Someone Who Means So Much by Dalissa Hernandez

My grandfather was the greatest person alive. He was my best friend, a father figure in my life, and everything else. He was my whole heart. My joy. He had the biggest heart, loved his family more than he loved himself, and was always trying to help someone. My grandfather was a man of his word. When I was little girl, he always took care of me. He always gave me my favorite cereal in the morning, made clubhouses for me out of sofa pillows and blankets, and always made sure I was never bored. He taught me all my life lessons as a little girl. He’s had such a great impact on my life. He would walk me to school and watch me play on the chalked, dented, and cracked concrete during morning recess. It was always the little things he did that mattered so much to me. I tear up every time I think of him. My grandfather always made sure everyone was okay before he was. He always wanted everyone to be at peace with themselves. I think that was the problem. He spent so much of his time making sure others were okay, that he didn’t have time to make sure he was okay. As my grandfather got older, he became more and more unhappy. Things in general became a lot harder for my family throughout the past two years. On Father’s Day of 2016, I lost my grandfather to suicide. A hole sits in my heart until this very day. He will always be remembered. He is my joy and happiness, and instead of dwelling on what happened, I choose to think about all the amazing things he and I did together. All the things he has done for my family and me. No one will ever take my grandfather’s place. No one can ever compare to my grandfather. He will always be the greatest person in my life! I am so grateful for the time I spent here on earth with him. He means so much to me. He is the person who means the most to me. I love you and miss you dearly, Abuelo.

Childhood in the Projects by Dalissa Hernandez

“It seems to me, that this, too, is how memory works.
What we remember of what was done to us shapes our view,
molds us, sets our stance. But what we remember is past,
it no longer exists, and yet we hold on to it, live by it,
surrender so much control to it. What do we become when we
put down the scripts written by history and memory, when each person before us can be seen free of the cultural or personal narrative we've inherited or devised? When we, ourselves, can taste that freedom.”
– REBECCA WALKER
Black,White,andJewish: Autobiography of A Shifting Self

–
INNER CITY STORIES

My name is Dalissa; I was born in Florida and raised here in New Britain, CT. When I moved to New Britain, I went straight to the projects with the few family members that had come with me. At first, it was just my mom, dad, brother, and me. My dad was always at work to provide food, shelter, clothing, and other things for us. My mother was always working double shifts to cover expenses that couldn’t be covered from just my father’s income. Most of my childhood years, my brother and I would always look out for each other when our parents weren’t home. Something very traumatic happened in my childhood life that I’m able to talk about even now. What happened has caused such a burden on my life as a child, especially not being able to share it with my family. It took me a few years to overcome that certain obstacle in my life. Not too long after my breakthrough, my baby sister was born, a blessing to the family. We were so grateful to have her, although our financial struggle became even more intense having to provide for another child.

As a child, however, I never knew we struggled. I’d see kids with other things and wonder why I couldn’t have that, though I never questioned my parents about it. I’d hear kids at school talking about their houses and wondered why I didn’t live in one, but lived instead in the projects. As I grew I began to realize these things were based on money. There was a reason why I didn’t have what the other kids had. Their idea of fun was going to places that cost lots of money. My idea of fun was playing tag, hide and seek, and manhunt in the area around our apartment till the sun went down with a few kids on the block. This wasn’t the best circumstance for me, though. I was on the streets a lot. I found myself there every day. I was always getting myself into some sort of trouble as a little girl, stealing from stores and houses because I was angry that I didn’t have what everyone else had. I found myself breaking into homes with friends at the age of nine. I wasn’t going down the right path. As I grew older, I became angry at our struggle. I felt it was not fair. Not only our struggle. But family issues, lack of motivation, wrong teachings. It all made me so angry. I was such an angry child.

I can sit here and talk about myself all day. But this . . . this is what made me the person I am today. I have made my mistakes and have grown from them. I have experienced struggle and have overcome it. I have dealt with trials and tribulations in my life. I’ve learned my rights from my wrongs. Today I am a woman of determination, strength, and courage. I like to compare myself to the Lotus Flower. It’s a flower that grew from mud. It represents overcoming obstacles and rising from struggle. I am thankful for what I’ve dealt with as a child. It made me who I am today. In all honesty, I’d be completely lost and clueless if it weren’t for my childhood.

Turning Fifteen by Mariah Williams

“You're only young once, they say, but doesn't it go on
for a long time? More years than you can bear.” 
–HILARY MANTEL, An Experiment in Love

–
INNER CITY STORIES

I was five years-old,

Waking up to sirens and the smell of stale alcohol sometime after midnight.

As nightmares and scary thoughts took over my dreams,

I couldn’t understand that this was actually my reality.

Getting up to get some water, but being told I was not allowed in the kitchen right now because “business” was being handled;

Seeing scratches and bruises litter my mother’s pale skin,

Accidently calling my nine year-old sister “mommy” because she was the only person taking care of me.

I was six years-old,

Being passed around to different family members

Not being able to sleep in my own bed

And then a man who didn’t know anything decides the best place for me to go was with the man who’d left dark marks and blood all over my mother,

But he didn’t want me.

Then I was residing with people who were willing to take on others’ responsibilities.

I was ten years-old,

The one who’d raised me and cared for me now gone,

The cancer taking his life,

and breaking the hearts of his loved ones as well.

My last shred of peace was being ripped away by antidepressants and panic attacks and heroin.

Then I was passed back to the one who couldn’t handle the responsibility of caring for what he’d brought into the world.

I was eleven years-old,

There were new people in my life;

Bad habits began consuming my time

I learned that trust does not exist

and that words couldn’t solve my problems

I was suspended from school so many times they stopped punishing me, because they realized being in this building was more of a punishment than being out of it.

