The "Friends" Who Stole Christmas by Lamar Caldwell
It’s the last day of school before Christmas break. It’s Friday to start the weekend of the break. I always host these big Christmas parties to start the break off with a bang. It gives me, my friends and whoever else comes a break from school and stress and where we could all just have fun and take our minds off of things. We usually have lots of food and drinks and snacks and we play games for prizes. Some people bring Christmas cards and gifts for others. When the bell rang I went to gather with my friends Travis, Jarad, Bryson, and Tyler. Jarad gives me a high five. “Dexter, what time are we going to start setting up for the party?” Jarad asked. I look at my phone and look back up at Jarad.“I’m gonna go get a haircut right now, I’ll text you when I’m ready.” I drove to the barbershop to get a quick haircut before we started setting up for the party. I start driving back to my neighborhood. When I got to my house me and all my friends set everything up and people started coming in around 7:30. It's a Christmas-themed party and everybody wore Christmas pajamas. The house is now filled with people from our school and people from other schools. “Wow,” Bryson says. “This is our last party before we go off to college.” Bryson is kind of my closest friend in my friend group. I knew him the longest because I used to live back in his neighborhood with my grandma for a few years because my parents lived in Jamaica, but when they moved back here we moved to a better neighborhood and came to a better school for me. Bryson was getting into some trouble back at the school he was at so he convinced his parents to come to Preston High but they had to save up because the tuition is really expensive. I was at the table with my friends and a few others and we were playing uno. “Man, you have a lot of gifts,” Bryson tells me “My parents never get me any gifts for Christmas ever. You're so lucky.” “Haha that's crazy,” Travis chimes in. "I never heard of anyone who doesn't get any gifts on Christmas.” Everyone at the table starts laughing. “Haha, well maybe I should take all of Dexter's gifts, he has too much anyway.” Bryson jokes… well I hope he’s joking. Everyone at the table laughs but me. “Haha good idea.” Travis chimes in. Yeah, I'm gonna go, I thought to myself. There are different groups of friends doing their own thing. All my friends had scattered off somewhere. I went into the kitchen and saw Angela, one of my friends from science class. She was my partner once in a project. She claims her family does voodoo and they can do all sorts of magic like turn people invisible. I sorta think it's weird but she's cool I guess. We start to chop it up. “Hey nice party!” she yelled through all the noise. “Thanks, glad you're having fun,'' I responded. “Why aren’t you hanging out with your friends?” she asked. I explained to her I was kind of feeling iffy about them based on our conversation earlier when they were joking about stealing my presents. Speaking of my presents I turned around to check on my presents and noticed that some were actually missing. I turn to her and tell her. I was thinking no way they’d actually steal my gifts. I had a lot and I noticed most of them were gone. I kept telling myself that this has to be a prank. I kept my gifts out in the first place because I trusted that nobody would try to take them or anything Angela tells me to try this drink her aunt made. I didn't want to at first. She told me it was one of her drinks that made you invisible. She told me to drink it and spy on who was taking my presents. Maybe after all my friends didn't do it, it could’ve been someone else. She said I'm the only person she’s giving this drink to at the party. I drank it and sure enough I turned invisible. I told her thanks. Now it’s time to see who's stealing my gifts.
I go near my Christmas tree and stand there. It’s only a few gifts left. I see Jarad and Travis sneaking up to the tree and looking out to see if anyone's watching. They both come to the tree to take the last of the gifts. They then look upstairs and say, “Coast is clear.” I see Bryson coming from my room with my TV! And Tyler behind him with a bag full of something and they're ducking so no one see’s them. No one is even paying attention to them really. Wow, I thought to myself. They must’ve plotted this on me. To think we’ve all been so close for years and they do this! I go back to tell Angela what I saw. She was shocked. I asked her how to get rid of my invisibility. She said I have to get in the shower and and run the water on me for 5 minutes. I went to go do that. I checked my room after and literally most of my belongings were gone. They took some shoes and clothes and my TV. When I came out of my room I was going to confront them but the 5 of them came rushing towards me. They were acting like they were panicking and told me someone else from the party stole my stuff and they said they tried to stop him but they couldn’t. I can’t believe they lied like that. I told them I knew it was them and had Angela back me up. I kicked them out of my house and canceled the party. I learned my lesson not to trust people and think they are genuinely your friend. Maybe they were jealous and just using me for the nice things that I do for them like this party.
