Share, Trust and Believe in Yourself

Author’s Note: In chapter 14 of All Quiet on the Western Front by Erich Remarque, there was a diction saturated description of the boys in the middle of a battle and it represented how they really didn’t know what they were getting themselves into when they started. No one had told them how gruesome the war would be, because the world had taught them that defending their country was the best thing you could do. I related this to teenage heartbreak. Because, as a really little kid, all your teachers say is to share, trust and believe in yourself, but what do you do when people lie, hurt and make you hate what you are? The connection was really how not everything is what it is made up to be.

Mimic Line: I feel the whirl of the vortex sucking me slowly, irresistibly, inescapably into itself.(55) 

Teenage love has always been stereotyped to: “I LOVE YOU SO MUCH EVEN THOUGH WE’VE BEEN DATING FOR A WEEK, IT’S BEEN A WHOLE WEEK,”. But, that’s generally only the sixth-to-eighth-grade stage, when everyone is crazy off hormones and changing personalities by the minute. But, what people forget is the true pain that comes on later. Once us little kids start to understand a thing or two, or we think we do at least.

Everyone is raised to: share, trust and believe in yourself. You shouldn’t talk to strangers, because you don’t know what they truly want from you. It seems that our kindergarten teachers forget to tell us when those golden rules expire. And that complete strangers aren’t the only people you can’t trust, and also really don’t know anything about. Why didn’t anyone tell us how hard it would be? Why didn’t anyone tell us about the truly evil people in the world? Instead of being taught to trust no one, we were trained to jump to everyone with open arms and hearts. Then, everyone ends up broken and seeks vengeance on the next person that tries to be in their life. I see the spin of the cycle pulling everyone leisurely, painfully, inevitably within it.

Every day there’s a new Facebook update of a freshly shattered heart. Everyone can see the pain in that person. Little girls who thought he was perfect and keep her safe, like she was taught she would be her whole life, are now left crying and hurting and losing faith in the world altogether. Those little girls break the hearts of little boys, and those little boys hurt more little girls. All innocence is being corrupted to younger and younger people. No one deserves to feel the pain of betrayal and lies, but our world sets us up for it.

Beauty is withering and hearts are crumbling. I miss pure happiness of my younger childhood, and when I see little kids around my neighborhood screaming and running from each other in joyful games, I can’t help but think of how they will be running and screaming from life not too long from now.

The Real Duality

Author's Note: Although Stevenson described the duality of man being two actual seperate beings, I respectfully disagree with that man is just one, but they precieve themselves differently to different groups of people.

She walks through the halls with confidence, caution, charmisticness and calamity. Her hair flows over one shoulder as it tangles on the other. The perk of her lips spoke a thousand words in a million languages. At one end, she spoke with words that could be preached; at the other they could butcher the hearts of whom she spoke them about. Some know her from the numbness of her soul, while she warms the day of some with her sweet smile. She could silence a room with increbile presence, or be the silence. Class to class, day to day, weekend to weekend. Her only constant was her changes. If she wasn't close, she was most certainly far. Only from a distance could you notice the distant personalities. If someone would notice, they would keep it to themselve; a person of many personalities is on of power. She branched out to the unwanted, adored and misunderstood. She knew everything about everyone, even though no one knew who she was. But that's how she loved it, the edge was hers. No one wants to be a loser, and-with the world on her side-how couldn't she be victorious? She knew the when to cry, or laugh, or ignore, or mumble. She had hundreds of personalities and they all worked with and against to balance out the perfection of her duality. She isn't alone, she is everyone and everyone has that she within. The desire to fit in and alter your ways to match. Lonliness kills, and strength lies within numbers; without similarity, you remain defenseless- no one to back you up. The difference within one balances and keeps the sanity together. Duality truly lies within one, but they change when other ones come into play.