I would come to find dinner made a few days before, or not made at all;

My blood sugar became quite low and so did my weight.

I was twelve years-old,

Eating was not an option because I didn’t want to get heavy.

I now had a “real” family, though nobody noticed you could see my ribs through my shirts.

Nobody noticed the tears staining my cheeks after coming out of my room.

Yelling and screaming and fighting began

I was told it was time to pack because we needed to leave;

Walking out of a familiar home hiding bruises under my sleeves:

A goodbye present from my “loving” brother.

I was thirteen years-old,

Buying narcotics from classmates or guys who were three times my age;

Dating around because I wanted someone to care about me,

I started wearing more makeup and carrying myself differently.

I was fourteen years-old

Having constant panic attacks

Being told I was crazy and should be in a hospital,

Failing classes,

Not caring,

And listening to everything I heard from anybody

I am fifteen

I am looking forward to my future

I am making plans to have a better life

I am not letting my past decide where I go now.

How can a person be so quiet and so loud at the same time? by Mariah Williams

INNER CITY STORIES

His mouth: though words are always falling from his lips, he isn’t saying anything

His brain: though he doesn’t work and seems not to understand anything, he knows so much

His emotions: though he says they don’t exist, you can see them residing in his eyes

His ambition: though directed towards the wrong things is so very evident

He can see so much

Hear so much

Feel so much

Do so much

But for some reason, even though he is so capable, he can’t see the secrets I hold in front of him

He can’t comprehend the feeling and thought I put into our conversations

He can’t do the simplest thing, like feel for me the way I feel for him

How can I be so loud and so quiet at the same time?

It’s Never Too Late to Be Great by Justyce Grant

INNER CITY STORIES

My name is Justyce La’Mara Grant. I am a junior at New Britain High School. I am 16 years-old, my birthday in November 9th, and this is my story. When I was six years-old my sisters and I were taken away from our mother by the Department of Children and Families (DCF), and were placed in separate foster homes. Mom was sick, addicted to drugs, and couldn’t care for us. We were staying with our grandparents at the time; grandma didn’t have her sense of smell due to a car crash.

My father was in jail when all of this was taking place; he was in and out of my life the same way he was in and out of jail. When he got out of jail he decided to take custody of me. I moved in with my father and my sisters moved in with my aunt. When I was eight, living with my father, he began abusing me; sober nights were bad, but drunk nights were horrible. I was abused by him until age thirteen, when I finally told someone about the abuse that was going on. Of course, no one in law enforcement did anything, so I told my older brothers. I had two older brothers, Justin and Joseph; Justin was the older one. When I told them about what was going on, Justin was beyond furious. The next say he picked me up from school and brought me to his house. From that point on I lived with my brothers.

My brothers taught me almost everything I know -- from the streets to the books. Everything I needed to know, they made sure I knew it. To my brothers I was the princess; they bought me anything and everything that I wanted and needed. They were my protection; I felt bad for anyone who bothered me because they were going to have to hear from both of my brothers. One thing my brother Justin always used to say was, “It’s never too late to be great.”

On November 8, 2013, the night before my fourteenth birthday, at approximately 11:38 pm, my brother Justin Jayron Grant was shot and killed. I woke on the morning of my birthday to the news that my older brother was no longer alive, that his life had been taken the night before my birthday. That was, no doubt, the worst day of my life. Not only was he my brother, he was literally my best friend, and I lost him to the streets. I thought things couldn’t get any worse, but I was wrong; two weeks later, about five hours after Justin’s funeral, my second older brother, Joseph, was arrested for murder. He was going to jail for killing the killers of my brother Justin. In a matter of two weeks I lost both of my brothers, and on the same day I had to bury one brother, I watched the other get locked in handcuffs and taken away.

About a month later I lost my grandmother, and a month after that I lost my grandfather. I was only fourteen, feeling pain of a thirty year-old. That pain was unbearable. On December 18, 2014, I was arrested for the first time; on. January 14, 2015, I was sentenced to detention for eight months. I no longer cared anymore; the pain was so unbearable, the only thing I had left in me was anger. I was an angry girl. In my mind, if I wasn’t happy, then no one else could be either. I wanted to destroy everyone’s happiness to try and make myself feel better. I was in and out detention for the whole year. Throughout 2015 I was charged with several different crimes, from breach of peace, to criminal mischief, and even attempted robbery. I spent my fifteenth birthday in a group home and my sixteenth birthday in a detention center.

About two months ago I got a chance to change my life for the better when I was placed here in New Britain with my aunt and sister. Not a day goes by when I don’t think about what I’ve been through, along with my brothers. Justin used to say, “It’s never too late to be great,” and he is right. Now it’s my time to shine. And that is my story.

Ariana by Lefty Martinez

“She looked sad when she sang, and it really tugged at Himme’s heart.
At one point he imagined himself going up on stage and kissing her.
An electrifying kiss that would make her his, right then and there.”
–ETGAR KERET, “Himme”

–
INNER CITY STORIES

There was a girl with the smile of an angel, the voice of a goddess. She was never ungrateful, but was very loving and always modest. Her hair was as soft as silk; her scent was as sweet as roses. It’s sad she left this world so coldly. It was four years ago, on the 18th of May, 2012. Since that day I have vowed to be bold and never handle conflicts violently. And still till this day I see her picture and it makes me want to change my ways. It's sad that I lost my closest friend to suicide. I can’t forgive myself for my mistake -- telling her I would always be by her side when, sadly, I wasn't. In the end I begged her to stay, but what with everything I’d said she decided to do herself wrong. Even though I'm not the reason she is no longer here, I can’t help but blame myself. I should have listened better, protected her from the evil men who told her to end her life. I remember getting the call from her crying mother, mumbling, “Ariana is dead. She took her father's gun and shot herself in the head.” At her wake I made a promise to her mother to always remember Ariana and never let myself fall to the same fate. I love you, Ariana, forever and always, until we meet again.