Turning Pointe by Mariel Gousios
There’s a point in everyone’s life where they start to outgrow the shell placed on them from the pressure and expectations of others. It prevents you from being authentic, and in most cases, happy. Sometimes this happens relatively early, in people naturally confident and outgoing. Some people take longer, and some are still approaching that moment. The environment you are in can change everything. If you're somewhere that you feel helps and encourages you, you reach the realization earlier. If you’re held back and made to feel worse than others, it’s going to take longer. The defining moment that contributed to the “shedding of my shell” happened in one of the places I spent the most time growing up, my dance studio. Although I didn’t always love it, I grew to appreciate it even with its problems. At the beginning of middle school, I joined as a shy, reserved 11-year-old kid who struggled with self-esteem. It seemed everyone else at the studio had been there since they were little while I was just joining now. I was an alien, walking around a swarm of humans, trying not to be discovered. It’s easier to infiltrate an area as an outsider if there are many of them, so you go unnoticed most of the time. When you intervene with a group of people who are close-knit, it’s apparent that you don’t belong. They had been friends for years, unfortunately. I was at an obvious disadvantage to everyone else and spent a lot of time there struggling to catch up. The competitive and sometimes toxic nature of ballet was suffocating and confirmed my negative feeling towards myself. Although some people’s preconceived notions about ballet are exaggerated, most of them hold some truth. If you spend a long enough time, you’ll meet teachers who fit every expectation of being strict, rude, fat-shaming, you name it. Additionally, it’s so blatantly corrupt how directors favor people based on seniority and money instead of merit. Lead roles would go to the girls whose parents gave the most money to the studio, no matter how much better someone else was. It felt pointless to audition because the same people would get the best parts every year. Having teachers constantly treat me worse because I had joined later, or started at a different level, made my insecurities worse. If I was trying just as much as everyone else and improving more, shouldn’t I be treated that way? After my first year there, I had accepted that I couldn’t escape it. I became complacent and chose to stop fighting or running away from something I couldn’t change. If it weren’t for one ballet teacher who went against all of my past experiences, I would’ve continued that way as an unconfident, self-conscious kid. He went by Sasha, with no title in front of his name as if he wanted to seem familiar to all of the students. He’d moved to the U.S. when he became a part of Boston Ballet, initially living in Russia. The first class with him was like nothing else I had experienced before. A smell of smoke filled the air as he began to teach, thoroughly explaining things in ways that instantly clicked. Even if I had struggled with something before, it was so much easier when he explained it. He had a teaching style that made every class relaxed while still teaching with such passion that inspired anyone present. He instructed one of my first classes on pointe, where we’d dance in what is essentially a wooden box on the top of my feet. When you first start dancing on pointe, teachers instruct you slowly, trying to avoid injury by pushing students too far. Sasha didn’t do this. He moved us to where he seemed fit, having us do things weeks earlier than other teachers would have. In retrospect, someone could have easily found this reckless, but it brought excitement to every class, bringing back an adoration for dance that I had lost. I started having what I like to call a healthy fear. Before, I never would’ve believed I could do the stuff he was teaching us. I would’ve been dreading the class, counting the minutes until it was over. Instead, I was pushed by the fear I had because I was told that I could do it even if I didn’t think I could. It was then that he came up to me and said something, in his classic Russian accent, that I was never quite able to get out of my head. “Do you think you’re the best in this class?” he asked “What? No, I don’t. I… I think I’m the worst,” I said with shakiness in my voice and fumbling hands. I was worried that he mistook me as arrogant or full of myself, which couldn’t have been farther from the truth. “Do you think you’re better than everyone else in this class?” he asked again. However, this time, he didn’t wait for a response. “Get up on your shoes, and stay there. I want to take a picture.” I did as he said, trying my best to push my feet over my “box,” which is what the tip of the pointe shoe is called. He pointed his phone at my shoes and took a picture. When he showed it to me, my cheeks were red. I could think of numerous things wrong with the picture: my feet weren’t pointed enough, my arch looked flat, and I wasn’t over my box. Looking back, these things were all common in someone who had just started dancing on pointe, but when he singled me out, I felt as if it made me significantly worse than everyone else. “Despite all of this,” he said, “I’m going to make you the best dancer here. One day you’ll start spinning, and you won’t stop.”
