Creative Pieces

The Night They Knew (Part II): A Scene.

liz

*You can read the first part of this scene here.*

Hospitals can save billions by improving operational efficiencies ...

Mollie, with her hair messily in a bun and her dress colored with Weston’s blood, is seen walking back and forth in the waiting room, waiting to hear anything from Weston’s doctor. Weston’s mother and twin brother arrived at the hospital 15 minutes after they did in the ambulance, and both of them has said nothing to her about Weston. 

As Mollie continues pacing in the waiting room, she spots her sister Jennifer, and her husband, Milo. Shit, Milo Jr. must’ve told them what happened.

Jennifer and Milo spot Mollie, and instantly run towards her.

Jennifer: Mol, what the hell were you thinking? *notices the bloody dress* Are you hurt?!

Mollie: I’m fine. It’s not my blood.

Jennifer looks at Milo, and he looks at Milo.

Milo: I’ll go find your aunt, Pep.

Milo runs out of the emergency room to try to find Jennifer’s aunt, who is a doctor at the hospital.

Back in the waiting room, Jennifer is trying to calm down Mollie. 

Jennifer: What the hell happened? Where were you?

Mollie: What, Milo didn’t tell you the whole story?

Jennifer: *angry* Mollie.

Mollie: I was with Weston, okay? I went to see him at his place.

Jennifer: *stressed* Mol, he lives in a bad neighborhood, what the hell were you thinking? You could’ve got yourself hurt, or killed!

Mollie: *yells* Don’t you think I know that? I should fucking be in that hospital bed, not him!

Jennifer: *confused* What?

The in-patient door opens and Weston’s mother is shown walking out, talking to someone on her cellphone. Her eyes are visibly red and puffy. Jennifer looks at Mollie’s dress once more and puts two-and-two together. Milo comes back and Jennifer immediately asks for his denim jacket. He gives it to her and then Jennifer gives it to Mollie to cover up her dress.

Milo: Your aunt is in her office, Pep.

Jennifer: *turns back around towards Mollie* Go into Aunt Gabby’s office; Mom is gonna be on her way and she can’t see you out here looking like this.

Mollie: And what do I tell Aunt Gabby?

Milo: She knows you’re here, Mollie.

The door opens and Gabby, Mollie and Jennifer’s aunt, call out for a “Mollie Sue Castro” as if she was a patient. Mollie turns around and walks towards the door. Jennifer and Milo leave the waiting room.

Mollie sits on top of the hospital bed while Gabby checks Mollie out to see if she’s okay. After finishing up, Gabby tosses her plastic gloves in the trash bin and sits across from Mollie in her office chair. 

Gabby: So, you’re gonna tell me what happened before your mom gets here?

Mollie: *sighs* I went to see Weston at his place. All I wanted to do was see him. Spend time with him. Get my mind off of everything happening in my life.

Gabby: And what did you tell your mom?

Mollie: That I was going to Milo’s to hang out… did you tell my mom that I was here?

Gabby: No, I didn’t even know Weston and you were here until Jennifer called me. She told me your mother called her worried that you weren’t home by midnight. Then you called her, saying you were at the hospital. She had to tell your mom where you were.

Mollie rubs her eyes with her palms.

Mollie: She’s gonna kill me.

Gabby: I’ll try talking to her. Why didn’t you and Weston just go to the movies or out for dinner or something? Why did it have to be at his place? Were his parents even home?

Mollie: *annoyed* Aunt Gabby, please.

Gabby: I’m sorry, Mollie. I’m just trying to understand what happened. I know you know better than to go into a bad neighborhood at that hour of the night. What was so special that…

Gabby stops her train of thought once she realizes that Mollie’s face is turning red and getting uncomfortable sitting on the hospital bed. Gabby rolls her seat closer to Mollie.

Gabby: Just get some rest, hun.

Gabby gets up from the chair and walks out of the office to get back to her job. Mollie curls up on the bed in the office and falls asleep.

Time passes by and Lydia, Mollie’s mother is seen walking fast into the waiting room. Walking to the desk, she demands she knows where her daughter is. The woman at the desk insists that no one from that name was admitted into the hospital, which Lydia refuses to believe. She looks to her right and sees a familiar face; Weston’s mother. His mother is bouncing her leg in nervousness, reading a magazine to get her mind off of what’s happening. Lydia is confused until she hears her name being called by a doctor. It’s her sister, Gabby. Lydia walks towards her sister.

Lydia: Where the hell is Mollie? Jennifer said she was here.

Gabby: She’s in my office, resting.

Lydia walks angrily past Gabby towards the direction of her office. Gabby goes after Lydia.

Gabby: Lydia, wait!

Lydia: *turns around* Let me handle my own daughter, Gab. This doesn’t involve you.

Gabby: You got to go easy on her. She’s not in the right headspace right now.

Lydia: And she wasn’t when she decided to see Weston without anyone knowing!

Gabby: Lyd, she’s covered in the boy’s blood for God’s sake.

Lydia: *eyes widen* What?

Gabby: Weston is in critical condition. A couple of neighborhood thugs beat him up after sticking up for Mollie. A stranger called the cops and ambulance for them. I know you saw Weston’s mother in the waiting room.

Lydia: Was… was Mollie…?

Gabby: No, she ran before the guys could do anything. Jennifer said she said she ran back to Weston’s place crying and scared. I can only assume Weston was defending Mollie.

Lydia drops her purse off from her shoulder and leans against the wall of the hallway. Gabby walks in front of Lydia.

Gabby: Lydia, this is bigger than what you think it may be. This wasn’t just some rebellious act on Mollie’s end.

Lydia: *angrily* When isn’t a rebellious act of Mollie’s? Y’know, I sometimes don’t understand what goes on in that girl’s mind. It’s like she purposely makes these bad decisions just to cause me a heart attack, I swear. She’s always been like this; it’s just gotten even worse as she grew up.

Gabby: I think they love each other, Lyd.

Lydia scrunches her eyebrows and folds her arms across her chest. 

Lydia: What are you talking about?

Gabby: Mollie practically cried herself to sleep in my office. She got to the hospital just repeating how it should’ve been her in a hospital bed, not Weston. She’s worried sick about him. I never saw Mollie as vulnerable as I saw her tonight, Lydia. She cares a lot about this boy and judging from his actions, he does too.

Lydia ponders the thought. She’s looking up and down the hallway, trying to fathom everything that’s happened tonight. 

Gabby: Instead of yelling at her when she wakes up and grounding her for the rest of her life, I suggest talking to her about this. Some teenage puppy love doesn’t land one of them fighting for their lives in the hospital and the other one covered in their blood.

Lydia looks at Mollie through the tiny window in Gabby’s office; she’s peaceful for the first time tonight. She turns around and exhales heavily.

Lydia: She’s too young to know what being in love is like, Gab. She’s only 18.

Gabby: *annoyed* Just how you fell in love with Shawn and got pregnant with Jennifer when you were 17?

Lydia: Yeah, and look where him and I are at now: divorced!