R.I.P. 4/24/99 - 5/18/12

My Boyfriend by Alison Balbuena

"A love story, at least a convincing one, requires three elements
- the lover, the beloved, and the adventures they have together."
–JANE SMILEY

–
INNER CITY STORIES

My boyfriend’s name is Jesus Cano but his family calls him by his middle name Hector. He’s funny, sarcastic, childish, and even acts like a little baby when I don’t pay attention to him. My boyfriend is really insecure about his body but I always tell him that I love him how he is. When he’s with me he treats me like a queen. We both have a lot of things in common, and connect on so many levels.

My boyfriend has a habit of comparing himself to other people, and overall he starts to be jealous of their bodies. He wishes to look like them, then he starts to over think about how he wants to be skinny instead of chubby, wants to look better and cuter for me; I always tell him that I love him just the way he is but he never gets it through his head, so he starts to over think a whole lot more about his personality and looks. This becomes a huge obstacle for him because he won’t learn to like his own body and personality. It will be difficult for him to overcome his insecurities. He is also insecure about his stretch marks that are all over his back and stomach, but I tell him they’re “cute tiger stripes babe, I have them too.” Every time he takes off his shirt in front of me and I see his tiger stripes I start touching those cute tiger stripes of his as he looks down at me as a sign of love and appreciation. Till this day now I still tell him to love and accept himself no matter what, nobody's perfect, people come in all different shapes and sizes.

One of the amazing things my boyfriend can do is treat me right. He keeps me very happy, so I can never stay mad at him for that long. He shows me in many ways how he treats me right and shows that he loves me. My boyfriend is really overprotective of me, he’s always looking out for me to see if I’m alright; he would know when something is wrong with me, asks me questions to see if I need anything. I’m his one and only, his best friend, his soulmate, the love of his life, his queen, his world. He never stops fighting for me, he motivates me in different ways. We have been together for eight months now; we started dating January 11, 2016. Every time my boyfriend sees me, he always comes up with random gifts on him; one of the biggest surprises he has ever gotten me were two rings from Pandora that were beautiful. He gave me the rings as a way to show me that he’s committed to this relationship, that he’ll go through hell and back with me and stick together with me no matter what we go through. In my past relationships none of them ever worked out, I would always end up with a broken heart; I was never able to trust or love ever again until I met my boyfriend. He taught me how to love and trust again, he put my heart back together and showed me that not everyone is the same until you meet the right one. In the end you never know the type of people you will meet until you find the right one who will love you for you. When you’re looking for love you don’t need to worry, for it will come to you.

Pretty by Nina Singh

Now the mask was gone. She looked young and pretty…
As we walked we made plans…. We were ourselves again—
restless, scheming, poised for flight.
–TOBIAS WOLFF, This Boy's Life

–
INNER CITY STORIES

The voices alI around me

The names I was called

The laughs and the giggles

Oh, how I heard it all

The parade of spit balls

The tripping and spitting

With me constantly wondering

What did I do so wrong?

What if I was simply pretty?

I wondered how that would change things

I was too hard on myself

I saw myself dying

But the worst part was

I didn't want any comforting

The nights of panic attacks

The nights of terror

Crying out to God

To make me feel better

Nothing was happening

I soon gave up trying

Till one night

When I finally stopped crying

The pain was so sharp

I just couldn't take it

Maybe I’d take a razor

And transform into a canvas

Covered with red paint

Soon realizing I just couldn't stop

I fell into a great darkness

Where my all sorrows had dropped

Bouncing off the walls constantly

Calling to me, haunting me

No one even noticed

I was just a happy young girl

Anxious to please

Willing to do anything

Little did they know

How badly I wanted to be pretty

My Dad by Jayda Pontes

“It was a survival thing: he didn't answer back,
didn't say anything about job security for prison guards,
debate the nature of repentance, rehabilitation, or rates of recidivism.
He didn't say anything funny or clever, and, to be on the safe side,
when he was talking to a prison official, whenever possible,
he didn't say anything at all. Speak when you're spoken to.
Do your own time. Get out. Go home. ... Rebuild a life.”
― NEIL GAIMAN, American Gods

–
INNER CITY STORIES

I remember all the stories my dad would tell me about how I was such a good baby growing up, since he raised me from when I was little up to four years-old. After that everything went blank; when my dad was young he had lost his dad and my uncle, and since he had me when he was young he didn't really have enough time. One day he got arrested, I don't recall for what since I was little and didn't really understand what was going on, but I remember all the jail visits I did with my grandma. It made me super happy to see my dad because to me my dad was everything and he still is, but then one day I had a huge breakdown in the car. I was probably around five or six and I couldn't take it anymore; I wanted my dad out of prison, I wanted him home with me and grandma. My grandma responded, “Pumpkin, we don't have to go today, would you like to go get some ice cream instead?” I responded with, “Yes, grandma, but I miss daddy!” That's when she said, “I know, but daddy will be back soon; so wipe your tears, he wouldn't want you crying. Now give grandma a big, big smile.”

From that day on we stopped going and my dad called us instead almost every day at the same time. When he finally got out and got back on his feet he actually did amazing; I'm not saying that just because he's my dad, I'm saying that because he really did. He went to school to become an electrician, so it was finally me, Dad, and grandma all over again. Then my Dad met my stepmom, which is where my brother and sisters come in; I love them, by the way, with everything in me. From that day on we spent our time together; we did family things, going to the zoo, movies, mall and out to eat.