disappear by Angelina Hu
[ A cold gust billows Rhodey’s black cardigan against his side. He tucks it tighter around himself, tucks his knees to his chest and wraps his arms around them. The beach is desolate, grey; as expected on a windy, late November day. The thick blanket of colorless clouds suffocate the sky, and a strip of white light strikes the horizon against the dark, rioting waves. The call of seagulls echo in the background. Rhodey envelops his coiled body with the cardigan, his hazel hair mussed and tumbling over his forehead. At his side, Lark stares out at the ocean, and the wind blows strands of her dirty-blonde hair out of its ponytail. Her warmer, grey hoodie protects her from the chill. ]
Do you remember... the beginning of freshman year? (Lark turns to him. His face is still buried in his knees.) Do you remember what I was like? I remember what you were like, at least. (He turns his head and looks up at Lark. She silently stares back.) You approached me first, and it was all downhill from there. Ha… guess I was fortunate, huh? I don’t think you would do something like that now. Sometimes, you don’t even reply to your own classmates if they try to chat you up. (He looks away again, stares out over the waves.) People change so quickly… whether it be me, or you. We’re the same in that way, aren’t we? Opposites, almost. Something in you died, and something in me was dragged to life. (He sighs.)Freshman year... Everything changed, then. Did you notice... the change? (Turns to Lark again.) Did you notice the way I suddenly started taking an interest in things that used to bore me, things that used to repulse me? Like... the sports games, and the drugs, and the whole ignoring-you-thing. (Pause; he looks away.) I... never apologized for that, did I? I’m sorry. (Another stiff pause.)Mmh... Maybe you already guessed, if you ever bothered to think about me that much, but it was my parents. They told me when I mentioned I’d made a new friend-- a girl-- that I was being too feminine, straying too far from that future-businessman type. (Pause.) So I tried to be more like the other guys at our school and did the things they liked to do. I did pretty well, didn’t I? I fit right in. But when my parents found out, they told me I was just acting out all over again, and told me to quit it. So I did, I went back to you, and other things that I actually liked, like the cooking club. And yet, here I am, being told I failed again. (Another sigh, yet another pause. Rhodey lays his head on his arms.)The other day, after the school called home about the fire at the club… they-- my parents, I mean-- were... predictably furious. They never did like me learning how to cook. Said it was a women’s chore, not something fit of a businessman. (Pause.) They… they told me I was a failure, that I was… a disappointment. They wished they had a son who was actually a man, some businessman-type guy. (A heavy pause; it hangs over the two’s heads like a cloud of smoke. Lark doesn’t know what to say, instead falling into silence; Rhodey struggles to figure out what to do next.) I wonder… Are they right? (Pause. He glances at Lark; she frowns, concerned, pity shining in those lifeless eyes. He stares at her hands instead; her gaze is too much to hold.)They must be, I think… I can’t do math, can’t do business, can’t do economics, and you know I hate academics in general. What else is there left for a businessman to do? (A hollow laugh, mirthlessly condescending, escapes Rhodey’s lips. He stares out over the ocean once more.)Might as well give up, huh? I’ve failed. I’ve failed my family, haven’t I? They’re right. I am a failure of a son, of a businessman. After all… the least a “good kid” can do is fulfil the wishes of his parents. (He takes in a shuddering breath.)And I… All I’ve ever brought them is disappointment. I can’t ever repay them, can’t ever satisfy them, can’t ever do anything. What’s the point, now..? Anything I ever do will always fail. No matter how hard I try… (His breath catches in his throat, shuddering.) No matter… how hard I try…I’ll always just fail, won’t I?! (And now, he snaps around to Lark, and her surprised stare bores into his teary eyes; irises of chestnut-brown, once as bright as sun-dappled wood, are now wide with anguish, with fear. Diamond droplets glitter as they cascade down his skin, catching what little light exists in this grey world.) No matter what I do, no matter how hard I try, it doesn’t matter! It doesn’t matter if even my best will never make anyone happy, so I should just give up, shouldn’t I?! If all I’m good for is disappointing everyone, then I… I… (He bites back tears; he looks more angry, angry at himself, than anything.) I might as well just disappear! Nobody will care, right?! Even now… Even now, I feel like I’m just talking to a wall, talking to you! (Silence; he watches Lark’s eyes widen. It’s true; she hasn’t shown any sign of clear emotion to his words thus far. His own expression slacks and his voice hushes, breaking from the tears.)You’re… just like me, aren’t you? You, too… You just want to diesometimes, too, right? (Lark stares, lips parted ever so slightly, taken aback by his words. Rhodey looks away, buries himself in his cardigan, allows the tears to fall. Heartbeats of silence pass between the two, filled only by the wind. But, just like the first time, Lark reaches out. Rhodey feels her arms around him, her head against his shoulder and hair, her warmth seeping through the frost that had settled over his body. It’s a nice kind of warmth. He leans into her, lets the tears fall until they’ve dried themselves out, and Lark doesn’t move, merely stroking his back in quiet consolation.) (Once his tears have died, Rhodey reaches out and quietly reciprocates the embrace, arms over her back. He feels Lark stiffen under his touch, before slowly relaxing.) Thank you. (His voice is muffled against her chest.)Even if I hurt you... you always welcome me back with a hug. I’m… sorry. I wish I could be more like you. (A pause. Lark doesn’t reply.) You’re my family, Lark. You’re like… a sister to me. My big sister, even if I’m older than you. (Another pause. She seems to be letting the words sink in.) Maybe, as long as you’re here… I’ll always have something to live for. So… will you let me repay the favor? (He pulls back, and Lark’s arms fall from his sides. He meets her gaze, and eyes devoid of any color meet tearful, gemstone carvings.) (He smiles.) I’ll make sure you won’t disappear, Lark. It’s a promise.