Desperation

Author's Note: In the chapter Dr. Lanyon's Narrative, Henry Jeykll wrote Lanyon a letter begging him to help him with a task that he has no idea about, but is expected to follow his orders with no objection. Jekyll displayed huge amounts of desperation and this poem reflects on that desperation when one friend put all of their problems on the other no matter how much they try to save them from the pain. The friend wanting help needs the other and it puts guilt in the other, just like Jekyll did to Lanyon.

All you hear are begs and plees,
They're pressing to be free.
Hearts are open wide,
And they need to change your mind.
You know their past and they won't change,
Nothing can make their attitude rearrange.
But they cry to you, their desperate;
And you've been best friends, they force remembrance.
They twist your thoughts and leavig you with no choice;
You try to talk, but start to block out your voice.
Follow the orders, don't talk back,
Plans are set, time to cut the slack.
They've taken over, go through the motions,
You've been here before, you know the notions.
It all comes down on you,
This happens everytime, its not out of the blue.
She always does this,
It always starts with a bliss.
No matter how many times you tell her he's not right,
She fights you on it with all her might.
Then he breaks her down,
And all of her tears could make her drown.
But she desperate remember?
In her dark time you're her ember.
Best friends are there no matter what,
The feeling is always there in your gut.
Whether they yell and scream or fight,
Things will always be alright.

The Fog Motif

Author's Note: Fog has been a reoccuring theme in Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, and it directly relates to the secrets that Jekyll and Hyde hide. The Fog acts like a blanket, getting more and more dirt swept under it, eventually someone else is going to notice the lump that developed from lies and betrayls. This reflection demonstrats being in the midst of this inpure fog.

Piercing screams from quarrels in the night ruminate people of whether to go out blind and fight or to sit in the known. The fog masks the disreputable to go on and commit accursed crimes, but execute a great escape, surviving with no punishments. As a cape drives the confidence of the most powerful superheroes, the fallen clouds push sinister minds to sedulous felons. When clouds hover over the Earth in the heavens, purity and perfection dance within the fluff, but they sink deeper and deeper into the depths of hell, they turn into a blended mush that twists the souls that become corrupted to be disconsolate. As the fog thickens, eyesight impairs, all senses weaken, allowing inner savage crawl out. Impeccable craziness consumes as people feel them loosing themselves; and as an attempt to salvage what remains of them, they let their minds run free. They are callous and selfish; the unsunned world has no meaning to them anymore. As the sun disappears, the night brings insanity and hell in the form of thicken, fallen clouds; fog.

Monster Haiku

Author's Note: This is a reflection of the personalities so far displayed of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde.

Oh, Doctor Jekyll and Hyde

Hyde is the devil

To the Doctor Jekyll’s light

Hyde is easily hated

While Jekyll has love

They are complete opposites

Utterson reviewed the will

Bestowed within it

Jekyll had put the evil

Hyde was left with all the great

From Doctor Jekyll

When he would meet his dark fate

Utterson stared with much shock

And he searched for it

The undeserving monster

After a long and hard hunt

Sadly, there it was

Utterson had to be blunt

It seemed a murderous thing

Ghostly complextion

Leaving nausea and hate

Utterson found him

Merging in the door

Closing off the world, and more

Hyde had proved it he

He took Jekyll’s soul

Whoa is he, to Harry Jekyll

With the Satan’s signature,

All across his face

It seems that this is the start

To the end of one great man

And the start of a bad

Yet, only the time will tell

Response...

"don't, don't, don't bite your friends." --Yo Gabba Gabba

Her Beauty

Author's Note: This is the story about a young girl, Payton, struggling with bulimia. She has flashbacks of her past life and the boy who had cheated on her and broke her heart. The bulimia speaks and controls her life through a being Payton named Annie. Annie has made her hate everything in her life, including her family, body and self. Payton couldn't handle it anymore so she committed suicide.

