One evening, I got to thinking about peer pressure. It is something that challenges each and everyone of us, and we have the choice to resist it, or to give into it. This may seem like a simple choice, but once you are the subject of peer pressure, you will realize the difficulty of resisting its forces. On that evening, I wrote this poem in the hopes that it will inspire many other people to be themselves, not what other people want them to be.
Everywhere,
Everyone,
A force pulls at them,
Pulls them until they cannot resist much longer.
It seeps into everything,
It tells people how to look,
How to act,
How to be,
It whispers to us our imperfections,
Slowly gnawing away at our sense of self.
It tells us we’re not good enough,
It tells us to look like the popular girls.
No.
Push it away,
stop it from taking over you,
From changing you,
Because you be you and I’ll be me.
No.
Ignore its’ demanding that you rip yourself apart and put yourself together again in the hopes that people will like you more,
Okay just for an explanation, my English teacher last year made my class do this game where we wrote a short story in the span of 5 minutes. I liked the game so much I started doing it for fun. I’m starting with the suspense genre. My next suspense tool is phobias:
The Stranger’s sly smile greets me as I exit my room. “Today’s going to be a fun one, Ali.”
My stomach drops as he leads me back to the testing room. The Stranger holds the door for me, but I stop in the middle of the doorway, shocked. A white, pouch-like contraption stands in the middle of the room. It is held by multiple cords and pipes that jut out in various directions.
“It’s beautiful, isn’t it.” The Stranger says, “Jervis worked on it all night. It looks just like my designs.”
Jervis is his assistant. He has a high-pitched, stuttering voice as if he wants to say everything all at once. His pale skin is bright in the hospital like lights as he limps up to me.
“S-so this is j-just like any other t-test,” Jervis says to me “We’ll p-put y-you in that rubbery bag th-thingy,” he has such a way with words, “And it will just weigh you and stuff. Then we’ll start the test.” He leads me to the opening of the bag and I step in, using my shaking hands to hold it open. Jervis closes it and a few seconds later, I hear a switch flip.
The first thing that happens is that all the air leaves my lungs. I let out a yell, but my scream dies in my throat as I suffocate.
Oh god, I think to myself, he’s pulling all the air out. I claw at the rubber quickly encasing me. This isn’t like the other tests. The sweat gathering on my body fills it. I slip and fall. Hard. I try to stand. Bam. I crash onto the floor. Again, I try to get up. Slowly but surely I manage to stand. Black dots cloud my vision. My lungs burn. I try to breathe in, but fail and make a choking noise. My whole body has a pulse. I suck in air but fail. I’m drowning. I’m going to die, I realize. Just as I start to feel my life fading, I hear The Stranger’s voice calmly say, “Shut it off, Jervis. Her vitals are getting low”
It opens and I collapse. I pant and lay there for a minute. “Only five seconds? I expected more from you. We’ll try again tomorrow, Ali dear,” The Stranger says. I hate it when he calls me dear.
Unfortunately my ten minutes ended here and so does Ali’s story.
Okay just for an explanation, my English teacher last year made my class do this game where we wrote a short story in the span of 5 minutes. I liked the game so much I started doing it for fun. I’m starting with the suspense genre. My second suspense tool is a time constraint:
He cursed under his breath as the screen flashed red again. He was down to 3 tries left on the passcode. The ticking seemed to get louder as he hurriedly made another calculation as if it would help him. He typed in another code. The screen flashed red.
“Callen, we have three minutes.” Alice said nervously behind him.
“I know, I know, I know.” He muttered.
“Cal do you know what’s a stake here. You need to speed it up.” Noah said, his voice rising.
“I know what’s at stake! It’s a literal bomb! Now shut up and let me focus.” He type in the new code. Red. “Shoot,” Callen muttered.
There was a minute left. He tried to remember anything the stranger had said that could be a code. “30 seconds Callen,” Alice said nervously.
The words “simple,” echo through his head. It was the last thing the stranger had said to them after he had locked them in.