Mirrored by Alexander Liu
In the midst of war, the narrator was deployed to the west front of Toza in 1910. Peeking out of the blood covered grass and feeling lost in all the bloodshed, he discusses the war with an enemy soldier. They both share the emotion of sadness and bond over it and are confused why the fighting is necessary. This moment of peace is quickly engrained in history.
The narrator takes off his rifle and lays it in the grass.
I just can’t deal with this anymore. The constant noise of gunshots. The constant noise of artillery. The constant state of hunger. The constant mud in the trenches and the constant rain from the sky. Everyday, we mindlessly do the same thing, over and over again. We wake up to the same bell. We put on the same clothes. We eat the same food. And we go to the same fight — to point at each other and fire. Have you ever reflected on why we do these things? Or what purpose it achieves?
The narrator starts pointing aggressively at the body on the ground.
You're mindlessly running around with burning hatred. A monkey with no direction. Look at all the others just like you, frozen, just like you. Do you ever stop to think that this calamity happens on your watch, under your leadership. Does your lifeless state forgive all the sins you’ve committed? (pause) The narrator calms down. No longer pointing at the enemy, he slowly takes a seat next to him and his pants slowly get soaked with blood. That we will never know, however I can no longer be mad at you, for I am guilty of the same crime.
It’s strange how, despite our differences, we are strangely similar. (Pauses to attempt to make eye contact with the body) We both had families that cared for us. We both had friends that charged alongside us. We both had a lost passion. I just don’t understand. (Looks down in disappointment/despair) Why do we charge at each other every day? Why do we have to gun each other down everyday? Why is your life lost at my hands? (Questions asked aggressively and the response is passive) I didn’t want this to happen. I didn’t want to hurt your family.
We could put our differences aside, but that would be betraying our brethren. We could stop fighting for the sake of life, but that would revert all our previous work. We fight without reason, however reason is only in the eye of the beholder. We could end something that should have never started. A true tragedy that I shall start to correct.
Sometimes I dream about being like you, or many others like you. You lay so peacefully on the roughened dirt. The lifeless color of your skin and the motionless body among the action. Today, I shall do my part. I shall join you, not through the hands of the enemy, but through my own.
I shall see you soon, my friend. The narrator picks up his gun and loads it. Without hesitation, he points it to himself and fires. His body slowly lumps over next to the other dead body.