Gabby: That doesn’t excuse the fact that you were in love with him when you were Mollie’s age. It’s not impossible and you know it.

Lydia: *defeated* So what am I suppose to do? I doubt Weston’s mother is going to want Mollie anywhere near her son. They aren’t gonna stay from each other if it’s that serious.

Gabby: *shrugs* That’s a conversation further down the road. All I’m saying is to take an easy on Mollie. Sure, she made a dumb decision, but you made dumb decisions at her age as well.

A nurse walks up to Gabby and hands her a clipboard for a patient. Gabby takes off her lanyard to unlock the door of her office. 

Gabby: Try not to scare her, Lydia. I’ll be back in a few.

Gabby walks in the other direction and Lydia takes a moment before entering her sister’s office. Mollie will surely be the death of her. 

— The End —

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Topic Tuesdays: Music

Let’s Talk About “Kpop” Group, Kaachi.

liz

Dear, guys – welcome back to Letters From Liz!

So, there’s something that’s been currently going around within the Kpop community that I wanted to discuss because, well, I’m very much a part of that community and I’ve been seeing non-stop discussions on this topic. 

So, let’s just get straight into it: KPop has become one of the biggest genres of music in the last couple of years; with BTS making their ground-breaking debut in the U.S a couple of years ago to now having more and more Kpop groups exploring and touring for their international fans, it’s safe to say that Kpop is this huge thing now.

With that being said, the Kpop industry is so incredibly competitive now that it has become this huge thing around the world. The big entertainment agencies are competing to stay on top, while smaller agencies are hoping their groups within their agency make their company more well known. Sadly, some of these groups go unseen for years; one example is my favorite group, VICTON. They debuted as the third official act in the company; the first (I believe) was APink, then a solo artist that I can’t remember his name, then it was VICTON back in 2016. Because they come from such a small agency, they weren’t as successful as they should’ve been back then, and there were talks of them disbanding in 2018 after releasing their single album, Time of Sorrow. It was then Seungwoo and Byungchan went to Produce X 101 for one last chance and well, the rest is history.

It’s stories like that and the unfortunate stories of other Kpop groups that sadly disbanded due to lack of success that makes this story just a little bit more frustrating for me. So, let’s get to it:

KAACHI: Grupo Kpop británico debuta con MV 'Your Turn' | miembros ...

Within the last month, there was a new “Kpop” group that debuted with their single, “Your Turn“. The Kpop group (and we’re saying Kpop as lightly as possible) goes by the name of Kaachi. Kaachi is a four-member girl group under FrontRow Entertainment; the members are Nicole, Chunseo, Dani, and Coco. The difference between this group and other Kpop groups is that this group is based in the United Kingdom and only one of the girls in the group is Korean. In other words, they are the first UK based Kpop group; westernized Kpop group.

People in the Kpop community are upset that this group exists. This project (from what I’ve seen) seemed to be quickly put together just so that their company can generate money out of a genre that wasn’t meant for them in the first place. These girls are talented and driven to be successful, but they don’t match up to the same level as rookie debut groups have these days. Their vocals aren’t sharp, the dancing is lackluster, and it doesn’t look like a professional girl group that debuted in the industry, but more so a school talent show performance performing their favorite Kpop song.

I don’t want to be harsh, but we got to call a spade and spade and talk about how wrong it is to appropriate a genre of music that was created and established in another country. In a sense, it’s like how white westernized artists are being criticized for dressing and performing music that comes from the Black community and makes it a trend or their own when it’s been underappreciated and misunderstood for decades.

For me, it’s even more than that. Being a fairly new Kpop stan in this community, I realized the difficult times these idols go through and just how different the standards are in that industry compared to ours in Westernized countries. In South Korea, you have to follow a certain lifestyle, maintain a certain weight, sacrifice their adolescent years, and train for years in hopes that their company sees them and thinks they are ready to debut in a group. That opportunity comes easy to some, but sadly most of these trainees (and even idols) never feel like they are enough, and that’s fucking sad despite how many people support and love them.

It’s just unfair to get four girls (who didn’t train with each other and had the line up for this group change a couple of times before debut) and create a Kpop group out of girls who don’t live in that industry 24/7. Sure, Kpop is just a genre of music, but the process behind the music is far more different than your typical music artist in westernized countries. I get that they are being experimental by trying to fuse the two sounds together, but with girls who are just “Kpop fans”; it doesn’t sit well with me. For them to just know basic Korean, be “Kpop fans” and interested in singing and dancing doesn’t qualify them to be Kpop idols.

I don’t wish bad on these girls and I know they aren’t the ones responsible for this, it’s the people who decide to put them together and produce their songs and just go on with this idea that it was going to work out. With the negative feedback the group received, the people who run the social media accounts disabled comments, masking the issues that the formation of this group brings into the industry.

Let’s cheer for the groups that are struggling to make it within the scene because their small agencies can’t afford to promote them properly on their own. Let’s cheer for the rookies that debuted and are worrying if their debut stage is going to be the last stage that they perform due to the lack of recognition in the industry. Let’s cheer for all of the trainees that are working hard towards their dreams of being a Kpop idol. Let’s not try to take away the hard work and dedication these people have for something “new” and “shiny” that isn’t right.

I wish nothing but success for these girls in Kaachi, but please – showcase your talents and passions in another way that not only strips away the integrity of the industry but also strips away your own identities.

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Overexposed: A Self-Love Project.

Overexposed: I’m A Chang(ed/ing) Person.

liz
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I feared that I was a part of the small percentage of people that would never change.

I felt like everything that I did, no matter how much older and mature I got within my years, I always had the habits and traits that deemed me an unchangeable person. I could even take all the right turns to make the outcome different and prove the change within me, but nope – it would always come back to its roots. 

Maybe that thought process was the result of having someone in my life for a very long time point out the fact that my patterns, no matter how different they were, were always the same. They had me figured out every single time, and for a while, I thought their judgment on me was right.

Hi, my name is Liz, and it’s taking me a long time to realize that I am a chang(ed/ing) person.

If there’s one thing I know about myself, it’s that I’m not the same person I was when I was a teenager. I am not my eighteen, I am not my twenty-one, and I’m not even my twenty-five. Hell, I’m not even the twenty-six I was a couple of months ago. I’m not the teenage girl that got in between people’s relationships and kissed two different people in one day. I am not the 21-year-old that was losing herself all in her family drama. I’m not the 25-year-old that was just getting out of her decade-long relationship. I am also not the 26-year-old that I was a couple of months ago. It’s not not I’m not staying true to myself, it’s the fact that we are constantly changing, and if it’s done properly, it’s typically for the better.

For years, I felt like I had to prove myself to people on the fact that I was a changed person. It made me adapt to this idea that who I was was a villian, that she was this horrible person that deserves the world to just shit on her. Because of my past mistakes, I I felt like I was never allowed to outgrow that part of my life; I was constantly reminded that because of those actions of my past, they would always affect parts of my present and future, which I look back now and wish I was able to tell myself that was simply not true.