Quickly he types in the final code, 1234. The count down stops. His heart starts racing, he gets read for the explosion. The screen goes green. He laughs out a breath. “That felt too easy,” Noah whispers.
High school is a stressful time. As is middle school. There’s a constant pressure to conform, to be just like everybody else. Pressure to like the books and music everyone else likes, pressure to be popular and “cool.” Pressure to blow hundreds of dollars on new clothes to keep up with a fashion that will be out of style in two weeks. All of this pressure builds up, making it hard to stay true to yourself, hard to even remember who you truly are. But try to break free from that pressure. Try to remember. And know that you are, above all, enough.
You are enough.
More;
a rockstar,
a superhero,
someone truly
one-of-a-kind.
You are unique.
So flaunt it and just
be yourself.
In this
cruel world,
it may be hard
at times
to stay true
to yourself.
But remember.
There is only
one you.
There will only ever be
one you.
Your eyes,
your smile,
your laugh,
who you are
as a person.
None of that
can ever be
replicated.
None of that
can ever be
taken
from you
because that is
uniquely you.
You are
beautiful.
You are
perfect.
You are
enough.
So remember.
Even if your day
is hard,
even if your life
is hard,
you are enough.
And that is enough.
So be yourself.
Because who else
would you want
to be?
This is a free verse poem I wrote for a speech class of mine, but I decided to share it with you. Maybe it’s a little cliche, but it’s something I truly believe in. I based my entire eighth grade commencement speech on this very concept: you are enough and you are beautiful, just the way you are. I, too, sometimes struggle with myself. I often get frustrated and angry and stressed. But reminders like this help me keep my thoughts in line, help me get back on track. Hopefully this little poem was your reminder today.
Okay just for an explanation, my English teacher last year made my class do this game where we wrote a short story in the span of 5 minutes. I liked the game so much I started doing it for fun. I’m starting with the suspense genre. My first suspense tool that I’m using is isolated setting:
It was well past midnight and Chris was sitting in his apartment living room.
The images scattered across the floor still made no sense to him. His eyelids struggled to stay up as he stared at the seemingly impossible to solve puzzle. It was eerily quiet, which scared Chris more than he would like to admit.
Then a faint ticking noise started coming from his dining room. Adrenaline pumped through as he began to imagine all the things that could’ve created the noise. His heart pounded in his chest. Chris’s parents always swore that it got easier but, with his nerves, living alone would always seem to be scary, especially at night. He knew better than to say anything. Whenever he had watched horror movies with his friends he always thought it was funny when the main character said, “Hello?” as if the thing that is trying to kill them would answer.
He slowly stood up, heart racing, and took small, quiet steps until he reached the kitchen. The noise grew louder and louder with each step he took. He reached his shaking hand to the light switch and pressed it as silently as he could. The ticking noise seemed to grow louder than a car horn. The lights filled the dining room and there was… nothing. Nothing except a small envelope that was tucked away into a cupboard, the corner peeking out. He crossed the room, looking around with paranoia. He picked the opened the envelope and read it quickly. It said, “Can you find me?” with a small cartoonish picture of a clock at the bottom corner. The ticking noise filled the whole room and Chris covered his ears.
Although I wanted to continue the time did run out and this is where Chris’s story ends.
A short story on Freak the Mighty by Rodman Philbrick
Max and Freak are walking along a new sidewalk that they discovered. The further they walked, the chillier and windier it got. Slowly, the color of the cement warped into red. The cement turned into red metal. When Max looked down, he saw cars and the ocean. There were also some jagged rocks sticking out from the clear-yet-murky water. Around him was the red metal and chords holding up beams and a road. The Golden Gate Bridge. Freak gasps.
“I’ve always wanted to go to San Francisco and see the Golden Gate Bridge with Fair Gwen!” He exclaims, “I never imagined being on top though… How did we get here?”
Freak continues looking around in excitement and confusion.
