Coral Phoenix

You asked me, Reader, in one divine moment, “What is your favorite color?” I wanted to tell you that my favorite was Coral, a friend of mine; but to describe her with a single word would surely insult the hue. The color is a phoenix, you see, born in the morning with the rising fire of the sun. When you cry, your eyes glistening, she lives and breathes in the flesh of your cheeks. The color named Red burns on forever; but it is merely the sound and fury of your heated heart. My Coral is the true quintessence of passion. She is the singer of your love song; she is the cloak of the flamingo; she is the flavor of sweet peaches on salty lips. I feel her when my soul flutters, for she is the soft pink light that warms my skin. The color is a phoenix, Reader. She dies each night, fading to ash with the setting of the sun; but she will return for her love with the coming of the dawn. 

The above was a quick thing that I wrote for AP Composition. I liked it, so I thought I’d post it.

Lovely day,

Kennedy

“I’ve learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel.”
― Maya Angelou

Where Liberty Dwells

“Happy 4th of July!”

I have heard it a million times today and I’ve said it quite a few times myself, but I didn’t really start thinking about the phrase until the day was almost over. Why do we say “4th of July?” Perhaps it’s merely because “4th of July” is a syllable shorter than “Independence Day” and it’s quite a bit easier to spell. When I think about it, though, the phrase is something of a disappointment because it completely disregards the meaning of the holiday.

I did one of those things where you think for a long time (uh-oh), and I realized that Independence Day is such an important event. I’ve never been very patriotic, honestly. But today I understand exactly what a blessing it is to be an American (for all of my non-American readers, I love you all and I hope you have awesome rights).

Do not forget why America became America.

Independence Day is about freedom! I mean, of course we’re not paying outrageous taxes to any sort of European king because this is America (our very own independent country), and that’s all well and good. But I think it’s about more than that. Way back when there were pilgrims and stuff, we left Europe because we wanted to make our own decisions and form our own beliefs. (You’re probably like “Duh…”) Think about it though! There are so many things that we can be doing that we simply are not doing. Here are the three main ones I’ve been thinking about:

1. We can believe whatever we want to. There will be people who say that what you believe is stupid or wrong, and who cares? You get to believe what you want without being put into jail for it. If you want to go to church, you can do so. If you want to pray, you can do that whenever or wherever you want. You can carry a Bible or whatever book it is that you want to read from. You can take a stand for/against abortion and you can take a stand for/against video games or whatever it is. Nobody is stopping you, because this is America… If we have this amazing right, why do we so seldom take advantage of it? I mean, I see so many people choosing to believe what their friends/teachers/parents tell them they should. And I do it too!!! When I think of Independence Day, I realize how important it is to open our eyes and look at what’s true and right. We cannot rely only on what people tell us- we have to learn things for ourselves and make a decision. Not everyone has this right. Let’s use it.

2. We can say anything we want to! I’m not talking about screaming profanities at the top of our lungs. No. I mean that we are allowed to express what we believe and why. When was the last time you sat in a room full of people who disagreed with you, and you still spoke your true thoughts? I admire people who are like that. I myself know that if everyone disagrees with me, I keep my mouth shut unless it’s something I’m passionate about. It happens every day! We’re afraid of what people will think of us, we want people to like us, so we keep our mouths shut about what we believe! Most of us don’t want to be bullied for what we stand for- so we take no stand. Today I realize that there is no point in believing something if you don’t say something about it. I can tell people that I am pro-life, and they can’t do anything to change that. But it will not matter that I’m pro-life unless I make it known- unless I tell the world why I disagree with abortion. I can stand for anything I want to, so maybe it’s time to do so.

3. We can do what we love. We can bake, we can sing, we can write, we can paint, we can become lawyers. It takes hard work, yes. Some of us will have to conquer some extreme financial barriers, yes. But we all have a chance to work hard so that we can do what we love. We’re not necessarily stuck doing the same thing our parents did or whatever. Let’s work hard to do what we love to do and be who we love to be.

So, anyways, I’m so thankful for all of these rights that we have in America. They absolutely don’t come for free. There are people out there fighting for us right now. They are fighting, not only for what they believe in, but so that we can believe what we want to. To those of you who fight for us- thank you.

To all the others- there are other ways we can fight for our freedom. I can think of two good ones: 1. Use your freedom. America is obviously becoming less okay with different beliefs, and this will continue if we let people mold us into what they want. We have to be independent individuals in order to have an independent nation. 2. Don’t break down people who have different beliefs than you. Of course we are all going to disagree. Does that mean I can’t be friends with someone who is pro-choice? Of course not. We listen to what people say so that they can use their freedom and we can use ours. We’re all different, but let’s stop being jerks about it. I mean, let’s grow up here and stop getting offended by everyone who disagrees.