The dumb things I did at eighteen just happened; I was just a dumb, young, and naive person and my actions reflected off of that. Who didn’t do dumb shit in their teenage years? Better then than later in life, right? The things that I did when I was eighteen were not the same things that I did when I was in my early 20’s; sure I was still young and had some growing up to do, but at that point in life, I knew better and had a better sense of my morals. I guess the point I’m trying to make is that the beauty of changing coincides with the beauty of maturing. We change because we grow up.

Being 26, I never got the chance to allow myself to accept the fact that I grew up, I changed, and that it was okay that it was happening to me. Last year, it was okay that I grew out of the things and people that made me happy, it was okay that I wanted to start a new chapter in my life; it honestly just meant that I was changing, and a lot of that changing had to do with my soul.

My soul, despite me being ready or not, wanted me to recognize that I was a changed and changing person. I wasn’t the teenage girl anymore that tolerated a lot of things before. I wasn’t the shy, quiet girl in her early 20’s that had severe social anxiety. I was a person who was growing into her own, and learning about herself through the process. With therapy, a little bit of self-awareness, and just the uncontrollable change happening in my life, my changing was unavoidable. It was happening whether I wanted it to or not.

Even knowing that the person I am now wasn’t who and what I was in the past, I till had this inevitable fear that I will always be the bad things I hoped would change. That I was always going to sell myself short and find the love and support from people who will always put me second. I always feared that deep down within me, I was never a changed person, just someone who was good at hiding it.

Life tested me earlier this year when I met this guy while I was working at my job at the bookstore. This guy is one of our regulars; he would come in almost every day during his lunch break and we would engage in small talk. He had a good energy and vibe about him that I really liked, and for awhile I had a little crush on him. After putting my big girl pants on and gave him my Instagram to follow, we started to communicate on there. So whatever, I’m all giddy and I’m flirting like crazy, until he mentions that he has a serious girlfriend. Sure, that sucked for a quick moment, and in the back of my mind, I thought about the times I intervened in other people’s relationships despite knowing they were in them when I was younger. For a slight moment, I thought about that part of my life; I thought “how the hell am I supposed to be friends with a guy that I’m really into that’s in a relationship without being too flirty or open?” At first, that transition was hard. I found myself sharing a lot about myself and being flirty when I knew it was wrong, and it wasn’t until I reflected back on what I was doing that made me realize I was more than this. I deserved to be someone’s first. I deserved my own special kind of love. My self-worth is a lot more visible than it was when I was younger.

That’s when I knew I was a chang(ed/ing) person.

This guy and I are now really good friends. We have a shit ton in common and he’s someone I really enjoy talking about music with, passion projects, and just philosophical things about life. As time passed on, I now see him as a friend; it’s strange because I feared that my demiromantic side would fall for him once I got to know him better, but honestly I value the platonic aspect of our friendship. We support each other, we root for each other in our own individual crafts, and just have a normal ass friendship. I was able to change the narrative of a story that went down the same path one too many times. I was able to have control of my actions and do the right thing, in all honesty. It’s so easy to go back into old habits that were not healthy; the real challenge is to stop yourself from slipping into that old habit again.

I know it seems like it’s common sense, but doing something like that truly let me know that I’m capable of changing and being a changed person. I am able to recognize a pattern or behavior that I’m familiar with and just now know better. Doing what I did in this situation also helped me put some of my worries away; I will not let what happened 8 years ago come back around and happen again, because I grew up, and I am a changed person.

So here’s to always evolving in life. Here’s to looking back and see the changes you made in your life to make it better and to live it healthier. Here’s to the fact that it’s okay to always be constantly changing; as long as you remain true to who you are, that’s all that matters.

What remains true to me will always be the reason why I am forever changing.

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Creative Pieces

Too Little, Too Late: A Scene.

liz

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There is a 23-year-old man, Micah with brown dreadlocks tied in a bun looking through a mirror. He’s straightening out his very patterned blazer with his bowtie, making sure that everything looks alright. While he’s doing that, a pregnant 23-year-old with wild curly hair, Rosie, walks into the room.

Rosie: Well someone’s looking snazzy tonight! Who’s the lucky chick?

Micah: *looks at Rosie through the mirror* There’s no date tonight, Roe, I told you about this gala thing that my folks attend every year. I even invited you to come.

Rosie: Parties aren’t my thing. Besides, I suffocate you enough while we’re in this house.

Micah rolls his eyes and smiles.

Micah and Rosie have been best friends since their college days, and just recently he asked her to move into his place in order to help her out. While to the outside world it looks like they’re dating, they actually aren’t. Although Micah has been secretly in love with Rosie for years, he’s grateful that Rosie even allows him to be this close to her; she’s had a rough past.

Micah continues to look at Rosie through the mirror, who’s made herself comfortable on his bed. He wishes that’s where she slept permanently. He snaps out of the thought and looks at himself now in the mirror.

Micah: *sighs* Do I dare try taking my nose-ring out?

Rosie gets off the bed and stands behind Micah to see the entire vision.

Rosie: I think the loud, patterned blazer will distract everyone from seeing your face, Mic.

Micah: Hey, I look good in this blazer!

Rosie: *pats Micah on the shoulder* Keep telling yourself that, bud.

Rosie playfully laughs and walks out of Micah’s bedroom. Micah stays in place, hoping tonight will go by as quick and as smooth as possible. No distractions, no small talk, nothing; he just wants to come back to join Rosie in their own world. 

Rosie is now sitting on the couch, scrolling through the channels on the TV. Micah walks into the living room and towards the front door.

Micah: Alright Roe, I shouldn’t be there long. You’re gonna be okay here on your own?

Rosie: I got cola, oily potato chips, and double fudge brownies from last night, I’ll definitely be alright. *laughs* Go have some fun, babe.

Rosie laughs while Micah smiles and rolls his eyes; she loves to play that game. He opens the front door and walks out of the apartment.

In the gala, nothing but ballgowns and suits cover the ballroom floor and nothing but twinkle lights and fancy fabric covers the ceiling of the venue. Micah has greeted his parents, Milo and Jennifer, as well as his siblings; Milo Jr, Reagan, & Dylan. They all asked where “his girlfriend” is, and Micah easily comes up with the lie that Rosie was feeling sick from the pregnancy. He can only wish that one day, that excuse can benefit him and his attendance to places. 

For most of the night, Micah tries to keep a low profile; possibly near a corner that is closest to the bar. 

As he minds his own business on his phone by himself, he hears a very familiar voice that makes his heart sink to the pit of his stomach.

Kalia: Hi, Micah.

Micah looks up and sees Kalia, a tall girl with wavy blonde hair, and she’s wearing a shimmery navy blue and white dress.

Kalia was the first girl Micah fell in love with. They met in high-school; she had a passion for music just like him, and even after learning the fact that Kalia is the daughter of a famous Swedish-American actor, her fame didn’t stray him away from her. They dated for two years until she decided to leave her American life behind to follow her father back to Sweden to kickstart her own acting career. She pretty much left him and their relationship behind, which broke Micah’s heart.