The Taller Twin by Helena Roth
I was supposed to be four foot six for the rest of my life. I am currently five foot three at 17, and even though I am done growing now, I am really thankful for how I got here. I was always smaller than my twin sister, Alexis. We were five weeks premature and had to stay in the hospital for a week or two after birth. My mom likes to joke, “You were so small I could wrap my hand around your heads and touch both eyes with my thumb and pointer finger.” We were her miracle babies. My mother was told that there was a zero percent chance that she could have children on her own. When her and my dad decided they wanted children, they knew they had limited options. After a few failed attempts, they decided to try Invitro fertilization. This procedure takes the eggs out of the woman and fertilizes them in a petri dish in a lab. Once they grow enough, 2-3 of the healthiest ones are picked and placed back into the woman. It costs around $45,000. It came as a big surprise two years after she had us she found out she was pregnant with my little brother. “I was so sick I thought I was dying but I was actually two months pregnant,” my mom says. I am very grateful for my mom, but because of her own health issues, it caused some for us too. I couldn’t keep my own body heat in so I had to stay a week more in the NICU than my sister. That is one of the longest times we’ve ever spent apart. I can’t imagine how hard it was for my mom to leave the hospital with only one child after going through what she did, but eventually, I made it home. Growing up with a twin is a lot different than growing up with a regular sister. You do everything together. My mom still tells the story how Alexis used to crawl out of her crib and into mine, just to sit with me. Every picture we took, we were next to each other dressed in the same outfits but in different colors. As the years went by, my family started to notice how my sister towered over me in height. If the age difference between us were farther apart, there wouldn't've been any concern. We were a minute apart, but she was a foot taller than me. My pediatrician expressed concern for this when I was going into middle school and my mom decided to get me tested to find out the cause of this. The first test I can remember was an x-ray of my wrist. They wanted to see my bone age compared to my actual age. When the results were in, they showed I had the same bone maturity to that of a normal 6 year old when I was 9. No one expected the gap between the two to be that large, considering my twin was on the exact growth curve that we both should’ve been on. I was immediately set up with more doctor's visits, the next one was I had to get my blood taken. I have a terrible phobia of needles. I wasn’t bothered by the pain, but the needle itself freaked me out. They still freak me out. They are thin but hollow and are sharp enough to push through cells without drawing blood. I knew I couldn’t stop this because they needed to figure out what was wrong and I couldn’t complain due to an incident at my doctors a few years prior. I had to get a flu shot but really didn’t want to, so I hid under the small desk in the room and kicked my legs out until a foot made contact with the doctor. I still feel bad about that. Because I couldn’t avoid it, I brought a stuffed animal and sat on my moms lap. This wasn’t the first time I had to get blood taken but I was still terrified. The first thing I noticed was the chair they sat me in. Usually it would have a thicker arm for you to rest yours on, but this chair didn’t even have arms. My own arm hung limply in my lap as she stuck the needle in, thankfully finding a vein the first time. I sat patiently waiting for it to be over, eyes shut tight not wanting to see my blood move through the tubes anymore. Then it was time to take the needle out. The nurse who was doing it took my arm band off first, before the needle. That didn’t seem right to me so I immediately started to panic. Just when I thought I couldn’t freak out more she turned to grab a bandaid and hit the needle while it was still in me. I saw it jolt and started silently crying, grabbing onto my mom as she tried to calm me down. After the blood test there was a CAT scan. I had to have a needle in my arm the whole time as it was connected to a drip bag. I don’t know what I was injected with because I tuned out the woman as soon as she mentioned a needle. The CAT scan took place in a large machine that filled an entire room. I was put into the loud machine with a weird cage locked around my head so it couldn’t move. It felt like a coffin. I was tightly surrounded on all sides with nowhere to go. Static pop music played through the headphones I was given to try to block out the beeping and whirring of the metal beast. It took about an hour to finish and at the end my arm was completely numb. With the needle in it, I refused to move even a single finger until it was out. I remember it burned keeping it still that long but I didn’t care. That was the last test, but not the last obstacle we went through. When the tests came back they showed that the pituitary gland in my brain was not sending out the hormones I needed in order to grow. After consulting many doctors, they decided to put me on growth hormones. It was a pen-like injection that I could get in my arm, thigh, or butt once a day, everyday. I immediately said no to a needle in my butt, and my arms were too small for it not to hurt, so we decided to do it in rows alternating legs. Before we could receive the medication we had to go through insurance. They denied our claim even with doctors saying I needed these shots. My mother had to go into a legal battle with the Red Cross after they denied it off the fact that for one doctor's visit, one time, I was marked to be on the normal growth curve. It was clearly a mistake and in the end my mom had to switch all of our insurances in order to get it covered. I finally started taking them at the end of fifth grade, but refused to inject myself even though