“And how do we get back?” Max asks the million-dollar question.
Freak shrugs nonchalantly, not concerned.
“Who cares? We’re at the Golden Gate Bridge,” he says.
Max sighs.
“What about Grim, Gram, and Fair Gwen? They’re going to be worried about us when we don’t come home,” he retorts, “Staying here is not an option.”
Freak continues to look around, and pulls out a polaroid camera.
“Just one quick photo,” Freak insists.
Max sighs.
“Ok, fine,” he says.
Once the photo is snapped, Max realizes the problem.
“We still don’t know how to get home,” he says.
Freak sighs. Magically, a portal appears, close enough for Freak and Max to jump into.
“Wait…We don’t know where this leads,” Freak points out.
Max sighs once more.
“We need to get home. Let’s just take the risk,” he says, deciding it was worth it.
Taking deep breaths, Freak and Max blindly jump into the portal. There is a blinding light, and Max opens his eyes slowly, looking around.
“WHOOHOO!” He whoops, “We’re back home!”
Freak looks around as well and sees they are back on the sidewalk that they started on. No Golden Gate Bridge in sight.
“Yay!” Freak says, a little disappointed that they aren’t at the Golden Gate Bridge anymore.
Or anywhere else. He was hoping for an adventure. Maybe go to a magical land, like in Lion Witch, and the Wardrobe. They begin walking back home again. Once they reach their homes, they wave goodbye.
“That sort of an adventure,” Freak says.
Max nods at him.
“It was sorta fun,” he says.
Freak smiles and waves. Once Freak goes inside, he sees Fair Gwen sitting on their couch reading a novel. The title says Crown of Thorns by Evelyn Carmine. Sounds like an adult book.
“Hi Fair Gwen,” Freak greets his mother, who’s real name is Gwen.
Fair Gwen waves at him.
“Hey Kevin!” She says.
Fair Gwen didn’t notice my absence, Freak thinks and then goes to his room and opens his dictionary…
Max enters his home and sees Grim and Gram, his grandparents. They are watching television.
“Hey Grim! Hey Gram!” Max greets them.
They showed no signs of noticing he was a little late. Max looks at the clock. 4:32. Two minutes late. That’s ok. Gram waves and smiles.
“Hi Max!” She says.
Grim grunts.
“Hey Max,” He says, then looks back at the TV. Max goes down to his room and lays on the bed. Closing his eyes, he slowly falls asleep. Today was a long day, Max thinks tiredly.
You should always name things. It’s just so much more fun that way! Why ask where your water bottle is, when you could ask why Harry is? Why complain about your cast when you could whine about Brad? Not only does naming things help you remember them, it also brings a little positivity to your life.
Naming things is an effective way to remember your items. It creates a sense of family. Not only that, it’s just so fun that you can’t possibly forget! It is however much easier to find where you put, let’s say headphones, if you can yell out “HAS ANYONE SEEN BEATRICE?!?!” Then all of your family members also know exactly what you are looking for.
Another reason to name things is to bring some positivity to your life. Let’s all be real, naming random things can bring a smile to your face. Whenever I hear someone call my friend’s water bottle Harry, it’s just so random and hilarious that I have to laugh, or at least smile. If you are having a bad day, something this simple can really brighten it up.
To conclude, you should always name things. Life is just better that way.
Learning a new language can be very beneficial, but it can also be one of the most challenging endeavors. When I had to fulfill my high school graduation requirements by taking Spanish this summer, it was quite tough. I decided to take my Spanish class at my local community college because my school offers dual enrollment for the summer. I could provide more details about this whole experience, but that would take a long time.
Honestly, it was worth it because now I got it out of the way, but I was so bad at all of it that I had to contact a lot of my Spanish-speaking friends to help me. It was a difficult couple of weeks, I will admit.
Writing about that experience also helped me get introduced to the fact that learning a new language so late in life is very difficult, I mean usually when we get good at something, most of us start off young. An example would be that I have been dancing since I was a kid, I practiced a lot and went to classes but at the same time, I honed that and now I can confidently say that I can dance.