Micah snaps back to reality and still stares at Kalia; is she really standing in front of him?

Micah: K- Kalia, hey.

They share an awkward silence as he sits at the table and she stands over it. She looks down at the seat across from Micah.

Kalia: May I?

Micah: Yeah, yeah, sure.

He readjusts himself as she takes a seat. He can’t seem to take his eyes off of Kalia; she’s fucking beautiful.

Kalia: You look so different compare to high-school.

Micah: Thanks… You do too.

Kalia: The dreadlocks, the nose-ring, the fashion; you’ve definitely grown into your own.

Micah: Hey, better late than never, huh?

Kalia smiles, then immediately sighs.

Micah: So, what brings you back to the states?

Kalia: I’m currently filming some scenes for a movie here; also, to visit my mother while I’m here.

Micah: That’s nice. She still lives in the city?

Kalia: Yep. She’s still doing her art thing as well.

Micah immediately thinks of Rosie when Kalia brings up art. He smiles at the thought. Kalia smiles back at him.

Kalia: Dad’s back in Sweden. He’s working on a huge project there with a couple of other actors.

Micah: And Marcielle?

Kalia: She’s here tonight! Probably mingling with people and whatnot.

Micah: *nods* Ah, I see… so my father told you I was here?

Kalia nervously picks at her hands and laughs; Micah already knows the answer.

Kalia: I saw him with your mother in the other ballroom, I figured you were here too, y’know? I remember back when you–

Micah: I asked you to come with me to that year’s gala. *smiles* I never heard the end of it from my father when I came back home drenched in ocean water.

Kalia: *laughs* Oh my god, I remember that! We ditched the party and decided to take a walk on the beach.

Micah: Man, all I did was splash you a little bit with my foot. You decided to push me all the way in.

They both genuinely laugh and remember about the good ole times. When the laughs die down, Kalia takes a deep breath.

Kalia: Wanna do that again?

Micah: *scrunches his eyebrows* What?

Kalia: Let’s relive that memory, Micah.

Micah is confused; he doesn’t understand where Kalia is going with this. 

Micah: Kalia, we’re- we’re grown adults now. We can’t just be reckless like that.

Kalia: Why not? Why can’t we just relive those memories for one night?

Micah is speechless; he doesn’t even know what to say, but the only thing that he’s ever wanted to say to Kalia.

Micah: Why did you leave in the first place, Kalia?

Kalia is taken back from the question. The visible happiness is now gone from her face. 

Kalia: What do you mean?

Micah: You know exactly what I’m talking about, Kalia. Why did you just leave out of the blue three years ago?

Kalia: Are we really talking about this right now? It was three years ago. I’m sorry, but I wanted to start my career and be close to my family…

Micah: That I get; cool, but why didn’t you talk to me about it? Why did I have to find out through my dad that you were leaving America?

Kalia fidgets in her seat and says something in Swedish under her breath. She brushes her hair back and folds her arms on the table.

Kalia: I didn’t want to hurt you.

Micah: And you thought not telling your boyfriend that you were leaving for good wasn’t going to hurt me?

Kalia: Micah, please…

Micah: Kal, I loved you.

Kalia: I know you did.

Micah: No, you didn’t.

Kalia looks at Micah, apologetically.

Micah: I was madly in love with you, Kalia. Despite our differences in age and lifestyles, you understood me best. No matter what you needed from me, I tried my best to be there for you with open arms. I was there for you on the nights that you couldn’t go back to your mom’s place because she was so fucked up and couldn’t remember the padlock code to your condo? I was there when the whole world was trying to figure out who “Kalia Holder” was dating and I didn’t care if they did because fuck it, I was that much in love with you. After everything we went through, I deserved at least a phone call or text from you saying you were leaving.

Micah gets up from the table.

Micah: Your silence back then showed me just how much you loved me.

Micah walks away towards the balcony and Kalia runs after him.

Kalia: Micah, wait!

Micah stops at his tracks. Why does this girl still have a hold on him? Kalia steps forward to Micah and turns him around.

Kalia: I didn’t know what to say. I honestly didn’t know how to not break your heart. I know that’s a shitty answer, and I hate that I thought it was the right thing to do, but I was young and dumb.

Kalia and Micah are now inches away from each other. The tension is unfathomable.

Kalia: I never stopped loving you, Micah. You were the best thing to happen to me. You made my life feel normal and simple. When I left, I immediately regretted the decision. I felt lost; I felt like I lost my best friend. I always wanted to come back and explain this to you, but I never knew how to undo my wrongs.

Kalia looks down at the ground, regretful. Micah reaches out to her chin and lifts it up. They look at each other.

Kalia: I’m so sorry, Micah.

Micah doesn’t think twice and kisses Kalia; perhaps it’s the alcohol in his system talking, or it’s truly his still broken heart wanting to be this close to her again. The kiss is deep, it’s longing, and it’s apologetic for everything that’s happened. After the kiss, Micah takes Kalia’s hand.

Micah: Let’s go to the beach.

Hours later, the front door to Micah’s dark apartment opens. Two silhouettes are seen entering the apartment. Micah turns on the living room light and drops his shoes near the door; their attire is damp from being on the beach. Both Micah and Kalia giggle softly at the way they look. 

Micah: I hope the beach didn’t completely ruin that dress.

Kalia: *laughs* It’ll be alright, it’s just water.

Kalia slowly walks to Micah and tugs on his bowtie.

Kalia: Perhaps maybe we can salvage what’s left of my dress by having you take it off, huh?

She kisses Micah and works her way to undo the bowtie and unbutton the top of his shirt. Micah starts to get nervous.

Micah: Kal, I don’t think we should be–

Micah closes his eyes. If Kalia knew one thing about him, it was what spot to kiss on his neck. He can’t get sucked into this; he knows he’ll regret doing this in the morning, and more so she will as well. He can’t trust the fact that this won’t just be a hit-and-quit type of scenario. But damn, he can’t get her to stop.

They begin making out in the living room, and Kalia continues to unbutton Micah’s shirt. Once the shirt is halfway off, she notices a black and white rose tattooed on his chest.

Kalia: Ooo, that’s hot; nice little rose on your chest.

Micah’s eyes widen: Fuck. Rosie.

Micah snaps out of the moment and tries to gain back control of the situation. He remembers that his best friend/person he loves is in the other room, possibly sleeping. Everything started to come back; Rosie was the one person in his life to get him out of the slump he was in when Kalia left and broke his heart. He remembers going to Rosie’s old apartment drunk out of his mind trying to drown out the heartbreak and depression he was going through and how Rosie was there to get him through it all, despite the fact she was battling her own demons. 

Micah gets up from the couch and backs away.

Micah: I’m sorry, Kalia. I can’t do this.

Kalia: What? Why? Didn’t you have fun tonight with me?

Micah: *tries to compose himself* It’s not that I didn’t, it’s just that- I- I just can’t do this to myself. I can’t let myself get in too deep.

Kalia gets up from the couch and walks towards Micah.

