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Anais Vionet May 25
Can you make a friend— like a craft project?
I know, I hear this parental voice, “just be yourself.”

All of my classes this semester will be in one building, but I’m a control freak, I wanted to walk my schedule, go class to class, like I will on my first day. I have a locker too—this is so high school—but I wanted to find it, try the combination and plan what I’ll carry. I have questions too, like how’s the wi-fi, are there charging outlets, and where can I get coffee?

Orientation is Tuesday—but who can wait until Tuesday? Classes start Wednesday.  I’d never sleep this weekend with so many questions. I’m already having dreams where I’m lost, late and embarrassed.

So there I was, this morning, dressed for class with my green messenger bag—doing it—schedule in hand. I went into a small auditorium with cushioned, crimson, theater seating—where my first class will be—and there’s this other girl, dressed for class, schedule in hand.

We were like twins, except she’s tall and black and I’m not. Right off she commanded me, handing me her phone, no preamble, no “How do you do,” to “Take my picture.”
Of course, I obeyed, I’m not from outer space. I burst 50 quick frames, as she slightly varied her pose and she did likewise for me.

Her name is Chella and she graduated from Yale last week too, with a ‘Bachelor of Science in Global Affairs.’ I think I saw her on campus once or twice but our paths had never directly crossed.
“But IS "Global Affairs" a science degree?” I asked skeptically.
“Probably not,” she answered, “but some of us can live with ambiguity.”
Her first direct, commanding phrase limns her personality perfectly.
Yeah, we hit it right off.
.
.
Songs for this:
Cruel To Be Kind by Letters to Cleo
Perfect Day by Povo
Are You Trying to Be Funny? by Everything But the Girl
BLT Merriam Webster word of the day challenge 05/24/25:
limn = to portray in clear sharp detail
G May 21
In another life, my world would be different.

I would live in one house, with two parents that love each other, and my one dog that deserved to live.

I would be caught up on school, have perfect teeth, and feel like the things i say would want to be heard.

I would have friends that lived nearby, and we would hang out almost every night till it was time to go to bed, and then wake up the next morning and do it all again.

The moral of the story is that if i could choose, my life would be different, but that’s not in this life, only in another.
Azelea V May 11
May
its May and the flowers are starting to smile
the little creatures are flying out and about
the breeze lets out heaps of warm sighs
the sky looks excited to witness the shenanigans

for so long i prayed for happiness
i never stopped;
and along the way i collected hope and faith

now it feels like every single thing is telling me
that I won , I finally won
I only know how to laugh in the places i cried
spring and summer of life, the coldness has vaporised into warmth and laughter
G May 19
There’s so many poems I want to share..

But something within me says to save them

Save a piece of myself away from the world

Away from the souls of others
G May 19
I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling as the hours tick by

1..2..3 am

I can’t sleep.

I toss and turn trying to find comfort, but its impossible

I can’t sleep.

I count to 126 trying to find fatigue, but its impossible

By 3:30 i manage to rest.

I wake at 11:00, almost noon..

Half my day is gone..
G May 19
I crave physical touch.

I want to be wrapped in someone’s arms as i listen to the musical drum of their heart and the reverberation of their voice as they speak to another

I want to hold hands with the people i love and never let go in hopes that they’ll stay forever
G May 19
Here i sit in the back watching you two interact

I don’t want to feel this way but i do

You’re both carefree and happy as I’m just a spectator waiting for love
G May 19
We’re sitting here talking about my future

I’m dazing off into space

I’m not sure what i am

Or who i want to be..
G Sep 2024
You will forever be the essence of my only sun.

I will love you till the day I die, I will say a prayer to you every night.

No matter the time of day I will always talk to you.

Every. Step. Of the way.

You are the essence of my sun  because you could bring the whole world to its knees with just your smile.

I would do anything to see you again..

And I hope you know that.
EJ Crowe May 15
"Welcome, Black Sheep"
by E.J. Crowe

To the humans that drift in between—
the ones life cast aside, marked as trash.
Why?
Because you're an addict: *****, pills, ****, cigarettes.
All man-made, not God-given.
The Lord sees us in His image—
until we sin.
Good equals bad.
Bad equals chaos.
One cannot thrive without the other.
World peace?
A pipe dream, forged by hopeless humans
for a false sense of security.
A marvel.
A utopia born from delusion.

To the addict who didn’t make it out—
I'm sorry.
Your funeral was beautiful.
You looked majestic. Clean.
A perfect family model now, I guess.
But why the fake suit?
Why the empty words?
No one wants to accept the guilt
of making you a black sheep.
A martyr.

But I saw you.
I saw the silent cries
through needle-laced veins,
your glass mask,
your bloodied eyes.
You were the truth—unfiltered.
At least you had the ***** to be you.

Through the rabbit hole—
how deep does it sway?
Which pill do you take?
Red or blue?
Reality or comfort?
Blurred contrasts of fake existence.

“Drugs are bad,” they scream
from their ivory towers,
judging God’s creation
through man’s corruption.

I was an addict.
I loved to pop pills.
I loved throwing up blood
and waking up in unfamiliar towns,
in strange houses,
sweating,
smelling like shame and stale cigarettes.

Wash that truth down
with your cold beer.
I loved to party.
And addiction loved me back, right?

Did it love the lost souls too?
That’s a loaded question—
barreled with flaws and hollow points.
A hard truth,
etched in scars and injection marks.

Welcome to the family,
fellow black sheep.
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