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Posts tagged as “creative writing”

Ghost

By Maddie Willigar | Assistant Editor

A chill still haunts my lungs from the words I never spoke.
They blew mistily through the air and carried weightless in the cold
because though I walked through walls for you, I was always just a
ghost.

Like an empty figure walking past your screens of smoke,
digging beneath your fire to find bits of treasured gold,
a chill still haunts my lungs for the words I never spoke.
Buried with my bones will be pieces that you broke
and left to sit in damp and filth, as they waste and rot and mold
because though I walked through walls for you, I was always just a
ghost. read more

Rag Doll

By Cami Stephens | Observer Contributor

I remember the first day you bought me.
“Look how pretty that doll is! I want her!”
Your eyes widened with passion and infatuation.
If only I knew that passion would be influenced by fiery.

I remember the day you took me out of the box,
You brushed my long blonde hair and told me how beautiful I was.
You couldn’t stop showing your friends and family your new, unused
rag doll.
“She’s so precious! I love her!” is what you say– while you look at me
with obsession. read more

Tangerine Summer

By Cody Nathanson | Observer Contributor

She drags the stool across the kitchen, vibrating against the tiles as it
moves.
With her eyes now above the counter, but beneath the bowl, she
reaches out.
Confident, she now holds the orange with both hands, jumping from
the stool.
As She now moves, so does her finger across the rind, looking for her
nail to catch.

Moving between the divide, her foot quickly finds the lip of the door
frame.
Catching herself, both hands now braced against the frame, she
stands.
She gives off a light breath, then another.
For across the room– on the armchair–the orange now sits. read more

Perseverance and Motivation

By Skyler Elliot | Observer Contributor

Recently in the neighborhood, one of the apartments in a nearby
building has been under construction. There are two men who work
long hours to get the renovation done. They spend much of their time
performing exhaustive and tedious tasks. The laborious hours take
their toll on them as they both carry heavy buckets of equipment up
and down the flights of stairs.

For many, the day has come to an end. The sun is down, the cold air
moves in, but these men remain hard at work. As the snowstorms
arrive, they shift away from their construction work and begin to
prepare for what else is to come. Covered in dust and dried paint,
they layer up to combat the cold. The snowblowers roar and the salt
cascades across the ground. read more

(Archive November 2016) The Older One Gets

By Rachel Vargeletis | Observer Contributor

Eyes tend to glisten with a certain, familiar
Shine of regret the older one gets.
Wrinkles tend to cast a deeper, darker shadow
Upon their chagrinned pretense
The older one gets.

“Sorry”s feel empty and
“I love you”s only feel like a way of apologizing.
The sun hurts more than is ever brightens your day,
And suddenly,
You find your feet sore from
The routine
Instead of bouncing in eager leaps across each room,
Craving sand under their seasoned edges
And wet dirt between their wriggling toes,
The older one gets. read more

(Archive October 2016) Lessons I Had to Learn on My Own Because of You

By Rachel Vargeletis | Observer Contributor

Never in my life do I remember my chest physically hurting more than it did the moment I realized I meant nothing. I breathed, I was alive, but I wasn’t living. It, pathetically enough, seemed like my world was over. It felt as if he was ringing my heart dry in his clenched fists, drawing out every last bit of worth and feeling I could try to muster. There was a new crack developing in every one of my bones as each word bounced off his tongue, one by one in a calamitous nose dive.

“I didn’t mean to use you, but I guess I did . . .” Crack.

“I guess I just don’t find you emotionally attractive . . .” Snap.

“You wouldn’t be enough . . .” Total heartbreak.

And from that day on, I swear I was worthless.

It’s like learning how to ride a bike, but on a tightrope. That is how it feels to try and make yourself believe (if you even tried) that you are more- more than this anyway. More than that dumb boy who added to this dumb seemingly perpetual feeling that I will never be enough- or I never even was to begin with.

To clear some things up; yes, as cliché as it sounds- I, a young woman, got my heart broken by a young man that probably wasn’t worth my time in the first place maybe once or twice. Like an abusive relationship, I kept coming back and coming back, trying to make things work – somehow – with a boy I was never actually in a relationship with. I had already told myself I’d find no one better. I was so messed up in the head, I convinced myself I wasn’t settling, per say, I just earnestly believed I deserved nothing better than what I was “dished”. It didn’t feel like he wasn’t worth my time- for the longest time- and as accurately as I can try and appropriately explain that sad situation to be, all that really matters- all that I can actually benefit from now were the lessons I had to learn from that one person. Lessons I believe with every ounce of my (now) well-being, every single man or woman, girl or boy, need to come to know.

Going through a pain like the one I did where my whole world was demolished at the blink of an eye and for years afterwards, is something I would never wish on anyone. And one of the biggest accomplishments in my life, honestly, is overcoming that nothingness that was so deeply imbedded in me.

Life, itself, is falling down, but living is getting back up- and that’s why what I can take from this is far greater than what I went through.

This accomplishment in my life, of getting back up, has really given me the greatest satisfaction. It may seem petty from an outsider, however especially necessary to me in my journey through life. What I have taken from this experience I call: “The Lessons I Had to Learn on my Own Because of You”:

Lesson Number One: I don’t need somebody; I may want somebody- but I am not lacking anything on my own.

Lesson Number Two: My worth is not determined by the arch of my curves, or the flutter of my eyelashes, and even the weight of my step.

Lesson Number Three: If I am not worth someone’s time and effort, they are not worth my affections.

Lesson Number Four: I am altogether lovely, from the girth of my hips, to the snort when I laugh, the width of my feet, and the heart on my sleeve.

Lesson Number Five: Sometimes the end of your world is the beginning of something better.

Lesson Number Six: I am not nothing; I am not even something. I am everything even if you can’t see that.

Without a bottom low, and a (small) desire to keep going, I will have never known how high I can possibly go on my own- by myself- without any boy, because I am worth it, can capable of amazing heights. And I don’t need anyone else to come to that realization. Just as I hope you will too.