After that I wasn't able to see my Dad because people were keeping him away from me, so I started to stay with my grandma; that way my Dad could come by and see me along with my siblings. Over the summer of 2015 I was out a lot; I kept calling my dad so that we could spend time together; but he wouldn't answer. After the fifth try one day I decided to call my grandma; when I called she picked up and I asked ,”Grandma, have you heard from Daddy?” She answered, “Pumpkin, I have to tell you something; you can't cry, promise me you won't cry.” I replied, “Grams, just tell me what you're talking about, ” as my eyes began to water. “Your Dad got beat up by the cops for no reason….”

Then I lost it, words wouldn't come out; she was calling my name, “Jayda, Jayda, Jayda,” but I just gave the phone to my mom. After that my mom and grandma talked about what happened while I tried to calm down. My mom told me that they busted his eye and the whole right side of his face, and fractured some of his ribs for no reason. Then me and my grandma worked together to get my Dad out of jail because he wanted to see us grow up and help us with school like any father would want to do. One day on a school night I slept over at my grandma’s and in the morning we went to Hartford to get him out. We were there for hours; we got there at 5:00 and got back around 12:00 am; my Dad was so happy to see us, though, and I was so happy to see him as well.

Now my dad is back on track; we just had another addition to the family, my baby brother Cam-Cam. My Dad is also a part of the school's PTA, I think it's called, and is very active in our school meetings/open house etc. I honestly love my Dad; he's my hero, always willing to give a helping hand and teach people new things. He cares so much about others, especially his kids. So I'm glad my Dad is back, healthy, and healed.

Back Home by Francisco Contreras

"I have a very powerful sense of place,
but I have a very powerful sense of being a migrant,
so it's both. It seems like I'm always leaving my home.
That's part of the formula. I love the Dominican Republic.
I go back all the time. I love New Jersey. Go back all the time."
–JUNOT DÍAZ

–
INNER CITY STORIES

Life is like a puzzle,

Man, I hate to see my momma struggle

Yet it’s from there I got my hustle.

So while other people waste their time,

I've been on my grind,

Had to get rid of the nickels and dimes,

So we can all shine.

I left my people back home,

Moving to this town,

I felt so alone,

But I gotta stay strong.

Because patience is the key now,

I gotta go along

Like Lil Snoop would freestyle.

But God did all this for a reason, for my own good.

Now I'm here teasing so they know it's all good.

See, I would open my circle and let the breeze in,

But people keep changing, just like the seasons.

The War on Yourself by Jayson Henao

“There are so many fragile things, after all.
People break so easily, and so do dreams and hearts.” 
― NEIL GAIMAN, Fragile Things: Short Fictions and Wonders

–
INNER CITY STORIES

So you wanna know what depression feels like?
Every second you wanna know if you're still alive inside,
While your mind is telling you to just die
And you feel like you're drowning while you're still at low tide.
Your mind keeps asking why are you still alive?
Jump off that ledge and take the dive!
And pray to God that you'll still be all right,
When you look up at a disappearing sky.
 

So you wanna know what depression feels like?
Depression is like a war on your mind,
It's either you win or you die.
Your mind keeps telling you a bunch of lies and you choose to comply.
In a blink of an eye your mind and you no longer see eye to eye.
Your head starts hurting and begins sounding like the Fourth of July.
Your whole body begins to electrify.
The only thought in your mind is suicide.
 

So you wanna know what depression feels like?
You feel like every second will prove your doom.
Like your trapped alive in a burial tomb.
If you had a gun in the room you’d put it to your head

All everyone would hear is a loud kaboom.
Now you see yourself in an emergency room.
 

So you wanna know what depression feels like?

The truth is, you really don't.

Perfectly Broken by Yarieliz Alamo

“To what extent does anybody control his destiny?
Life is very much like falling of the edge of a cliff. You have
complete freedom to make all the choices you want to take
on your way down. My characters choose to yearn and not lose
hope even when the odds are completely against them. It doesn't
make the landing at the end of that fall any less painful but, somehow,
it helps them keep a little dignity their bone broken body.” 
― ETGAR KERET

–
INNER CITY STORIES

I am perfectly broken.

A soul that is drained but never dares to show it,

A soul that is warm, yet always feels so cold.

I am perfectly broken.

A young girl with the mentality of someone older

Who can’t compete with all the immaturity.

I am perfectly broken.

A strong girl with a weak heart,

Yet the longing for love remains so painful.

I am perfectly broken.

A girl who is capable of hiding her hurt behind smiles

So that nothing can ever get in her way.

I am perfectly broken.

A girl who has felt so miserable just seeing others happy;

I put on a smile and everyone thinks I’m okay,

But like I always say, you have to fake it to make it.

On the inside I am broken, but I make it seem like everything is fine.

If you wear a smile to fake it, then they think you’re all right.

But you are perfectly broken.

Te Amo Abuelo by Carmen Nieves

“What I discovered and what my grandfather always
taught me which was really valuable, which was so
important for me, is that one can listen without
asking questions and learn an enormous amount.
–JUNOT DÍAZ

–
INNER CITY STORIES

I’ve never been much of a mommy’s or daddy’s girl. I’ve always been close to my grandfather. When I was little I would always follow him around and go to work with him. I stayed with him and my grandmother while my mom was at school and my dad was at work, so we spent a lot of time together. I was his little twin. I remember when I was about nine or ten, and he was laying down in bed watching the noticias on telemundo and my aunt gave me a dirty diaper and told me to throw it at him, so I did. It hit his face, and it was HILARIOUS!!! He was so mad “ay dios mio puneta,” he said.