the needle was only half an inch in length and very thin. So my mom and dad came up with a routine for me. Every night before the first of us went to bed, I’d grab the pen from the fridge, screw the needle onto it, and dial the correct amount to inject. I’d then sit on a couch or counter and wipe my leg, they’d stab it in, push the button, and it would be done. A year after starting the shots, my sister and I decided to go to a sleep away camp for an entire week. I was able to skip the injection for a day or two here and there, but not for the seven days we were at camp. My mom arranged for me to store it at the campgrounds medic cabin and go to her for it every night. I was already used to getting it so I wasn’t worried about having a stranger give it to me. When the sun set on the first day I was escorted by a counselor to the nurse in order to get my shot. She set everything up and when she stabbed me with it I had to bite my cheek from gasping out loud. She pushed the tiny needle into my leg so hard that it felt like it could break inside my leg. The next night when she went to do it I said, “You don’t have to push it in so hard.” To which she replied, “Would you like to try it yourself?”. She was really sweet so I didn’t want to tell her she was hurting me so I shook my head no and she did it again. Once again she jammed the needle into my leg and held it creating a bruise. On the third night I decided that, even though I was scared, it would be easier for me to do it myself. I asked her politely if I could try to do it myself and she obliged. I hovered the pen over my leg, counted to three, then pushed it in. I was shaking as I pressed the button, listening to the spring push, feeling the cold of the medicine. Time felt slowed when I had to do it. I couldn’t look away like usual. After it was done I handed it back to her and smiled. I couldn’t believe I did it myself! When my mom picked me and my sister up from camp I was so excited to tell her that I gave myself the shot for almost the whole week. “So you can do it yourself now, you don’t need me to do it?” she asked. “Yup!” Two days later she was back to doing it for me. Although I didn’t have growth hormones like a normal person to begin with, there were a lot of things they had to watch and I had to do in order to be able to keep taking them. Through the blood tests they had found out I had extremely fast metabolism and good cholesterol, so they told me I needed to gain weight. I’ve never been one to love sweet or greasy foods so when I heard them tell me what I needed to do I almost broke down crying. I had to start drinking protein shakes, put extra butter, mayo, and anything fattening on everything I ate. I even had my own jug of whole milk that I had to put into cereal, smoothies, and drink plain. It was really hard for me and I could tell my mom felt bad every time I had to chug a protein shake. I don’t think I could ever drink one again. They didn’t know how long I’d be able to take them so they tried to get me as tall as possible. Growing as fast as I was in such little time ended up causing me some minor bone issues. I ended up with minor scoliosis which I’m thankful is only a nine degree curve which isn’t noticeable and doesn’t need treatment. It was estimated that I’d reach almost five foot. I am currently five foot three and done growing but I am so grateful for even reaching this. Alexis is bitter that she can no longer intimidate me with height because she is only five one. Any time someone points out the difference between us she says “Yeah, well, Helena cheated so it wasn’t fair.” But I know she’s happy for me.
Mom and Me by D. V.
MOM
There is a picture of her with her late father. They are standing in his pharmacy and, she is wearing his uniform while looking at him, and smiling as the world revolves around him. As she grew older she would stay out late and not care about her education. She broke rules and faced the wrath of her brother. It is though she was tired of being who she has been for her entire life. In the years leading up to high school, she was the perfect student. The perfect daughter. The perfect sister. She would come home and help her mother make dinner and go, do her chores and then help her brothers with whatever they needed. Only, it all changed a few years later. She was on the path to becoming a doctor and then she wasn't. The perfect daughter went away, so did the perfect sister and student. Now she was just like the rest of them. Gone was the little girl who looked up to her elder brother-- like she did her father in the picture-- for everything and replacing her was a woman, defiant and headstrong. She became a hairdresser instead of a doctor and grew further away from her family. She traded the white coat and stethoscope for the apron and scissors. The little girl was gone. She struggled to find her way and purpose in life, but she wasn't a quitter. She tried and tried and was finally successful. She became a banker, a mother, and a wife.
ME
In the video, she runs around wearing her astronaut costume. Yelling, “Look at me! Look at me! I’m an astronaut. I can fly. I can save the world.” Throughout her entire school career up until high school, she was a mess. She wasn’t a good student and didn’t feel like the best daughter. She didn't have any aspirations or goals in life. She was completely confused and didn't know what was going on around her. The only thing that seemed to matter was the few “friends” she had. She tried to appease and help everyone around her, but she was completely lost. I look back at that video and see how that carefree girl changed into the complete opposite. I was a happy child until I turned six years old. I look back to a little bit earlier and see the stark difference in fourteen years old me and seventeen years old me. Gone is the messy, careless, lost girl, replaced by this mature, determined, serious girl. This girl has goals and ambitions. She doesn't care about what other people say but rather what she thinks about herself. Gone is the lost girl.