So you have my two cents. This is important stuff guys. We have freedom that we don’t use. Let’s start using it in a way that is radical. Happy Independence Day!

-Kennedy

“The most courageous act is to think for yourself. Aloud.” –Coco Chanel

Book Review: Just Listen by Sarah Dessen

I like to think of a book as a meal- it has an entree, a few sides, sometimes even multiple courses- all flavored by spices or garnish. The quality of each individual part influences the quality of the whole. Ladies and gentlemen, I like  my meals to have some spice to them.

Just Listen was a piece of stale bread, accompanied by some watery soup.

I’ll give a super brief summary of the novel before I continue: Annabel is a high school model who is completely ignored by her former friends. She has two sisters, one of which is struggling with an extreme eating disorder. Annabel is keeping a secret (I won’t tell you what it is, but you can all guess). She meets Owen, who always tells the truth and pretty much seems awesome. He teaches her to speak her mind, and it’s all very magical… Not.

I wish I had something good to say for this book.

I’ll begin with our main character. Annabel, Annabel, Annabel Greene… She gave me no reason whatsoever to root for her. I mean, by the end of the book, I was just tired of her pity party. She made the decision to leave her best friend, to leave the guy who paid attention to her, and to wallow in her misery. Why would anyone want good things to come her way? I sure didn’t.

That aside, I was SO annoyed by Dessen’s use of flashbacks. The entire format of the entire book goes like this: 2 pages of story, AND THEN 25 PAGES of Annabel’s life story (then repeat throughout the book). I understand that SOME of these flashbacks are important to the story, but I really wanted to read what was going on in the present. I was so tired of jumping around in time, hearing the exact same stories over and over. In short, the flashbacks were WAY overused, and I question whether they were important at all, or just used to fill up space.

The message of the book could have been good. I have to admit, Dessen came pretty close to having about 20  good themes- but here was the problem: I got absolutely nothing out of this book, because it was all clearly stated on the surface. I didn’t have an epiphany moment. I didn’t realize something brilliant that can apply to my own life. Why? Because the author went right out and said it! You can’t just write a novel that says “You need to talk about your feelings.” You have to bring the reader slowly to that conclusion so that he/she can fully understand. Basically, this book had ONE layer- the surface one.

Okay, so maybe the book was okay just for an interesting story. Right? Nope. In fact, it was pretty much the most dull, formulaic story I have read in a long time. The girl has lost everything, the girl meets a boy, the boy teaches the girl something, blah blah blah. The story just wasn’t even believable to me. I mean, Owen has anger problems, but he acts just fine for the most part. He seems like a perfect guy who is just always there for her and incredibly patient- he did not seem real. Annabel learns her lesson and recovers over the course of like four days. Yeah, that doesn’t happen.

I could go on forever, but here’s a nice little summary:

Cons- The story was not believable; the main character didn’t have much going for her, Dessen kept ending statements with question marks; the backstories and flashbacks were endless; there was little to no depth, and Dessen tried (and failed) to make every single character a dynamic character.

Pros- Ummmm. Yeah, I got nothing.

With that, I hope you all have good reading.

-Kennedy

“There comes a time when the world gets quiet and the only thing left is your own heart. So you’d better learn the sound of it. Otherwise you’ll never understand what it’s saying.” –Sarah Dessen, Just Listen

We Are a Supernova

An interesting fact about stars: they’re constantly moving around in the universe. At a glance, we can’t see it because we’re looking at the big picture; but they’re out there, speeding around, always changing. Stars generate light energy of their very own, some of them in smaller amounts, and some of them as radiant as the sun.

At the end of a star’s existence, the explosion comes from within it- the core of the star. You never really know for sure when it’s going to happen; but one day it does. In the brief time before the star ceases to exist, it becomes brighter than it has ever been.

They call this a supernova.

It happens to the best of us. But I’d rather be remembered as an exploding star than an exploding bomb.

-Kenny

“When it is dark enough, you can see the stars.” –Ralph Waldo Emerson

We are a supernova.

Color Me a Coward

Control: something I do not have.

People will tell you a lot of things about eating disorders (the same things over and over), but you will never know the raw truth until see it first hand. I’ve seen eating disorders both glamorized and hated. I never formed any real opinion on them until it was too late to form an accurate one. Some people think that the disorder is something you can get rid of easily, but here’s the catch:

From the perspective of someone who is anorexic, there is no winning side- no right answer- and I’ll tell you why. If you eat food, you’re weak because you gave in. In that moment, you have lost control. In that moment, your feelings have won. But if you starve yourself, part  of you (be it large or be it tiny) knows that you are doing the wrong thing. You cannot tell anyone because they will not understand. That’s when you’re weak for doing something so disgusting to yourself.