I really have endless memories of this man, I love him so much. He was a great man. He worked so hard, and he loved his family. Everything he did was for us. Of course he’s made mistakes, but who hasn’t? On March 6th, 2012, he left us, he really left us, and I still can’t believe he’s gone. He died of liver failure, and I don’t think I’ve ever really dealt with this pain. He was my abuelo, my favorite person in the world, and he just left without saying goodbye…

About a week before this, he spent that week in the hospital, and it was like a cruel roller coaster. One minute he was great and getting better, and the next minute he was terrible, but there’s no doubt in my mind that he was a fighter. The doctors always said that he was supposed to die when I was very small, maybe even before I was born, but he fought and kept fighting for many years until one day my dad called me and said he was downstairs, but his voice was so shaky. I went downstairs and my dad was waiting for me as he said it, but he was crying so I asked him why? He told me to sit in the car, so I did. “He said “welo just died.” I felt my heart shatter into a thousand pieces. I said nothing the whole car ride to MiddleTown. He asked me if I was okay and I said nothing. I was in shock. We entered the hospital lobby and I ran up to his room. It didn’t hit me until I got to his room and his whole body was yellow. One thing I loved about him was that he was always warm/ I would snuggle up next to him and watch novela’s with him when I was little, but when I sat next to him and held his hand, he wasn't as warm as he usually was… I said I love you, but for the first time ever, he didn't tell me he loved me too, and I don't think I’ll ever get over that…

Te amo abuelo, sálvame un punto allá arriba.

Don’t Wanna Cry Anymore by Jayson Henao

"And I think that when I started writing
it was basically a way of putting it on paper saying
this is why I want to live. This is what life means to me."
–ETGAR KERET

–
INNER CITY STORIES

I'm always mad at myself, that’s for sure
Placing my family on reserve
Driving around, wanting to swerve
And crash in the midst of a steep curve
Cause that's just what I deserve.
 

This depression been biting down to the nerve
Wanna be happy
But my mind won't let me, and that’s just absurd
Letting these poems out so my heart can be heard
Don't know what my mind is thinking, it's all becoming blurred
Always feeling down in the dirt
Try to make everyone happy, but always end up getting hurt
My mind’s on high alert
For new people who walk into my life and make my mind subvert
Feel like my mind’s more frigid than a frozen dessert
 

Wish when I get depressed I could just walk away and avert
So I could stop this feeling from getting any worse
The only people who make me happy
Are the friends I adore
But when I'm alone I get punched in the heart and fall on the floor
My heart feels so sore
Down to the core
This depression’s got my mind going through the Third World War
Just wanna go back to better times before

Don’t wanna cry anymore

Ariana’s Story by Lefty Martinez

“You are my first love.” And then, “You will be my only love.” 
― REBECCA WALKER, Adé: A Love Story

–
INNER CITY STORIES

It was the middle of December in the year 2005. I was a little boy when I met Ariana. I remember it like it was yesterday; we were in the same school up until sixth grade. Ariana was a very funny and smart girl who always knew how to brighten up my day. I remember all the songs we sang together, the games we played, and even all the silly faces we made. She was always a kind soul who never asked for anything from anybody. Ariana would always be the one to crack jokes, help a friend in need, and take me in as one of her own. Our friendship was one that could have lasted a lifetime, but sadly things changed. Once seventh grade started she would go out and try to run away from home, tell me how she didn't belong in this world, even resort at times to cutting her wrists. I did everything in my power to ensure that she was okay, but it didn't quite work all the time I would always remind her of how great a person she was, how she had an amazing voice that could have been known internationally, and even remind her why I was her friend and cared about her as much as I did.

I remember saying to Ariana, “Although life isn’t how you planned for it to be, I’ll always be by your side.” Hearing me say that would make her smile; she would tell me how much she loved me by calling me an idiot. Those memories are what I cherish the most from our friendship. I remember one day when I came home from school I called her only to hear her mother say that she was in the hospital due to an overdose. I did everything I could to be there for her; I stayed in the hospital with her that night, telling over and over, “I will not leave you alone.” I asked her why she had tried to end her life and she answered, “This is the only way I can find peace in this world.” She also told me that several very sick and evil men had gotten inside her head. I remember her saying that they told her evil things like, “You are a worthless piece of trash who will never deserve anything good in life.” She cried for hours on end that night, telling me how she just wished she had died instead of being in that hospital bed. That night I vowed to protect her no matter what the situation was, yet I failed to make that happen.

Everything seemed to be going well for the next two months. But then things went bad again in April, one week after her thirteenth birthday. She began cutting herself again, making promises she couldn’t keep, and leaving her house at night and not returning until 2:00 in the morning. On May 18, 2012 I got a call from Ariana’s mother; she was crying so much it was hard to understand everything she was saying, but I managed to make out her mutter, “Ariana she is dead!” I asked, “How can this be? She can’t be gone!” With a depressing mumble she replied, “Ariana took her father's gun; since I was still in bed I had no idea what she was doing, and before I knew it I heard a loud bang.” I asked her if the police and medical examiner had said anything, and she said they had told her, “She shot herself in the right side of her head, killing her almost instantly.”

Ever since that day I’ve felt like everything in my life has been ruined. Ariana was the best girl in the world and now she is gone. I pray that one day we'll meet again. I wish I could just tell her how much she meant to me. I just want her to know that I will always love her.

Social Media by Mykalah Souza

–
INNER CITY STORIES

What impact do social media have on people? That is the question people have been asking since social media was created, and it is the question that will continue to be asked for a very long time. Some effects of social media are obvious and often seen.