Kalia: You… You don’t love me anymore?

Micah takes in a deep breath; he’s honestly lost for words. He looks down at the ground and then back at Kalia.

Micah: It’s not that. It’s just too little too late now.

Kalia nods her head, and she begins to gather her things.

Micah: I’m sorry, Kal.

Kalia: *angrily* Nah, you just brought me back here just to get your revenge and break my heart now since I broke yours years ago, is that what it was?

Micah: *defensive* Oh, so you think I’m that type of person?

Kalia: I don’t know the person you are now! It’s been three years!

Micah: *angry* So why the fuck did you decide to come back here? Huh? Just needed a good time, just how you always thought of me as?

Kalia: *yells* You know what? Fuck you, Micah, okay? Go fuck yourself!

A door is heard being open on the other side of the apartment. Both Micah and Kalia stop what they’re doing to now look at the person standing at the other side of the room. Rosie is standing there in her pajamas, curly hair up in the bun, and her pregnant belly poking in her shirt. 

Rosie looks at what’s happening in the living room and puts two-and-two together.

Rosie: I thought I told you to pick up a woman, Micah, not a skank.

Micah’s eyes widen, Kalia’s speechless, and Rosie? She’s ready to kill a bitch for her best friend.

 

— The End —

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Voiceless Rant: The Series

A Voiceless Rant: May 2020 Edition.

liz

Dear, guys – welcome back to Letters From Liz.

This time of year, I’m reminded of my past a lot. I deem myself a walking calendar, and when something has affected me or my life in a negative way, I’m bound to remember it. It’s a blessing and a curse; a blessing because I have a pretty good memory, but a curse because people think that it holds more significance in my life than it does. In the past, I’ve been scolded so much about not remembering my past as accurately as possible, that nowadays it’s the hardest fucking to do.

While May is still one of my favorite months out of the year because of the warmer weather and kickstart to the summer, It’s one of the hardest months to mentally get through because a lot of that traumatic shit happened around this time of year.

But fuck being silent about it.

With that being said, here’s this month’s installment of:

voiceless rant

I talk a lot about my 18th year because a lot of dark shit happened that year. Eight years later and I still carry that baggage around me every now and then, but slowly I’m letting it go and forgiving myself the more I talk about it. My therapist, Cathy, told me one of the most important things that I think I’ll carry for the rest of my life: “by talking about it, you’re diffusing the energy behind it.”

So, hi. This is me using this month’s voiceless rant to go on a rant about some things that I’m learning to let go of.

Eight years ago in May, many things happened. After 5 months of emotional abuse and death threats, I let Person #2 back into my life because I was still in love with them. The thing was, I was already interested in another person, Person #3; a new person that didn’t know who I was or what I was at my high-school because from the hours of 4pm through 7pm at an after-school workshop, I was just Liz. I wasn’t “Liz, the slut” or “Homewrecking bitch Liz” or “Liz, the girl with the cut marks on her arms”.

Balancing Person #3, then Person #2, and then Person #1 was a lot for me, but I didn’t complain. For once in 5 months, I felt like people were finally looking at me, liking me, and giving me the validation and attention that I desperately wanted. I was 18 and lonely, what can I say?

Person #2 didn’t really last long in my life. Sure, they had a hold on me and I spent my time with this person every now and then, but I was finally at a place where I wanted to leave everything behind and start new with someone who was interested in me and single. Spending the first day with Person #3, I kissed them. Big mistake. It gave them a perception of me that I was trying to avoid with them. Slowly, the person I was trying to keep away from this person started to seep through. I trusted this person way too quickly, told them my issues, and how heartbroken I was with Person #1 since I was in love with them but always felt like their second choice. They even told me a story about a long-distance lover they had, which at the time thought was the sweetest thing. Person #3 and I were just two lost souls, and I guess their company felt right. Until it wasn’t.

I made a stupid move traveling across the city to see them one day. I even remember the only reason I went was because Person #1 hurt me so bad two nights before that I just wanted to let them go, and let Person #2 go as well. I lied to them, I lied to my family, and anything could’ve happened. Of course, I didn’t think that a person I barely knew would do anything that would later on stay with me for the next 7 years.

I didn’t go over their house to have sex. Make out? Sure. Kiss some more? Sure. I was fucking depressed, and all I wanted was to enjoy someone else’s company. When Person #3 and I started to make out, we took it to their room, and that’s when things got intense. Sure, the making out was fun, I won’t deny that, but they clearly had another thing in mind.

They were trying to get through my buttoned-up jeans and touch me, despite me saying no. They called it stubbornness and playing “hard to get” or a tease, I call it I don’t want to have sex with you because I don’t know you and I value my personal morals. I don’t know how many times I told them no, that no I didn’t wanna touch them back, that this isn’t what I wanted, and I don’t know how they stopped trying. At 18, I didn’t think much of it and didn’t walk out of their house scared. Uncomfortable, yeah, but not scared for my life. As I got older, I realized that one of the reasons it took me so long to reconcile this in my head was because I simply wanted to forget it. After a while, I dissociated from it. I felt like I was betraying the love I had for Person #1, but also I realized just how lucky I was to get out of that fucking house the way I did. Without knowing Person #3 that well, god forbid they could’ve assaulted me. Who really knows what could’ve happened?

I recall this day because it was the catalyst for a lot of my issues after that. I lied about it a lot of times when the topic was brought up – to the point where I couldn’t even remember my own lies. I was a scared, naive teenager that didn’t want the one person I loved to leave me. Let’s call a spade a fucking spade. Little by little, the truth would come out, but one thing stayed consistent in my story: I didn’t have sex with Person #3. I wish I was stronger back then to stick my ground and just have a “take me or leave me” mentality, but I really wanted this person to believe me not only because it was the truth, but because I didn’t want their image of me to be tarnished.

I vaguely remember 5 years later that I told the entire truth to them. I hoped that this day that I regretted since it happened would disappear and be a thing of the past, but somehow it came up at every chance it could. I thought that coming clean would end it for good. Mentally I was in a better place and I was a better person than my teenage years, but it never seemed like it was enough.

I found out years later that Person #3 spread some rumors about me. They said I did this, I did that, and that they took “Person #1’s bitch” from them. If it wasn’t bad enough, I now had to battle rumors similar to those that were spread while I was a teenager. For a while, I felt like I was just deemed this person that people thought I was and no matter how much I grew and learned from my mistakes and even took responsibility for my actions, it was never enough. This me was never enough because the version that was always lingered in my life. It followed me to my 20’s, and it followed me to this post.

I don’t blame anyone for what happened in my past. I’m not here to point fingers and say I turned out this way because of this person and this situation. I’m way more forgiving than I believe I am, but it doesn’t mean that I easily come to terms that I “deserved” for this moment in my past to follow me to the point where I felt like I always had to remember it minute-to-minute.

