I Am A Survivor--Savannah

My name is Savannah Vanessa Diaz. I am 18 years old. For 13 1/2 years of my life I was enduring trauma in every aspect you can think of. I am a survivor and this is my story.

From the moment I was able to crawl until I hit puberty, I was sexually abused and molested. I was enduring physical and emotional abuse. I was beaten until I could no longer move, I was yelled at until I became mute, I was “disciplined” until I was living in fear, and I was neglected until I lost an excessive amount of weight much too quickly. It was to the point where child protective services and the police got involved. My siblings & I would have to watch my mom be physically and mentally abused by someone who I do not call father nor dad. He left us with nothing and we were sleeping on the floor of someone’s garage with nothing to eat but cup of noodles and some crackers if we were lucky. We went from house to house and had to walk everywhere. I grew up at daycares, baby sitters, friend’s houses, anywhere I could be because we didn’t have a real place to call home. You see, a father is someone who helped conceive you however, in my opinion a dad is somebody who took care of you, helped you, and loved you. Someone who played catch with you or let you dress them up as a princess or ballerina, chuckled, and went along with it. It is a title that is earned, not given. When he left I blamed myself and asked myself why he didn’t love me and my family enough to stay. What I lacked

was self love. Self worth. I realized that in order to truly be happy and know love, I had to love myself first.
I was taught that love was fear. Abuse was okay and abuse was a way to show “love”. “I do it out of love”, he said. I blamed myself my entire life and I lived in fear with everything. From Child Protective Services, court cases, trials, therapy sessions, police pulling me out of school, police showing up at our doorstep, welfare offices, questioning, and so much more, I learned from a young age how to be strong. This is my story, but this is not who I am. I am a survivor.
When I was 14 years old, I was raped. I became numb to everything and lived in fear. I was traumatized even more and became depressed, angry, and lost. I was scared of everything and everyone. Therapy had helped me cope but it wasn’t until I completely turned my life to God and opened up did I completely heal. I let go and let God. I felt as though God had left me and made me endure everything bad in my life. It wasn’t until I hit a breaking point. One day I read a story entitled “Footprints in the Sand”. It speaks of this weary man who has endured so much and has felt that God deserted him when he needed Him most. The very last lines say:
“The LORD replied:
‘My son, My precious child, I love you and I would never leave you, During your times of trial and suffering,
when you see only one set of footprints, it was then that I carried you.".

After reading this it made so much sense. I had read this at the exact time that I needed to hear it most. This is my story, but this is not who I am. I am a survivor.
When I was a sophomore in high school I began feeling lightheaded, weak, my body would randomly become in pain, and my body would go numb and I began blacking out. The pain continued only it worsened. I dealt with that for years only the issues escalated. Today, I continue to deal with those issues only they have worsened and more issues have occurred. I was diagnosed with Lupus, an autoimmune disease in which your body attacks itself, arthritis, anemia, and I recently came back positive for liver disease. I have practically lived at the hospital for a few years now. From appointments, check ups, blood work, to ER visits, my body continues to deteriorate. My tissues, muscles, and bones are slowly deteriorating and giving out on me. I have no control over it except to let go and let God. My organs are giving out on me and if I do not get a transplant I will not be around for very long. I still see the light in everything that I do. I still see God in everything and everywhere that I go. I try my best to smile through the physical, emotional, and mental trauma. I know that pain is temporary and everything will turn out to be just how it is meant to be. I have gotten through so much and I know that God will continue to bring me through this battle of mine again. This is my story, but this is not who I am. I am a survivor.
I am a survivor of life’s toughest trials. I am a survivor of my own demons. I am strong. I am beautiful. I am valuable. I am me. No one can ever take that piece of mind away from me. I am a survivor.

The Life of Jay Critch--Raaghav

Its 1990, in Brooklyn, New York. Shana Critchworth is rushed to the hospital as she has gone