We have all heard about cases of cyberbullying. People being excessively and repeatedly mean to others without even having to talk to them in person. People have killed themselves because of people that they haven’t even met. A lot of the cyberbullies don’t care about the people they are bullying because a lot of them don’t see their victims in person. A lot of them don’t think that there will be a consequence for their actions. Cyberbullying is one awful consequence of the creation of social media.

A positive effect of social media is people who stay at home get a chance to be social. Someone who stays at home a lot, like me, can use social media to actually talk to people. Skype is one social media app where you can talk to people in group calls without having to give out any personal information. I spend a lot of time on skype and sometimes I play games with people while talking to them on skype. It makes me feel happy and less lonely without even having to leave the comfort of my own home. People are given the chance to make internet friends, which is amazing for people who can’t make friends in real life. I know I have internet friends from places like England and Australia and they tell me about their culture and their ways of life in the place they live. The people I meet online are really unique and interesting. Social media has allowed me to talk to some wonderful people.

Another effect is people can put themselves out there. On apps like Youtube, people can record themselves doing anything and upload it to the internet. Some youtubers become famous, like Pewdiepie. Pewdiepie aka Felix Kjellberg started uploading videos of him just playing video games and making funny commentary. He has millions of subscribers and makes a lot of money from it. He uses social media to get more people to follow him, satisfy his audience, and connect with his fans. Other youtubers like Danisnotonfire (Dan Howell), AmazingPhil (Phil Lester), Tyler Oakley, Joey Graceffa, and Shane Dawson started filming videos on Youtube and became internet famous. Some of them have their own movies, tv shows, and/or radio shows.

People sometimes use social media to procrastinate. I know I have planned to do homework and ended up going on social media for hours many times before. A lot of people spend their time looking at their Instagram feed, their Tumblr dashboard, their Twitter timeline, their Facebook home page, other people’s snapchat stories, or watching Youtube videos, watching Younow liveshows, watching Twitch broadcasts, or skyping with people. There are so many different things that people can do to procrastinate on social media. That causes numerous distractions, especially if your phone keeps buzzing every minute. It makes it impossible for some people to work.

Social media is a great tool to help you stay updated on what’s happening in the world. Events like terrorist attacks and natural disasters are put on social media. People hear about them. People retweet or reblog stuff to spread the word and possibly save someone’s life. The system is effective and efficient. A lot of my knowledge about the outside world is from the internet and social media. However, I do try to make sure that the information I receive is credible and actually true before I spread it to other people.

Social media is entertaining. People enjoy going on social media and seeing how other people live. I think it’s interesting and I spend a lot of time on social media, and I do feel like it has benefitted me. I feel more social and it helps me connect with my friends. Social media might give kids reasons to stay inside the house, but that isn’t a bad thing in certain places. In cities with a lot of crime, like New Britain, I think it’s good for kids to stay inside on social media, instead of exploring the dangerous outside world. But then again, I might just be trying to justify my own actions. Either way, social media clearly has its advantages and its disadvantages. It can help some people, but it can also harm other people. Even after hearing about the bad things about social media, I feel like it’s still fun and I will continue using it until it is no longer fun for me.

Black Souls and Other Pieces by Earl Waite

"So I don’t even remember it as a post traumatic experience,
I just remember it as the way I grew up. So I think that
I was very blind to the reality I grew up in until I became a father.
And when you’re a father you face and have to explain to your son all those things,
but my father never explained it to me. Like you know, this is reality."
–ETGAR KERET

INNER CITY STORIES

Black Souls

Silver bullets fly thru the air, another black man slain, another family in pain, with only 25 cents in his pocket and struggle in his eye, the worst thing is his family never got the chance to say goodbye. With his last breaths on earth, he sees the gun that didn't give him a chance to run. The gunshot shouts in the ears of Spectators, the taste of blood stains his lip, he's losing his grip. He'll never see his kid because a bullet landed in his rib. His body hits the ground with a gut wrenching sound as he lies there dead his story will go unread, marked down as another black man dead.

–

Peace within water

As the rain falls from the puffy clouds and hits the ground with a lovely sound that massages my ears, the Bliss of the repeated sounds relaxing my state of mind and puts me in a state of Tranquility, I look out my saturated window and see the tiny droplets fall from the tree limbs the smell of moisture seems to levitate in the air around me I open my soon to be liquefied window and slightly reach my hand out quickly the rain droplets caressed my arm in a peaceful and loving way

–

Don't judge

Don't judge me

Don't judge me on the words I said but instead learn what lies in my head

Don't judge me on my aspirations because my thoughts can inspire nations in my heart lies dedication for elevation

Don't judge me on the way I talk the way I walk because my intelligence will leave you in shock

Don't judge me on the image in your head because my story has been misread I will not stop until my family is fed

–

My name is Earl Waite. I am 17 years old, and I love to write and I like to play sports. When I write, I don’t just write–I look to motivate and inspire my readers, and I believe I can spread a message across the world that no matter who you are you can do anything. And, if I can, I would love to make this dream I have a reality and I know you guys can help with that. I go to Public Safety Academy in Enfield, CT. I like to play basketball and just play a lot of sports. I have a lot of friends at my school. I am a very easy person to talk to. I am also a fun person to be around because I get along with almost everyone I come across.

By participating in The Creative Process I have learnt that I have a lot of knowledge that I can bring to awaiting eyes and ears.

Reflecting on Education by Caroline Czuprynski

"And what education is, is that it’s possible for someone
to encounter material, to encounter their peers, and to encounter
themselves, and in that encounter be transformed by themselves,
the material and their peers. Transformation is what we’re after." 
–JUNOT DÍAZ

INNER CITY STORIES

I will not be the first nor the only one to admit this: the American education system is flawed. Because of this, students in America, especially teenagers attending high school, are stressed out and often upset due to school-related matters. Students attend school to learn, to practice and study, to eventually go out into the “real world” and begin their suitable careers, right? Well, that’s not always the case, and it’s not as easy and simple as it might sound.