A lot of things happened during my 18. What happened because Person #2 and I is forgiven and let go on my end. I chose to let that and them go because it was time and it didn’t affect me the way it once did. It was about time I forgave them (not literally but figurately) for myself, own my responsibilities for my actions and dumb decisions, and it has officially become a thing of the past. Person #3, although I do not have contact or any means of communication with this person, is more of a situation rather than the person I need to let go of. I don’t give a shit about this person, but the situation at hand is one I’m slowly trying to work on and diffuse because it was something I was forced to carry for years on end. As for Person #1, I’m currently working on that forgiveness and letting them go figurately as we speak.

I write this not to expose anyone or to put people’s business out there. It’s my story to tell, and it’s something that I always wanted to talk about for the sake of my own mental health. I talk about it now because I know what my worth is. I know I’m not anyone’s property or territory, I’m not this lost chick that lost herself in the people around her years ago, and I’m not my fucking past. 

So this year, this particular month, I am using my voice to finally speak out on something that I kept ranting to myself for years on end. Don’t judge me for who I was, what I did, and for the journey that got me here. Judge me for the now, the present, and for the version of myself standing in front of you at this moment.

Here’s to the loudest voice I’ve had on “A Voiceless Rant”.

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Self-Appreciation Saturdays

SAS: What We’ve Learned As A Community During the Pandemic. (5/16/20)

liz

self-appreciation saturday

Dear, guys – welcome back to Letters From Liz!

During the time I’m writing this, New York Governor Andrew Cuomo announced that the state is expecting to reopen regions that meet the criteria starting May 15th. With the number of hospitalizations and deaths going down as of April 20th, we are expecting to try to “unpause” the city and state, in hopes that the worst is behind us and that we can all slowly go back to our daily lives with some now special guidelines until there is a vaccine to treat COVID-19.

While that’s great to hear and I believe all of us are excited to at least walk out of our houses without everything being closed and deserted, I believe this time away from society has taught us some valuable lessons about how we treat ourselves, treat each other, and just how much alike our basic wants and needs are in life.

We learned that in times like this, the only thing we could control during theses times is our physical and our mental health. The only thing we can do to make sure we are physically healthy is to continue following the rules mandated by our governors. Mentally, the only thing we could do is take care of ourselves and make sure we are practicing enough self-care to get us through the days. In the beginning, it was difficult for me to find the time and space that was just my own; being in my apartment with the rest of my family eliminated that needed time just for myself. But just like everything else in life, I found ways and adapted to what was happening around me. I found my quiet space with a pair of headphones and my writing. Whatever your quiet space is, embrace it and use it as long as you need to during this time.

We learned that the way we live from this day forward will be a little different than it was prior to this pandemic, and we have to accept it no matter what. If that means masks are now a part of the attire until scientists develop a vaccine for COVID-19, then it’s just something we should practice for the sake of our communities, and those we love most. In comparison to the last traumatic event to hit NYC, 9/11, the numbers of deaths surpassed the ones that we tragically lost 19 years ago, and that major event changed the world as we know it. This virus is changing the world as we know it, and remember it’s for the better.

Most importantly, we learned the importance of support and the relationships we have with the people in our lives. Normally, we’re all always on the go and busy with our lives; sometimes we forget to check on the people we love and care about the most! With this time, it’s so important to keep in touch with those people; we are all going through this tough time and we all need the little extra love and support from one another. Sooner or later, we will all be back seeing each other in person, enjoying each other’s company, and giving each other the biggest hugs we possibly could. That’s the one thing I truly miss about my daily routine with my friends!

We all learned a lot during this quarantine time; whether we used our time to be creative or to take care of ourselves by resting, we all learned that we are stronger than we think we are and that we will all get through this difficult time.

Keep going and keep strong, everyone!

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Creative Pieces

The Night They Knew: A Scene.

liz

Camilo Jose Vergara | By Night in Brooklyn | 1

— Spring 2026 —

It’s a calm and clear night, even in a neighborhood that’s not the safest to be in at this time of the hour. An 18-year-old girl with curly red-hair, Mollie, is cautiously walking on the sidewalk; this is her first time coming to this part of town at night before. She looks behind her to see if there’s anyone following her and she doesn’ dare take out her cell phone while she’s out either. She knows where she’s going, and she’s hoping to get there fast. 

She finally reaches her destination; a small little apartment on the side of a complex. She knocks on the door and within seconds, a boy answers the door; an 18-year-old boy with wavy dirty blonde hair and the deepest blue of eyes, Weston. He smiles at Mollie, and invites her in. 

Weston: I really appreciate you coming all the way here, but we could’ve just went to your place if you wanted to.

Mollie: My mom is home for the night; I told her I was going to the movies with Milo.

Weston: *concerned* But isn’t Milo your sister’s stepson? Won’t they still find out?

Mollie: *laughs* There’s nothing for you to worry about. We got this. We’ve been doing this for years.

Weston playfully raises his eyebrows as Mollie sticks out her tongue at him; he’s glad that she’s here. 

Mollie: But I gotta say, your neighborhood at night is freaky. How do you guys do it?

Weston: We just got used to it. Once people know you belong in the neighborhood, they don’t bother you. It’s only when they don’t recognize you.

Mollie: Ah, so, me?

Weston: *playfully* I think you came here enough times for everyone to know you down this block.

Mollie: Don’t say it like that! It makes me sound slutty or something.

Weston: What? Can’t two friends just enjoy each other’s company without it being sexual?

Mollie looks at Weston, who is clearly playing with her emotions. They’re friends, but they both know they really like (more like love) each other, yet they don’t want to admit it. Mollie wants him, but she’s afraid to drag him in her world of self-destruction. She knows Weston is so much better with another “put together” girl in their grade, yet she can’t seem to get away from him, and neither can he.

Mollie: *plays back* I don’t know, can they?

Weston is caught off-guard from Mollie’s response; oof. This definitely the first time he’s ever had a girl over his place at this time of night, and Mollie’s snarky responses is not helping the situation at hand. 

While Weston was still in thought, Mollie walks throughout the living room to see the pictures hanging on the wall; she never noticed them in detail before.

Mollie: You used to play baseball as a kid?

Weston walks over to Mollie, and looks up at the wall of pictures with her. 

Weston: That’s my brother, Mason. He was the athletic one when we were younger. *points at another picture* That was me.

A picture with a geeky kid in glasses holding a game controller in his hands is shown.

Mollie: *holds in laughter* Oh! You were… so cool.

Mollie bursts out laughing and Weston nudges her a bit.

Weston: Hey! We all have our awkward phases! Mine just so happened a little later in life… at 12.

Mollie: Hey, mine was 14. Braces and tangled hair and scraped knees from dancing.

Weston: You used to dance?

Mollie: *sighs* Still do.

Weston: *wonders* Then what are you doing in the vocal program? *catches himself* Not that I’m saying you can’t sing, because you sing better than anyone else in the class, and–

Mollie: *laughs* Thanks, Wes. Dancing has been more of an outlet rather than something I wanted to do in school and hate it, y’know? I’ve danced for most of my life, and it’s always been a sacred thing for me. Nobody at the school knows that I dance besides Milo. I just didn’t want to be in a program where all the girls are snobby and rich and can afford to be in such a tedious program. So, I just decided to go into the vocal one instead.