Speaking another language is a similar concept. I must admit, people my age who know more than just one language are impressive! But then I remember that it’s never too late to learn something new. I know that if I truly try hard enough, I can fully learn another language. All I need is the right mindset and the proper resources.
My name is Zemis. I am the Chieftess of the Tribe of Sea. We worship the gods and goddesses of the Great Sea. Those gods and goddesses are Lord Nautilus, god of Sea creatures, Lady Altria goddess of the Great Sea, Lady Tamor goddess of Sunken Ships, Lady Lirel goddess of Water, Lady Esther, goddess of the said to be Mythical sea creatures called the Umbrae, and Lord Rlira, husband of Lady Altria and god of the Great Sea. All said to live near Blue Bay, where the Tribe of Sea resides. Lately the goddess of the sea, Altria, has been restless. We hope that if we give her a tribute, then she will become calm. If that does not work, we will give her a handcrafted trident, embedded with gems. It’s good to have a back-up plan right?
~*~
Our tribute is our finest fruits, a chest full of jewels and silk, enchanted armor and weapons, as well as a volunteer, Iris, to protect Altria when she herself cannot. If something goes wrong, hopefully the trident will tide Altria over. The trident has been in my family for centuries. Adorned in diamonds, emeralds, and amethyst. My messenger, Lilly, sent this letter to Lady Altria and Lord Shyros.
Lady Altria and Lord Shyros,
I, Zemis, Chieftess of the Tribe of the Great Sea, request your presence in Blue Bay for a Tribute Ceremony.
Jewels, silk, our finest fruits, and a guard, Iris, volunteered to be given as well. I hope you will come.
Timok,
Zemis
Hopefully they will come. We need to be able to receive and send out ships. Tsunamis are very dangerous. After the letter is sent, I wait patiently for Lady Altria and Lord Shyros to arrive. If they even come. Suddenly, a loud ringing sounds throughout the Capitol of the Great Sea. The bell for when an imperial being arrives. Imperial beings are gods and goddesses.
“MS. ZAMOE!” Yelled a new trainee as Guard of the Bell. Whose name I think is Tarlock.
“Dear, it’s Zemis,” I replied. Tarlock blushes profusely. “Sorry miss,” He says apologetically.
“It’s quite alright,” I reassure him with a warm smile, “No harm done.”
He nods in thanks. “I came to inform you that Lady Altria and Lord Shyros have arrived,” He says.
I smile again. “Thank you for informing me,” I tell him.
I then run up to my room to change. I change into a white dress that goes up to my knees with flared out sleeves. Then slip on some black boots with heels and I leave down to the harbor. Everything is set up perfectly thanks to my sister, Evumeimei, but everyone calls her Mei or MeiMei. I bow down low to Altria and Shyros.
“What is this? We were promised something grand,” Altria spoke. Was what was in front of her not grand?
~*~
I sighed. I had hoped it wouldn’t come to this.
“In the letter I informed you of jewels, silk, and fruits, your imperial beings,” I tell them.
“No, this is not acceptable,” Shyros grits out, as if our very presence ails him.
“If this is not acceptable to you, I have another offering,” I inform.
“Oh?” Altria asks, intrigued.
I nod. Then gesture to MeiMei to bring the trident. Once she hands it to me, I kneel and present it.
“The Trident of Prosperity, passed down in my family for eons. I offer it to you, Lady Altria and Lord Shyros,” I solemnly say.
Altria raises an eyebrow. “The Trident is powerful, the aura of magic is strong. Thank you, Zemis. We will treasure this tribute and the Great Sea will return to calm,” She says.
I bow. “Thank you, Lady Altria, Lord Shyros,” I say.
I had hoped silks, jewels, and fruits would be enough to satisfy them but the Trident did. Like I said, it’s always good to have a backup plan.
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Mission Viejo Library Teen Voice 