Disgusting. It’s interesting how much I hate that word, yet it is the one that is always there. My mind whispers it every day. Disgusting. When I eat crackers- disgusting. When I eat chicken- disgusting. You’re disgusting me, Kennedy. The word echos. I hear it in the halls as though everyone is watching me. She’s disgusting, they must think. Tell me, would you rather be hated by yourself or by everyone else? Which is more dangerous?

It took me three years to even acknowledge that I had an eating disorder. Sometimes it’s easy to hide, sometimes it’s not. The thing is, this is not something I would advertise to anyone. When I developed this disgusting thing, it was between me, myself, and I. Almost anyone you asked would tell you that I ate like a normal person. You know why? Because I didn’t lose weight until after two years. So many people think that they’ll just stop eating and lose weight but that’s not the way it works. For a while, I actually gained weight because my body held onto every last food particle.

Another thing they don’t tell you is that there are other factors that have nothing to do with the size of your belly. For me, it was the feeling of being empty. My whole stomach felt as though it was closing in. My body was as empty as my heart, as empty as my wallet, as empty as a doughnut shop on a Saturday night. The pit inside of me growled and I didn’t listen because I was in control. I liked that. Control was more delicious than cheesecake. Satisfaction is the only way to describe it.

Disgusting: I refuse to let this word define me.

Lastly, I was never told that this would be inescapable. I made a commitment more than a semester ago to recover from my eating disorder. For a few months, I felt as though I had succeeded in becoming a normal eater again. I was skinnier AND I could eat food. Then I started gaining weight. Rapidly. I gained seven pounds. You can’t tell someone you have an eating disorder when you never did get skinny.

I’m about to say something demented, are you ready? Part of me wishes that I had never began this recovery process. Even though I feel healthy, I would take it back. Everyone says that I look healthy. But I have lost control. I have not won. I have given in. Every day, I lose. Every meal, I lose. I cannot stop it.

This is the part of the game where I am a monster for playing it. I am a monster for showing you the truth. And maybe I am a monster. But isn’t it easier to play pretend? Isn’t that what we’re all doing? I wish I could be strong. I wish I could make you happy. But this is the game where no one wins. I’m sorry.

Please, do not play this game. I assure you that nobody will tell you the rules. I can guarantee that you will lose. Unlike other games, this one will not end without crushing you. It will take you months or years to stop playing this game that you never wanted to play. Please, do not become one like me.

-Kennedy

“Do I want to die from the inside out or the outside in?”- Laurie Halse Anderson, Wintergirls 

 

Tell the Right Story

“No one knows for certain how much impact they have on the lives of other people. Oftentimes, we have no clue. Yet we push it just the same.”
― Jay Asher, Thirteen Reasons Why

Every moment of your life has the potential to change someone. You are always telling a story. Every decision you make shows who you are, and the way that you treat people shows who they are to you. Five years from now, you don’t want to look back and regret the way you looked at those people. This is your only chance to show people how amazing they are. Be remembered… But be remembered for the right reasons.

When Tides Change

You know, everything in the world is in constant motion. Everything is moving- even if you can’t see it. Some things move quickly, and some things move so slowly that you have to wonder how they can be going at all. If everything in the world is in constant motion, and if people are in the world, then people must be changing. Okay, that sounds like an incredibly obvious observation, which kinda makes me feel silly because I definitely had to learn this the hard way.

You don’t have to rely on other people. The only person who can live your life is you.

People change. There are people who were huge parts of my life, and I thought they would always be there. I thought I would always feel this deep and unending love for them. Not only that, but I was incredibly stubborn about it. I refused to accept the idea that things would change.

To be honest, it has made me miserable for the past few months because I’ve been holding onto the people of my past who simply aren’t there anymore. I wanted to hold onto the idea of loving them forever and ever. It took me months to realize that: Yes, I will always love these people; but they will change, and I will change, and my love for them will change. It is inevitable.

It will be okay.

I thought that these people would always be the same. They would always be the ones who were there for me during the bad dreams, the “almost eating disorder,” and the rough days. And you know what? Some of them will always be there. But I just can’t expect that to happen. Some of them will move on. They will get a new best friend, a new girl friend, or whatever it is. I have to embrace the idea that the people I love are growing, for better or for worse. Some of them will forget about me. Some of them will not care about me anymore. Some of them- people I loved and love like crazy- will get all mad at me and un-friend me on Facebook and I’ll be like “well, that’s pretty rude.”

The whole concept hurts like no other, but it is an essential part of moving forward. A few weeks ago, I said myself that “the thing about looking back is that it’s really hard to move forward.” I’m so busy grieving over these people who have changed, that I’m forgetting to look at the life that’s right in front of me. It’s time to let go, Kenny. Time to move forward.

I wish you all the best.