Weston: I mean, you should be doing what you want to do though, Mol.

Mollie: And I am, just not at school.

Weston looks at Mollie while she continues to look at the wall. He takes in her beauty; the concentration on her face looking at the photos on the wall, possibly wondering about his past as much as he wonders about hers. She then looks at Weston, then back at another photo on the wall.

Mollie: *points* Was this you back in San Francisco?

Weston: Yeah. Mason and I had to have been like 4-years-old in that picture. *looks closer* That used to be my favorite dinosaur toy. I took that thing with me everywhere.

Mollie: Aww, did you like dinosaurs as a kid?

Weston: No, it was the last thing my father gave to me before he left.

Mollie looked at Weston as he kept staring at the picture.

Mollie: It seems like when they give you such a nice gift, it’s never just a gift. There’s always some “but” involved. “Here’s a pair of earrings, but dad’s not gonna be there for your birthday.” 

Weston: *looks at Mollie* Your present was a pair of earrings?

Mollie places her hair behind her ear and shows Weston the tiny hoop earrings. Weston reaches out to touch one of them on her ear. She doesn’t move, nor does he. Nothing is said, they just look at each other for a moment.

Mollie: At least you were able to let go of your last present; your past.

Mollie finds herself too exposed and tries to guard her feelings and vulnerable side. She snaps out of the thought and walks over to the couch.

Mollie: So, Milo told me that Sophie is having her birthday party in two weeks; I really hope her plastic friends don’t cause a scene, like, can we just be cordial for the sake of our friends?

Weston walks to the couch to sit next to Mollie. 

Weston: Mol.

Mollie: I mean, technically I wasn’t invited because of her friends but hello Milo is my best friend and I’m not about to let him just walk into a party without no backup like those bitches are evil and–

Weston: *snaps in front of Mollie’s face* Mollie.

Mollie: *widens eyes* Huh?

Weston: You don’t have to pretend with me. I know that talking about your family just now was a lot for you to do, and that’s okay if that’s all you want to talk about. Thank you for trusting me enough to hear even a portion of your history.

Mollie is at a loss for words.

Mollie: *defensive* So just because I tell you two little lousy secrets of mine you think you know what’s best for me?

Weston: *confused* Wait, what?

Mollie: I don’t need you thinking that I’m this broken, damaged person that needs someone to fix them or save them. I’m not broken, I don’t need to be found or fixed, I’m perfectly fine! So just stop trying to just be so understanding because you’re just lying to yourself. Everyone has.

Weston looks at Mollie with the most confused look on his face. What just happened? What is she saying?

Weston: Mollie, I’m not trying to save you or fix you or do anything to change you.

Mollie looks back at Mollie; unsure and worried.

Weston: There’s more to you than your past, Mol. I’m not here to figure you out or to take your past and use it against you. I’m here for this version of you. The present you. The one that is funny, and spunky, and such a badass. The one that’s an awesome fucking friend and bandmate and would do anything for the people she loves. The one sitting right in front of me, at this moment.

Weston turns his body towards Mollie to give her his undivided attention.

Weston: I’m here for you, and I’ll listen to you whenever you’re ready to share your story, Mol.

Weston makes the first move and gets closer to Mollie. She stays put, but watches Weston get closer. She’s not protesting. Weston gently cups her face with his hands and kisses her. She kisses him back. After their first kiss, they look at each other intently. 

Mollie: Did we just… ?

Weston: Yeah.

Mollie gets up from the couch and starts to panic. She’s pacing back and forth and Weston gets up and tries to calm her down.

Weston: Mol, hey, hey, it’s okay-

Mollie: We can’t do this, I can’t fuck this up, you’re the best fucking thing to happen to me and I can’t fuck that up, I-

Weston kisses Mollie again and her body instantly calms down. This time the kiss is deeper and more passionate; it lasts longer than the first. When they break up the kiss, Mollie is silent. Weston still caresses his hands on her face.

Weston: You’re the best fucking thing to happen to me, Mollie Sue Castro.

He takes control and they start making out. Mollie completely sinks into Weston’s touch until she starts leading him towards his room. The kiss doesn’t break until they reach the door. They pause and look at each other to see if the other person is okay about what’s going to happen next. Weston pushes the bedroom door open and they practically fall in the room.

Mollie and Weston are now standing in the front door. Weston is wearing a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie without a t-shirt on, while Mollie’s once-tamed-curly-hair is now tied up in a messy bun. 

Mollie: Tonight was great, Wes. Thank you.

Weston: I honestly should be thanking you, if anything.

Mollie nudges Weston as they laugh; still the same old people.

Mollie: Seriously though, thank you for just even… seeing me for who I am in this moment.

Weston: That’s the you that matters most… but man, I hope I get to see the you that was in my bed 30 minutes ago again. 

Mollie covers her face with her hands as she shakes her head; Weston hugs her for reassurance.

Mollie: What am I going to do with you, Weston?

Weston: *pulls away from the hug to look at Mollie* Whatever you’d like to do, Mol.

Mollie looks at Weston with an endearing look and then takes a hand to his face.

Mollie: Can’t stay away from the dirty jokes, huh?

She gently pats him on the cheek; Weston laughs – same old Mollie, yet a little more open and calmer.

Mollie begins to put her sweater on to get herself ready to go home; it’s extremely late into the night. Weston notices the thin material of Mollie’s sweater and offers her one of his.

Weston: It may be Spring, but the night still screams Winter.

Mollie: And what am I suppose to say to my mom when I mysteriously come home with another person’s hoodie?

Weston: Tell her it’s Milo’s; sure his taste is not as great as mine, but it’ll do for the time being.

Mollie: *laughs* I’m so telling him you said that.

Weston: Hey, he knows it’s true.

They both laugh and look at each other for a moment. Mollie takes in a deep breath nervously. 

Mollie: Well, I should get going, it’s gonna be a long train ride home.

Weston: Mol, are you sure you don’t want me to call you an Uber? It’s really no big deal.

Mollie: I’m a big girl, Wes. The night-time doesn’t scare me.

Weston: As long as you’re sure. *kisses Mollie one last time* Call me when you get home.

Mollie: I gotcha.

Mollie opens up the door and walks out; she waves at Weston as she walks down the stoop and onto the sidewalk. Weston smiles at Mollie and then closes the door. 

Mollie walks down the block towards the train station. She’s about to put in her headphones until she hears a group of guys in front of her, looking at her:

Street Guy #1: Hey pretty mama, whatcha doing out here at this time of night? Looking for a date?

Mollie ignores the guy like she usually does whenever someone cat-calls her. It is New York City after all.

The guys get up from where they are sitting and try to stop Mollie in her tracks.

Street Guy #2: Yo honey, my mans asked you a question.

Mollie: *annoyed* Look, I don’t want any trouble tonight, just leave me alone.

Street Guy #1: We ain’t here to cause trouble either, sweetheart, we’re looking for a good time *laughs with the other two guys*

Mollie: Well, go find your good time with someone else, because it’s not with me, asshole.