into labor. After 5 hours of pain and agony, a young Jamal Critchworth is born. From that moment Shana knew he was special. Years pass by and Jamal grows. He did well in school but there were a lot of distractions surrounding him. Around his home and community, the aroma of violence, drugs, and criminal acts were filled. Jamal was a good kid, but got mixed with the wrong crowd at a young age. Once he got into middle school, his grades started dropping, he started ditching school, and started getting in trouble with the law. A couple years pass by and his mother realizes that she cannot have her child involved in these acts. She knew he was special and had great potential. She sat him down and talked to him about his future and how he is a gifted individual. Jamal thought nothing of it, until a year later he got involved in a big drug deal involving his gang, the Drips and another gang. In the middle of the deal, gun fire came running down and Jamal got shot in the chest. He was rushed to the hospital. The doctors said that he came just in time, if he was a minute late, he would have died. After that incident Jamal knew that he had to turn his life around. Jamal turned to music. He used it as an outlet, to get away from everything. Instead of being out on the streets, he would go to his room to write bars, or going to the studio to record. Jamal became known as his stage name Jay Critch “Hood Fav”. After 2 years of grinding and producing multiple projects, Jay Critch made it big with his first hit “Did it again”. As the song became bigger and bigger, Critch caught the attention of big record labels. At the young age of 19, Jay Critch signed to the label “Rich Forever Music”, with CEO

Rich The Kid. Jamal Critchworth, a young boy from Brooklyn, New York, Started from nothing, and grinded his way to the top, and made “Jay Critch” a household name.

Misconceptions--Fatima

When I was seven or eight, I came downstairs one night and saw my sister crying in my parents’ room. I was young and unobservant, so I didn’t know much about the situation at the time. I later learned that my smart, independent, strong older sister had let her guard down and trusted people to be her friends who later ridiculed and made racist jokes about her ethnicity and religion. Although it was not necessarily directed at her, they claimed that people like her are terrorists. They claimed they are uncivilized and violent. This moment destroyed her and it permanently changed how she viewed people.

            I was too naive to understand the delicacy of the situation. I was young, and at school other young kids weren’t nearly as mean as high schoolers or adults (in regards to cutting remarks and offensive language).  I’ve grown a lot since then; I keep up with the news and I read people’s comments online - although I strongly recommend against that unless you enjoy being irrationally angry. I understand how society views people like me. White people who commit mass murders are labeled mentally ill. Arab and South Asian people who do the same are labeled as radicalized terrorists. Pigs blood is smeared on the walls of a mosque, or a Sikh man is killed in cold blood by ignorant people who think all brown people are the same, but that hardly receives as much outrage as a Muslim man running for Congress. The people of Palestine are being killed and tear gassed for nonviolently protesting the apartheid and colonialization of their land, but because the people being oppressed and killed are not white Europeans and are not all Christian, that will never be covered on CNN or in the New York Times. In fact, Palestine isn’t even on most world maps at all anymore.

            Because of what they see in the news, about once every other month or so my parents ask me something along the lines of, “Has anyone said anything [racist] to you before?” I usually reply with something along the lines of, “No, not that I can think of.” For the most part, I am right. I have the privilege of looking Caucasian, so no one would even think to say anything to me unless they got to know me first. However, a few instances do sometimes come to mind. I remember a friend, whom I admired and whose company I enjoyed, maliciously calling me a terrorist and then shrugging it off as a joke. I think of the dumb kids involved in some of the extracurricular activities that I love who think it’s funny to shout a bastardization of an Arabic phrase, because it’s supposedly what “the terrorists” say before they blow something up.

            Although these instances offend me, I find the courage to stay calm. I find the courage to try and educate people. I find the courage to treat people kindly and show them that I am a Muslim and an Arab, but I am also understanding, and patient, and constantly debunking stereotypes. No matter how cheesy this may end up sounding, I think of my sister, and I find the courage to stay strong and fight for change in order to prevent the cycle from continuing.

What is Christianity?--Lizzie

Religion means the belief in and worship of a superhuman controlling power, especially a personal God or Gods. Each person's definition of religion is different. I lot of people say that religion gives people something to believe in, a hope for a better tomorrow. At least that’s what they say it supposed to be. If you look into the religion of christianity they believe God is supposed to be something or someone that loves everyone. Christians are supposed to be people who believe in God and they follow the teachings of the Bible. Christianity is a religion. If the teachings explain that you need to love God and love others and that is the religion then why don’t they. Sex before marriage, having a child out of wedlock, divorce, all these actions are shameful according to the christian religion. Christians are known for Shaming people for the mistakes they have made. We miss interpret what the Bible says, but Christianity is our religion. The church is supposed to be a place where people come together broken it’s where you can go when you feel lost but now the church is a place where people go and show off how great they are at being Christians. Instead of it being a place where people confess their sins and ask for help and forgiveness it’s a place where people compete for who can be the best. this is not what Christianity is. When you look back in the Bible the people who Jesus hangs out with the most are the “sinners “ and the people that are trying to crucify him, who say that he is a liar are the ones that call themselves religious. He never condemned those who sinned or judged those who were seen as disgraceful. Jesus loves everyone and if you see that Christianity is your religion then why don’t you do like Jesus does and love people from who they are and pray for who they will be. I am a Christian and I call it my faith. Although it may seem that I have a problem with religion specifically Christianity I don’t I just want it to actually be what it’s supposed to be. It should be something that people put their faith in, their trust in ,something that they live their life by and if you choose to live your life to compete with other people, trying to be a better person than they are, what are you really accomplishing? If it is supposed to be what I think it supposed to be. Religion is your belief, I specified Christianity because it something that I've lived through and I’ve seen and I have experienced. I’m not saying this is for all religion. I do you believe there is a reason why there’s such a negative stereotype when it comes to Christians and a lot of it has to do with the way we portray or religion. Religion should be something positive it should be something that people are interested in and not something that people are afraid of or disapproving of.