-Kenn

“Things change. And friends leave. Life doesn’t stop for anybody.” –Steven Chbosky, The Perks of Being a Wallflower

This Is Problematic

Sometimes I wonder what it’s like to love yourself. What do people see when they look at me? I would bet it’s so much different from what I see. Perhaps they see the eyes that are “butterscotch with flakes of gold,” but I really just see the circles carved under them. Maybe someone looks at me and sees the way my hair curls, but I really just see a dull brown curtain of frizz.

You know, I can see beauty in almost every single person that I meet. Really…. But lately when I look at myself in a mirror, I just have to look away because I feel SO ugly. I seriously look distorted to myself. My teeth terrify me, my hair seems to be unmanageable, my cheeks are unsymmetrical, and I am shaped like a pear. I feel like people must look at me and be grossed out. And I CAN’T escape it, ever.

That said, I’ve had quite a bit of trouble eating for the past few weeks. For a while, I definitely did not have an eating disorder- or even eating problems. It was great because I could just eat whenever I got hungry- full meals at a time! After that, I started eating smaller portions throughout the day.

Trapped…

Now, I feel utterly conscious of every single calorie that goes into my body…. I eat something, and I feel incredibly fat. BUT I DON’T STOP EATING. It’s like I’m always hungry. What the heck? I’m so used to never being hungry, and now I’m just always hungry. I’ve gained three pounds this semester. That’s a pretty big contrast to last semester, in which I lost eleven pounds.

I’m basically just freaking out because I feel like I’m blowing up like a balloon. This is a problematic situation. I do not like it. I also don’t want to develop another “almost” eating disorder. I worked so hard to get out of the last one….. I feel trapped and demented. Like a trapped, demented elephant.

-Kennedy

“For once, you believed in yourself. You believed you were beautiful and so did the rest of the world.” –Sarah Dessen, Keeping the Moon

The Monster

I do not know how he came to be so large. At times it seems that his youth has passed me by, and we have grown quite familiar. At first, I did not notice him lurking in the corner, slowly growing into something gruesome and abhorrent. In fact, I do not even know his name, though I have a fond disdain for him.

The room was once a mere room- a cube of white-washed walls, a window here, a screen door there. My childhood days took place under the white, simple shelter of the room. Sleepovers and birthday parties were thrown within these four white walls.

But, as most children do, I grew. The room and I, we matured in unison. One reflected the other; each a variable of a direct variation. I clothed the room with lace curtains as it clothed me with feminine cardigans. I furnished the room with each milestone of my life. Trinkets lay about, memories of former moments that would not be forgotten.

Each time I found a new memory, I placed it in the perfect spot. A lamp next to the sofa; a pearl necklace in my creaky wooden chest. The room became a brief memorandum of a million evenings personified by four creamy, off-white walls. Here I placed a thimble; there I placed a dictionary…

And over there, in the last corner of the room, I placed a small piece of my most vital organ. What I did not know, friend, is that a heart- when placed in the right conditions- will regrow and heal itself.

However, when placed in the wrong conditions, it will regrow into something new entirely.

I kept growing, and the room kept growing, and this dark seed kept growing and growing. He became the monster.  His putrid stench lingered in the fourth corner. He was not living, only being. A cavity perhaps? A black hole. One who stood near him would stifle a gag and glance away. Visitors came to admire the room, yet left with noses upturned. My room, though dressed with lace and decorated with summer days, was contaminated by the monster.

I tried time and time again to remove the unwanted beast; but no amount of bleach, no amount of tears, could detach him from the last corner of the room. When friends came to visit, I would cover him up, but he was not to be hidden.

My friend, I have learned to live with the monster. He is, after all, the offspring of my own broken heart.  Meals can be eaten quietly from across the room. Movies can be watched from the left side of the sofa (as long as I keep the volume low, the monster doesn’t mind). I have accepted that the monster may be budged or ignored, but never removed. To anyone else, he will be seen as a blemish, a failure, a mistake; but I know the monster. He is vile, brutish, seductive. He is sweet, sickly sweet, sour. He is death, he is forever, he is the end.

My friends, take care, for you may one day find a monster of your own. When you do, I can offer only one piece of advice to you:

Do not look into his deep brown eyes, lest you find that they are beautiful. Do not look into his deep brown eyes, lest he pull you in closer.

Carry On

“If you’re lost and alone, or you’re sinking like a stone, carry on.” –Carry On by Fun.

Sometimes I wonder why I make such a big deal of things. It really isn’t logical at all. I’ve been trying to change the way I react to things. It goes like this: Something hurts, and the pain demands to be felt. So you feel it, and then you carry on. You move forward. You keep going. However you want to say it. Just get out there, Kenny. There’s a whole world outside of this one situation. Live it up.