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a space for youth writing on mental health & identity
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a space for youth writing on mental health & identity
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![]() TW: mental health & self-harm “My hair was kept so short, combed flat when wet. I never knew my hair was wavy until I was nearly twenty-two and never went outside with wet and uncombed hair until I was twenty-eight.” -Kazim Ali, “Home” ![]() Trigger warning for panic attacks. all i know is the pressure of the monstrous mountain as it crushes my chest, grinding against my lungs, chipping away at the air in my throat until all i can feel is debris, sinking into my skin, ![]() TW: death and grief, obsessive-compulsive disorder Sometime during my sophomore year of high school, in the middle of one of our increasingly frequent fights, my mom said, “I lost my mother to fear; I won’t lose you too.” My father took it a step further. “Think about Grandma Mary,” he said. Then, “And look what happened to Grandma Barb.” ![]() jasmine tucked behind your right ear, kohl carved under your eyes, your whisper is song; & & & if your mouth is a harmonica, let me make music, thunder as we bathe in moonlight, under the ocean of purplish stars who will gaze at us, cheeks rouged ![]() the boat I made did not take all night but I folded and taped as I licked my paper cuts my eyes propped open with pins and when it floated in the pond my stomach capsized upon itself watching it float idly along behind the others ![]() “We should probably go inside,” Elle says. “It’s dangerous here, you know.” The two other girls don’t listen. They stand with their backs to the house, watching the sky curdle into black above. A sheet of dust covers the road, clothing the air in its smell. The street lights have gone out. Inside the house, the TV has turned to static, the screen blinking to life only in intervals; any minute now and it’ll be dead. ![]() This is a letter for the broken soldier, The shattered man who’s lost his mooring post, He walks with heavy steps among company who fractured with him, Nurses wounds that go deeper than skin, deeper than flesh, ![]() Trigger Warning: Loss Minutes before midnight, when the last lights in the neighborhood insist on dimming, the mother walks down the dirt path that leads, like every other street here, to the wishing well, the one each house overlooked, including theirs. ![]() That pink teddy bear has been in my room my entire life. It came with us on each move, stuffed into a suitcase and spat back out onto my new bed, its eyes fixed on me again in each new room, watching me always. That pink teddy bear has never had a name to me. I’m not sure I ever really liked it as a child. It was ragged and old, its figure stiff and its design uninteresting. Its glassy black eyes peeked out from behind tufts of faded fur, bubblegum dye bleeding out to the ends of each coarse hair on its aging coat. ![]() Trigger Warning: Mention of Suicide What is the weight of a body When depression is the anchor holding A boy from laughter ? It’s been two years now & a post on Facebook Reminds me of you—a girl ![]() i. verdigris festers on the cleft // mossy spiderwebs spiral from the orifice blood rusts the hook // iron corrodes the tarnished silver withered skin peels into fractals // drought disfigures my complexion ![]() Cloudy sunlight absorbs me. My soul. My thoughts melt into puddles on my pillow. Clothes curl in the corners of my room. ![]() I. You carried carrots, ‘poha’ and eggs in your tiffin everyday. Sometimes cucumbers, too. Your own friends would slice you into two with a butter knife right down the centre And sprinkle ‘chaat masala’ on you, {mocking you by saying that it was bad for you} ![]() The pitch was wet, the bat was slipping from your grip and the wickets would clash against each other every time you’d cry. You’re fighting despite the shooting pain in your left ankle, ![]() By the apartment complex next to mine, on the corner of the garden that meets the concrete stairs, there used to grow little orange flowers. They were small and delicate, with bright orange petals, with purple dots and golden pistils, and bundles of green leaves. I’d pick them every time I went outside and bring them back to my house. I’d place them in water cups and they’d wilt within the day. ![]() Was I...supposed to be happy? The cold numbed my fingers. Cotton muffled the noise of my jittering bones. “Nice to meet you.” There came my reserved whisper. I vaguely remembered muttering my name before giving a slight, instinctive bow and sitting on a comically familiar chair. ![]() Daytime, gleaming cars I wear a blouse and am afraid Of the doors. Their voices rise up To the chapel roof Colliding with the tinted glass. ![]() Trigger Warning: Mention of Death I sent you a text the night that your dog passed away under cloudy skies of navy-gray it was the first thing I said to you since your birthday three months ago when the sun still shone over crystal snow ![]() Do not look at me. That is how I feel every time people look too close. No, I’m not ashamed of my face or physique any more than the average American, but there's an additional curse I am bound with. It is a lifelong medical condition people still believe is made up. I am transgender. ![]() The paper was filled with foreign squares and lines. I recognized it as Korean, my mother tongue. As I stared, the words squiggled into snakes, slithered out onto the floor and bit me on my heel. I jolted awake, smothered in sweat. It had been a few days since I had started taking classes in Korea, and I was in a jam. ![]() {TW: suicide] every s that spills from your tongue reminds me of every moment that slipped from our grasp those dwindling days under endless stars, not as bright as the void in ours Stop Stop Stop it echoes in my eyes, on trembling lips, ![]() Trigger Warning: Implications of eating disorders three thousand layers but I'm a naked body puffer coat turned gossamer thin as grimy fingers abrade baked skin ![]() Trigger Warning: Sexual Assault They sat in the pavilion by the rugby fields with eyes fixed on each other, yet glancing sporadically towards the window through which they could see the rain falling in thick, opaque sheets and hitting the ground where the rain pooled and the mud roiled. Thin boys, the lot of them, swaddled in enormous blue and maroon shirts and clenching body and jaw to avoid the semblance of trembling. |
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Unless otherwise noted, all pictures used are open-source images in the public domain. Archives
November 2023
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