Cold, lifeless, alone; she laid, suffocating in the tight closet; her sanctuary. The world couldn’t destroy her here; no one could take her passion and twist it into the self-hatred that has become the only emotion to corrupt her soul. She heard the outside world whisper a knock; Annie was back. The hush turned to an ugly gash; mentally crushing the only barrier between judgment and the haven. Each gash broke down the door; the crisp break of each splinter of oak splintered her heart, like small  pores oozing out the small love that had just rekindled within her. She blinked; water cleansed her cracking, dry eyes, clearing her vision; the door stood there, untouched.

The uneasy stirring of the air remained, pushing Payton out of the closet; shoving her into heavy layers of cotton, causing a sweat from simply standing. She ran. Each stride seemed more impossible than the next would be. Her weak legs couldn’t hold up the fat she saw and was disgusted at every time she glanced down; with that repulsion, she worked herself harder, she needed to be skinny, she needed to be skinny, she needed to be skinny. The thoughts replayed over and over and over again in her mind. The sole aspect she had ever focused on since last November had been her weight; pounds equaling tons, fat being her mortal enemy, leaving calories to represent Satan himself. Her food turned from halves, to quarters, to eighths, to crumbs in a matter of weeks. As the number dropped, she felt her self-esteem rise. This self-battle had been the only thing in her life that she could control anymore.

Payton blinked; once again the tears flooded in. Misery was washed away with her sobbing, bringing self-hate back with the arid wind against her eyes. Focus, focus; faster, faster; the demands repeated in her mind. She used her shaking, pale hand to wipe away the streams of hot water pouring from her eyes, and pushed forward. Payton wasn’t allowed to wallow in depression, Annie said so. Annie knew everything; she was the start of this entire beautiful transformation. Annie promised amazing things, beauty, friends, acceptance… she could do anything. Payton worshiped the bond Annie and her shared, it was the only way to get her life how it had been. As it was before it all back lashed at her. Before the hate and denial drowned her heart. Before he came. Before he left. Engulfed within the dark memories, in place she grew now simply an empty soul, without positive feeling, she came back to unimaginable levels of pain, like a reoccurring disease. That man had ripped her heart from her chest, it felt like he had butchered it out; vain by vain. The moment rushed back to her; the black of her eyes visualized him, and her. Her head spun as she relived the wave of chills while her face flushed with blood; not only from the shock, but the embarrassment that she thought this couldn’t of ever happened in their relationship. He had grown to be Payton’s entire life; Payton was blinded by the perfection she saw in him. There was no way he could’ve done something wrong; Payton had to be wrong, always. Payton gave him her trust, respect and heart; but that had all crumbled down when she caught them.  She was perfect; Payton knew she couldn’t compare. If she was prettier, smarter... skinnier, maybe he’d take her back. Him and her, it still hurt to even contemplate.

Payton blinked; she shook off the remorse and tears and pushed forward. Each step drilled her fragile bones into each other; the pain was both unbearable, but pleasing. Pain meant gain, Annie said so. The heaving of her chest made her lungs feel like they would burst. Even though each pant ached her brittle frame, she had to make it home; there was no stopping, Annie said so.

As she reentered her home, she stared at her family sitting together, committing gluttony with the table-full of food before then, she nearly gagged with revulsion. Her brother turned around to see her, starting to speak, but all she could see was the food in his mouth, getting chewed and swallowed like a savage beast. Payton shivered with chills of fear; this reminded her of the threats that food has. Payton remembered to continue working, she wasn’t done; Annie said so. Payton walked away from her family, without a word to them; she couldn’t bring herself to look at the grease-infested food that they indulged on.

She went back to her room. As Payton sat on the ground to work her abs, she caught herself staring at closet, dazing at her old free-will with regret, Annie said no, so Payton went back to her workout. She crunched her stomach together until the burn stopped her breathing, but she continued. Payton wanted to see how long she could go without air; the last thing that she needed to stop taking in. Inhaling pushed out her obese stomach; but she knew Annie would help her; Annie promised that one day, she’d stop the air, the breathing. That was the goal, really. That was the very last thing she needed to be beautiful. The pain became piercing and she gasped for air. It was better for her to put this pain on herself rather than trust someone with your whole heart and have it be shattered into a million pieces. Disgusted with herself, Payton did double than what she planned.