It’s mostly generally known that each country has their own guidelines for grading students in schools. However, students in the U.S. seem to be intimidated by the grading system in their country.

UNITED STATES

UNITED KINGDOM

89.5-100%: A, Excellent

70 & above: Distinction

79.5-89%: B, Very good

60-69%: Merit

69.5-79%: C, Average

50-59%: Pass

59.5-69%: D, Below average

40-49%: Tolerated Fail

0-59%: F, Failure

Below 40%: Fail

This table compares the grading systems in the United States and the United Kingdom. It can be seen and concluded that a student in the U.S. who receives grades in the top half percentile of “failure” is equivalent to a UK student achieving “very good” and being able to pass. With grades in the failing percentile, U.S. students often feel as if they are “stupid” and not as well educated as those who achieve higher marks, but that is not the case. Not only does the U.S. grading system damage students’ self-esteem, the fact that teachers in the U.S. emphasize that getting good marks on tests and assignments is more important than actually learning something in class actually detracts from students’ education. Getting good grades on a test, for example, is said to be a sign that the student knows what had been taught in class and understands it well, which might be true sometimes, but not all the time. Sometimes students understand the lesson and subject very well, yet they may still get a mark that doesn’t reflect their understanding and intelligence. When taking a test or quiz, there are different factors that might have an effect on the student’s performance, such as anxiety, nervousness, exhaustion, or even a fight/argument at home the night before. This kind of situation is something I know all too well and struggle with myself; I know and am told that I am an excellent, straight-A student, way above average, and even in the top five percent of my class, yet there are occasional tests and assignments that I may get a grade of around C+ on, which is definitely not up to my best potential. When this happens, I must admit that it does upset me, because I know that I understood the material quite well. It was subject matter that I had handled readily and competently on class assignments and homework. However, I will not let a small and single grade undermine me or my potential; I will not have something like that question my intelligence. All students should be able to understand that grades do not always necessarily have to measure how smart they are, and they should also be able to accept that they will have off-days, and that’s okay, it shouldn’t get in their way.

The first time I ever heard of NWEA testing was back in the beginning of this school year when I entered the Freshman Academy, most likely due to the fact that I had attended private school instead of public schools in the New Britain school district. I was really surprised and discouraged about these tests, especially since they were done during the first few weeks of school when we had just entered. I was also thrown off by the fact that we weren’t informed about them beforehand. But the thing that had annoyed me the most was that we were being given the tests before we were really able to learn anything in class; it was like the teachers weren’t being given any time to teach because there had to be this testing. The tragic thing about all this is that it seems that the United States, the government, and most boards of education are more interested in giving out all these standardized tests and whatnot to students than letting teachers get to educating the students in order for them to actually be more prepared for those tests. These kinds of situations make students more worried than they really should have to be, constantly having to be on the look-out for yet another test they shouldn’t necessarily have to be taking.

Another thing that puts a lot of pressure on students is homework. Most students in high school will take at least one, two, or three AP courses throughout their entire high school experience. These courses usually give out two to three hours of homework per night for each class. That puts a lot of stress on teenagers, especially those students who participate in clubs or sports, which also take up a good amount of their time after school. This might lead to students staying up late just to finish homework and be prepared for class the next day, which takes away from time for them to sleep, which is very important for young adults. It is quite understandable that these courses require so much work of students, considering that they are college-level, but it also should be understood by teachers and other staff that teenagers shouldn’t just be focused entirely on school. Most adults say that teenagers should have an equal and balanced focus on school, social interactions, and other important things in an individual’s life, and that they should be able to live out their youth before becoming adults. However, there is so much pressure and work put onto teenagers at this age that sometimes they don’t have the time to do anything except homework, studying, and other school-related assignments and activities. I will never forget the few times that my father offered to carry my backpack for me, mostly throughout middle school, and he would tell me that my backpack was so much heavier than his was when he was my age; he would say that kids around this age and grade level back in Poland in his youth wouldn’t get this much homework, that they wouldn’t receive homework assignments for each subject and class each night, but that certain subjects would be assigned on different, certain days. This really had me wondering about how everything is in this country in terms of school and work, and it gave me a better understanding of why most foreign parents are always troubled by how overworked and stressed out their children always seem to be.

Lastly, there are some cases where there are horrible teachers being hired. Not horrible in the way that they are “lousy” or unsuitable to teach adequately, but in the way that they scold and put down students that may be able to perform certain tasks at a higher level than the rest. Fortunately, I have never been confronted with such a situation, but I have read about many students who have been scolded by their educators for being able to read on a higher grade level, or because they solve their math problems in a different way than the teacher does, or because the teacher doesn’t like the way the student’s private piano instructor teaches her or him to play the instrument. People like that are not real teachers; teachers do not put down and degrade their students for their accomplishments, even if they are possibly done better than the rest of the class or performed in a different way. Teachers encourage students to continue what they are doing and keep doing it as best as they can; they honor them for their great and respective accomplishments and achievements.

There are definitely flaws throughout the American education and school system that cause unnecessary difficulties for students. Hopefully, one day, step-by-step, we will be able to see students who are less stressed and more self-motivated in a better environment for teaching and learning.

Diversity in Media by Kaya Czwalinska

"As a novelist, my job is to try to inhabit people of any culture,
to be a person of another sex, or another race, or another
ethnic group. I think it helps me to understand them,
and it helps the reader to understand them, too."
–T.C. BOYLE

INNER CITY STORIES

I think and know that greater diversity and greater representation is needed in the media. Many kids feel as if there is something wrong with them because they don't look the way that every “normal” kid looks on TV and in movies. It makes me feel so bad to know that young kids are embarrassed about themselves because they don’t fit exactly into the model that the media creates.