Deja Two--Jon-Vincent

That familiar clock ringing like no tomorrow. “I swear I only hit snooze once...”, its 12:30 PM.
“Yikes, I’m late for school.” I should be in lunch right about now. Getting into my car, I quickly fumble my keys into the ignition and as I turn the key my music starts to play. The music jolts my memory and I remember something. The idea that I was late at this exact moment with this exact song was eerily familiar.
I brush it aside, clinging to the object tied around my neck.
I parked in the back lot and quickly ran to the campus I’ve come to call home my past 4 years. Upon arrival, a security guard stops me. “Hey man, I know you didn’t just come to school this late, thinking we wouldn’t notice.” To which I replied, “Yeah, just trying to make it through these last few days of school.” The guard understands and I go to the office for my late slip.
I grudgingly go through my fifth period and start lazily walking to sixth.
In my first three years of high school, I struggled adjusting to the life. My very vivid dreams had me discovering keys and unlocking things with them. It was honestly something out of a fantasy but I guess the truth is that these keys wouldn’t unlock a gate out of school as I’d hoped. Instead, it would open me up to new experiences in life, in high school at least.
Each key had helped me through my transition into high school, each key except the first. One showed me not to be so hard on myself, another to trust in myself and in others. Every key gave me a perspective or taught me a lesson, except the first.
The thing is, the first key that appeared in my dreams was given to me by my grandpa as a present for entering high school. Not really having a use for it, I tossed it into my dresser. Upon having a series of key related dreams I quickly wrapped it around myself as a necklace, keeping it as my special thing.
I feel my body suddenly jerk to the side. “Wake up dude, how do you fall asleep during graduation” laughing as I take in my surroundings. Grabbing my chest, the key I once held dear is missing.
It’s September now, the friends I’ve held dear now off to their own devices, their own colleges far from one another. Not only am I anxious, but I am intensely afraid of what’s to come. I sleep it off.
Ring ring ring. The alarm clock and the doorbell ring simultaneously. I hit the alarm and I’m greeted at the door by my grandpa. “Your first day of college today huh? I remember that excitement” Handing me a box, he says “hold onto this.”

My first day on this unfamiliar campus, I walk into class and pull out a pencil, and the key that I’ve held onto for four years falls out the same pocket. I go to sleep that night, happy and looking forward to my dreams.