Drenched in sweat, Payton peeled off the soaking layers of clothes she had on. Just before she went into the shower, Payton stopped and examined what Annie called ‘progress’. The huge curves that used to circle her body had vanished; making her skin cling to her bones. But it wasn’t enough, Annie said so. All her bones needed to be seen; Annie called her fat, a waste, unappreciative... the names continued. This happened whenever Payton started to feel an accomplishment; she didn’t know the end of her progress and she was reminded of that by Annie. Every. Single. Day.

Payton blinked; immediately going to the shower to hide her tears. Payton’s boney fingers dug into her scalp; all of her thick, brown hair had been disappearing. Now it was breaking and thin, but Annie reassured her that it was beautiful. So Payton continued. When she washed her body, her trembling hand brushed over what her mind perceived as a bulging stomach. Payton instantly dropped down and threw up. The familiar, sharp sting of stomach acid came rushing through her mouth. Each time, her heart seized. It felt like the blood stopped pumping, as if the arties were slowly twisting closed. She continued until she stopped having sight. She knew that if she just stared off for a while it would come back, Annie said so. Payton gasped for air and, gradually, the image of her shower floor and red blood seeping from her mouth came back to her eyes. Payton sat back and lifted her boney hand to wipe off her mouth. Annie questioned why she was sitting, relaxing; Annie grew angry, bringing her the razor.

The razor took away the stress, all other worries. All focus was on the engraved slit in the arm. Payton knew this was right, Annie said so. The sharp blades pressed up against her skin, right below her elbow. Payton pressed hard, and dragged down. Time slowed, each second felt like minutes. Her head pounded, the giant thumps made it seem like her head was about to explode. Sounds were soft, turning into a low hum. All she could make out was her slow, muffled breaths. Payton’s eyes opened, the world was silent; her motions glided through the air like a mime’s. A piercing hiss only remained, there was no sound of talking, of water splashing; nothing. Payton squeezed her eyes closed, the razor must have been halfway down her arm by now, she couldn’t tell though; everything was numb.

Payton blinked. Her wrist was in pain, and, bringing her hand to it, she found slits unbearably deep.  She studied the tranquil reds sliding from the incisions into a endless spiral of darkness. The drain had sucked away more and more red from her. Payton looked up, saw the burning steam from the water of the shower, but felt cold; freezing. Her useless limbs were nearly impossible to move, it felt like sand had been forced into her veins rather than blood…The blood.

Payton’s eyes shot down; her arm was coated with the chilled blood. Tears dripped down, forcing a part of the blood, exposing her drained, white skin. As her sobbing grew, the pale began to blend with the red creating a masterpiece of interlacing colors. “This is so beautiful,” Annie told her, so Payton knew she had done it. It was over; the painful journey had finally come to an end. Annie told her that her work had paid off; she didn’t need air or food or water or anything at all anymore. The progress was over.

Payton blinked for the last time, staring at the work done and closed her eyes softly with a smirk of accomplishment on her chapped, white lips. She whispered, “I won,” And there Payton laid in her sanctuary suffocating, cold, lifeless, alone.

Bulimia and anorexia cause over 1000 deaths each year, leading with heart and other vital organ failure, and suicide. The developments of these diseases are often with other mental disorders; commonly depression and anxiety. These eating disorders are frequently abbreviated to ‘Annie’, due to the disorder acting as its own being, first taking control of eating patterns then the mind entirely. The longer a victim has an eating disorder, the less chance for recovery and survival. Treatment for both bulimia and anorexia has been proven to be extremely effective, but without it, the aftermath is fatal.