everything I need to be. Remember, Mr. Velvet. We're in this together, right? 

 

I think I'm hungry,or not!

Posted by Joie Nearn in English 2 - Pahomov - A on

“OMG I AM SO HUNGRY AMY!!!!”

NO, I’ve gotten so far with this I’m not going to start eating now. You know I just make cupcakes for Susana’s birthday and I just want one!! You know what Amy you don’t understand me you’re skinny . well… I’ve been doing good all week and my period is about to come on so I am PMSing its okay, this always happens. just one. (takes one bite) This shit is good as shit. mmmmm mhhhh mmmm … I can bake. (after  finished eating  it walks into the bathroom) ….No What am  I doing. Get it together TARA… but Why am I so fat.It is crazy how hard I starve myself and try everything in my power to loose weight. why can’t I be like those white girls who are so skinny.  I want to eat what I want and when I do I have to throw it right up?

Waking up everyday and looking in the mirror and not liking what I  see is aggravating. I hate how I look. I hate walking the the Halls and feeling like I don’t belong. Last year when I was a freshman people used to say I looked like a monster. I don’t appreciate being constantly made fun of by them because of how I look. Being constantly criticized by them does not make me feel better about myself. I should not wake up everyday feeling like I don’t belong. The life I live is horrible. I hate when people” say awww your not fat you’re just thick”. No my favorite is when the skinniest person says “I’m so fat” Well what the hell am I than?.

You know what I’m doing for a fun tomorrow! Yeah that sounds like a plan...running NO… but I hate running. I hate sweating. What is it called perception, no persperate. I don’t like to perspire. Well, guess thats that. I need to be skinny. I am so fat. I want to stick my finger down my throat but I’m scared. My fat fingers are too big to be shoving down my throat like sausage links.

Why can’t I wake up look in the mirror and love myself. I should not feel like everyone around me is better. I should feel confident enough to feel like being me and live my life. Being skinny is all I want to be.




The Car Ride

Posted by Naomi Fecher-Davis in English 2 - Pahomov - A on

(5 people sitting in the car. In the back it is Nora in the middle and her brother and sister on wither side with her dad driving and her step mom next to him. Nora is hungover. They are all on their way to Thanksgiving dinner.)

My father is lecturing my brother about decision making. He keeps using me as an example of good decision making. I went to a party last night and got super wasted. My dad picked me up and I probably did the smartest thing ever, I told him that everybody there was smoking and drinking and that I thought they were all really stupid for doing that. Of course after that he never for a second thought that I would be doing that stuff, I mean why would he. When I got home he told my brother how proud of me he was, and that he should use me as an example of what not to do, I think my brother saw right through the lies. My brother keeps shooting me looks like “thanks a lot, you went out and got wasted and I’m paying for it”. I feel a little bad, I didn’t mean for my brother to get lectured, but what can I say? I had to do what I had to do, I couldn’t get caught. My parents would never let me out of the house again. The way I think about it, I did what had to be done.

The problem here isn’t actually me getting my brother in trouble, but the fact that my head is pounding, my eyes can’ts stay open and I think I might be dying. Oh god I’m dying. (sigh) Okay well maybe not dying, but I honestly don’t know how I’m going to get through this.

Now my dad is yelling at my brother for God only knows what and why my sister is talking to herself. She’s mumbling things that nobody can hear. Why does she always do this? Or a better question, what the hell is she doing? God, she is so annoying sometimes. Why can’t she just be normal? She’s always off in her own world. I feel like when I was her age I was sooo much more mature. She might be the baby of this family, but that doesn’t mean she can be a baby her entire life. She looks “speecciall”, if you know what I mean. She looks like she belongs in a “speecciall” house. Why does anyone… Oh god all this thinking is making my head hurt.

“Hey Dad, are we almost there?”

Of course I get no response. Why would you ever think of responding? That’s like a foreign idea to him. Whatever. I don’t even care. I just want to be there. Why aren’t we there yet? Wait, maybe we are this looks familiar… wait no it doesn’t its just more dead corn fields. I want to be there. I want this day to be over. Wait what? No I don’t, Aunt Madge makes the best mashed potatoes ever. Ugh I love mashed potatoes! I love them almost yellow and creamy. Oh my god and apple pie! So much deliciousness. I love Thanksgiving. I need Thanksgiving. Where are weeee? I want to be there already. Hey it’s quiet. Why is it quiet? Oh wait. We’re here!!!

ENG2-013

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2013-14

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