And So I Lie Here...--Brendan

There we stood shoulder to shoulder on that cool summer day, amongst the rolling grassy hills, amongst the tall swaying grass, amongst the hypnotic dance of the poppy flowers that lay about. O how the cool wind blew against our crimson blue uniforms, with our nation's flag flowing so elegantly with the accompanying wind. How the sun shown on us that day, how it glistened on our glorious flag, exemplifying the beauty of our nations flag and very country. Made one glad to be a fellow countrymen of this joyous land. How the birds sang their siren songs overhead, but there we stood shoulder to shoulder. With our coal black boots against the swaying green grass, how they pushed against our uniforms, as if begging us to stay. There we stood shoulder to shoulder. All was calm all was nice. Eventually the symphony came to a close, the cool wind refused to blow, the poppies paused their harmonic dance, the grass stopped their cheerful swaying along with their delicate touch, and the birds over head retreated away along with their charming songs. All was quiet. Eventually the order was barked to fix bayonets, clunky and speedy clickings were soon followed along with the stumbling of hands. But how the silver razors glistened in the sun over head, as if halos hovering above. There we stood shoulder to shoulder with glistening halos overhead. All was quiet once again... the banshee screech of a whistle broke the silence, and without hesitation we all dashed forward. O how we charged across that field, as if a raging river, O you should have seen us that day. The pounding of feet and glorious yell of men soon engulfed the field, what a glorious sight it was. Each step we took we came closer and closer to a hill...yes a hill...but this hill was... dark... the sun refused to touch this lone piece of Earth that we slowly advanced towards. The thick daunting twisting trunks of trees concealed the hill... Closer and closer we came to this hill, each step was just another meter towards this hill. Then, suddenly, the bone chilling popping of machine gun fire filled the air. Soon I could just hear myself, no glorious yell of my countrymen around me, no pounding of boots of thousands, no..just me, just the pounding of my feet against the grassy hill, just the fast pace beat of my breathing. It was just me, It was just me alone charging towards this hill, It was just m.............................................................
And so I lie here against the swaying grass. The glorious yell of men are now defaning screams. I look about only to see the torn remains of what were once my fellow countrymen...my friends. I see my beautiful flag riddled with holes and tears, lying lifelessly on the ground...just like myself. I feel...a pain...I reach over to feel the left half of my chest only to be welcomed with the warm crimson red sign of death and a hole straight through...straight through the heart. This pain is different, it is not in one area but all around me, throughout my whole body. How it sinks to my very core! I scream but no shout is heard. The tears start to stream down my face....I lost...I failed. I desperately turn to my left and right hoping someone is with me, but there is no one, just the violent mournful dance of the poppies. And so I lie here, And so I lie he....................................................................................

Goodbyes--Peyton

The pain of loss is one I have yet to overcome. Temporary separation is manageable, even your death would be easier to deal with. The vision of you leaving stains my memories. Out the door, down the street, never to to return. Life was like rainbows and butterflies, which quickly turned to gloom and vultures, ready to feast on all the happy memories I had, ruining them for years to come. I never truly realized how much I hate goodbyes until you were gone. You’re no longer in sight yet always in mind. I hate that feeling, everyone knows the one. It is all a bliss and blur of smiles until their hand is no longer in yours and the loneliness slowly takes its shape. I used to think that goodbyes were just a preamble for the upcoming hello, until you left. Hours feel like days and with each one comes new faces but the only one I wish to see is yours. The vision of your face is always tucked in the back of my mind and I can hear your voice telling me to “rock this out” the way you have told me to millions of times before. I can feel your energy and every so often I smile at the thought of you making me dinner with the wrong recipes like you always do. You were here. You were with me. You told me you  were proud of me then kissed my forehead and sent off, glancing behind you to catch a last glimpse, I can still feel your stares. Why didn’t I just turn around, run to you, and ride off into the sunset like I should have? I just stood there, eyes forward, my mind blank. You told me you love, and I love you still, as I always will. You always told me you loved me every day since the beginning. But now it’s been months and I haven’t even received a hello. I just can’t shake this sick feeling, I pray those feelings will someday change. You say they never will but I am thousands of miles away and our minds are constantly playing tricks on us. What if your affection for me is a trick and the distance between us will be the big reveal, the time where you learn more about yourself than I will on my adventure? You didn’t want to leave. You asked me to go with you, explore the city, then come back so the goodbye would’ve followed after a day of memories. But I couldn’t, so you respected that and left. I continued on not aware of the pain you’d leave me with. But is it really your fault? Or am I torturing myself reminiscing of your presence? The best part was that you are always so respectful towards me. You never let me get angry, you always know how to bring the light into the world. The constant hugs and compassion, nothing can replace the feeling. Your voice is my paradise, with every word you say I fall deeper and deeper under your spell. You’re soul is addictive, but now that I am without you I can only think about being with you. I am free but I don’t want to be. I want to go back to you saying goodbye. I want to rewind to the moment your eyes shined while staring into mine, when you told me you love me, when you told me you were proud of me, when you told me to “rock it out,” I want to go back and never let you leave. I want to go with you around the city and get the goodbye I now dream of. I am stuck thinking about you flying home, spending every day in routine, going through the motions without me by your side. I am here but you are there. My heart will never change as it never has, but the mind is clay, being reshaped and molded. I hope you stay strong, and I’ll try my best to be strong as well. This parting was difficult but it helped me grow. I’m not the kid you met, I’m the woman you’ll never know.  But you are always with me as I am with you and I will count down the days until I am in your arms again.