I don’t know if I’ll tell this correctly but I remember this one article or post that a waitress wrote about this one kid with hearing aids who was in the restaurant with his family. The waitress came up to wait on their table and saw that this child had toys from the Marvel comics, Avengers, and was playing with them. This waitress also noticed that this young boy was wearing hearing aids. Not that this was something abnormal, but the waitress got excited because she could now tell the boy something about one of the Avengers. She asked him if he knew the character “Hawkeye” in some of the original comics, who was 80% deaf and also used hearing aids. Not only did this boy get excited, but the whole family did. The dad said that he’d buy the comics as soon as he could. This post made me content because now this kid had a superhero that has the same disability that he has. I think it’s important for kids with disabilities to get the representation that they deserve.

There are many kids who love reading books, and so having diversity in the YA novels that they read is important. Almost every YA novel that I’ve read has this cis white girl falling in love with this cis white boy and that’s it. I didn’t even notice it at first because it didn’t seem like anything that was abnormal to me. Until I realized that that was the only thing that I was seeing. When there is representation in books for people of color, they are secondary characters who the main white character tries to befriend and it ends up going badly for him (or her). I at first included “her” in that sentence until I remembered that these books don’t include girls in that way either.

In school, it is important to have diversity starting from a young age because then their children’s mindset towards other cultures and people is not narrow but instead open and growing. Even if it is not possible for there to be diversity, teachers and the curriculum should teach students not to be so narrow-minded about people who are different. I know many people that grew up in a school system where they didn’t see people different than themselves and I overhear them making racist or homophobic remarks and none of their friends say anything about it. And when someone would call them out they just say, “Oh, I wasn’t being racist,” or “Oh, I’m just saying it as a joke,” because they haven’t been taught to know what is offensive to other cultures, heritages, and countries.

We see numerous blockbuster films today in the industry and so many TV shows that have the same diversity in characters, which is none. Think of the past five movies you watched in the cinema and count how many of them included a white male lead. Of course now there are some shows which have cast POC where they would usually cast white actors. I know the excuse that many casting directors make -- that their white counterpart “was just better” and “is a better actor/actress,” but how different can skills be when so many people audition? This just shows a pattern. But then again, diversity pertains not only to differences in skin color. How many times have you seen a character in a TV show with hearing aids? I literally cannot even think of one time I saw that. If kids were to see people with disabilities on television on a regular basis (or even if a couple shows included this) then kids would not be so shocked to see someone like that in reality and would not think of it as anything abnormal. Then those kids that do have to carry something that is different like an insulin pump or a back brace wouldn’t be so scared to go out in public and might even show off that they have something like that.

I saw many positive comments for this advertisement that the American Girl Doll company put out. It was an ad that included a girl in a wheelchair, one with a prosthetic, and one with a hearing aid. I love the fact that American Girl has one of the most inclusive and diverse selections of dolls today. They have made all of their dolls accessorized; I find this so important because now young girls can choose things for their dolls that they also wear or carry themselves, and have a mini-them to help reassure themselves that they’re not in this situation alone.

Using diversity in marketing as a tool is important. People like to see people similar to themselves so being diverse is the first step to bringing out the whole crowd to the party. Think of it logically, if you had the chance to present your product or service to a wider range of people than just a few, why wouldn’t you want to take that opportunity? I’m pretty sure that some promoters would say something like, “I just don’t know how to include that so I won’t do it”. But how hard is it to just talk to people and ask what would be an offensive thing to say and what is acceptable to do? Literally, the worst thing you can do in an advertisement is offend a whole group of people by making an ableist joke. Imagine having to use a wheelchair everyday just to be able to go places and this store that you’ve been wanting to go to just put out an ad that says, “We’ve included ramps in our store at the following locations for all you lazy kids who just don’t want to move your legs.” I would be so confused, because I wouldn’t know if the store made that offensive comment on purpose or if they were just trying to make a joke. Like I seriously cannot use my legs and you would have the nerve to make a joke about that?

Once again, having knowledge about diversity is so important because it gives you keys to knowing how to interact with many different people. If I did not have access to getting to know other people that are different and finding out information on other cultures then I don’t know where I’d be. Probably writing an essay on how I think the world/society is perfect the way it is now. (Which it isn’t).

Where I’m From by Destinie Lebron

“Fearlessness in those without power
is maddening to those who have it.” 
― Tobias Wolff, This Boy's Life

INNER CITY STORIES

I am from a neighborhood of riding bikes, no fights, growing up and learning to love and to believe. I’ve lost people that I loved, but never gave up, aiming high for the stars, then crashing down and hitting rock bottom. There I learned to cherish every moment of life and to be a better me, not only for myself but for everyone around me who admires me, cares about me, counts on me. I plan to be the first, the first to graduate, the first to go to college, the first to succeed and, the first to be the best. I will do this, not only for myself and my mother but for my father too, who was never there to see me succeed, who caused more pain than anything, who only saw me hit rock bottom. I told myself I will rise, I will show him that I am set for greatness, I WILL NOT let him define who I am, I WILL NOT be like him, I WILL BE BETTER with or without him. He’s made me cry, made me feel like I almost died. He took a part of my heart and smashed it into a million pieces, but that's okay, I don't hate him, I thank him. Because in 20 years I will be able to look back and say “I made it.” I did it without him, I will grow up, have a family, I will make my kids proud to have me in their life to say my name and to admire me, something I am ashamed to do for you. I love you, Dad, I do, but you don't deserve to say “I Love You Too."