Street Guy #1: A little feisty one, aren’t you? Even better.

The three guys surround Mollie now in the middle of the empty street, Mollie’s tough demeanor is now weakening with fear. She tries to keep her eyes on all three guys just in case they try to do anything funny. One comments on the length of her dress and grabs to grab it.

Street Guy #3: Any girl wearing a short little dress like this is asking for it, baby.

Mollie: I said leave me the fuck alone!

The three guys continue to laugh until Mollie’s fight response kicks in. She punches one of the street guys in the face so hard, it knocks him on the ground. As soon as he hits the ground, she runs down the block and the guys run after her. 

Street Guy: #1: Get back here you bitch!

Mollie is now fully in panic, she runs back down the block that Weston lives on in hopes that she can reach it before it’s too late. The guys are nearly behind Mollie now, and she’s afraid the worst is yet to come. Thankfully, Weston’s house is just seconds away and when she reaches the front door, she’s banging on it like her life depended on it, because it did.

Mollie: Weston, please! Open the door, open the door!

A few seconds later, Weston opens the door and Mollie pushes herself inside. She pushes the door shut and she starts to cry. 

Weston: Mollie, are you okay? What happened?

Mollie: *hysterical* These guys are after me, they tried to–  they–

The front door is now banging non-stop. Angry voices of the guys are heard from outside. Mollie holds her head in her arms, trying to stop herself from hearing the guys yelling. 

Weston: *crouches down* Mollie, it’s okay, you’re safe now, they can’t hurt you.

One of the guys outside is heard screaming “That bitch is gonna get hers! When you come back out here bitch, you ain’t never coming back out in these streets!” Weston gets extremely angry hearing the guys outside and decides to take matters in his own hands. He goes into the closet to take out a baseball bat. Mollie realizes what Weston is about to do.

Mollie: No! Don’t do it, Weston, it’s not worth it, they’ll go away!

Weston doesn’t hear Mollie speak. He just opens the door and walks out.

Mollie: Weston!

Mollie gets up from the floor and opens the front door to get Weston. She stands at the entrance and watches Weston walk up to the three guys.

Weston: Y’all think ya tough trying to beat up a woman?! Fight someone your own damn size, punks!

Mollie runs down the stoop stairs and follows Weston. She runs after him.

Mollie: Weston! Stop!

Once Mollie reaches Weston, he’s surrounded by the three guys in a fighting stance. He’s swinging the bat trying to hit one of them until one of them sneaks up behind him and knocks him to the floor. All three guys are ganging up on him. Mollie screams and runs towards the scene until she seems a tall man running from the other direction towards the scene.

Tall Man: Hey! Get the hell outta here before I call the cops!

The guys run away from the scene and Weston is still on the ground. Mollie runs towards Weston in a panic; he’s in really bad shape. The tall man stands around Weston on the phone with the cops.

Mollie: Weston, please. Please wake up.

Weston doesn’t move or open his eyes. Mollie holds Weston in her arms, covered in his blood, waiting for the ambulance to come. 

 

— The End —

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Overexposed: A Self-Love Project.

Overexposed: About My Future.

liz

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I always challenge myself, possibly because I never think the work I do is enough for my satisfaction or because I know that I can do whatever I put myself through.

When I was a college student pursuing a BA degree, a Master’s degree seemed to be out of the equation. I wanted to further my studies, but I didn’t know if I ever would take that step towards going to graduate school. When I got accepted into the MA program within my college, I felt like it was meant to be; I was meant to go forward and continue my studies and get the MA degree that I always spoke about getting.

In 2016, I started grad school. In 2018, I finished and got my MA degree. I should feel accomplished. I should feel like I conquered the one thing that I wanted to do within my studies. I should feel like I’m qualified enough, that I know enough, that what I have and learned is enough to succeed within the field I want to be in.

Hi, my name is Liz, and I’m going through a hard, long conversation with myself about getting a Ph.D. in Rhetoric & Composition.

I’m fucking crazy, just say it. 

While in grad school, I told myself that I was going to move to get my Ph.D. after my Master’s, but with the exhaustion and poor mental health I experienced because of grad school, it told me otherwise. My Master’s was enough, and the experience I had as a grad student is something I will always feel good about because I did it, but I gained much more than just a new, shiny, degree. I gained a passion.

My mentor, Ro, and I have been working on writing a journal article this last month. It has been a project we discussed doing ever since I was a Teacher’s Assistant for her graduate class, and with the current COVID-19 circumstances, we decided to use this time to write and get something published. During the time I’m writing this, we are in the final stages of our official draft before we submit it to the journal we’ve been thinking of submitting it to! I don’t know if it was because we had all the time in the world to write this, but it took us literally a week to complete a full first rough draft, and for me – it was rewarding. Not only will the context of my thesis will be published in an actual academic journal, but this is ultimately the path I want to take in life! I want to be a part of the conversations happening in this field.

But, I still feel like I don’t belong.

I feel like my voice and my ideas are still so underdeveloped and immature; I still remain hopeful in a field that hasn’t really changed since it started. Sure, the ideas and the philosophies in this field have become more progressive and modern to fit its time, but it’s one thing to talk about it and then be about it, as Asao Inoue discussed in his CCCC 2019 Keynote Speech. In a field with so many voices speaking at once, I wonder where mine would even fit in. Is my register loud enough to be heard? Am I just living in a fantasy world where I fit in this field? I don’t know.

To some degree, I explained this to Ro during our phone conversation discussing about our article. One thing Ro does best is always reminds me that my voice matters, and my ideas are just as important as anyone else’s. Particularly in this article, she went on to say that my section of the article brings life to it because I’m new, I’m fresh, and I have something to say as someone who is new in this field. Ro is my mentor for a reason; she embodies where I want to be in my life career wise. Being as young as she is and as accomplished as she is, it’s definitely inspirational to see someone as successful and so driven in this field. Plus, she’s just an awesome person in general, and I’m grateful for her presence and professional guidance in my life.

It’s interesting (and motivational) to hear that I’m considered a new, fresh face in this community of writing studies. It surely doesn’t feel it, and I feel like I have a lot more reading and research to do on my side of things, but just hearing that to some degree, with some expertise, I know what this field of study is. Still, I’m not satisfied with what I know. I want to know more. I want to do more. I want to be more.

Pursing a PhD isn’t just something to take lightly, so I’m not writing this and applying for PhD programs as we speak. It’s just something I’ve been thinking about further down the road or when I feel like I’m ready. Maybe I’ll never be ready, maybe I’ll be ready sooner than later; who knows. If there’s anything that being in this space during quarantine has taught me, it’s that once my time at the bookstore is over (not anytime soon, but also I don’t plan to stay there forever), I know where my next step in my career is going.

Maybe I am enough. Maybe my Masters degree is enough to pursue a career in this field (or just a field where I’m helping college students… even teaching may be down the line), but maybe my voice and passion and drive to be in this field is enough.

Maybe me, in its purest form, is enough, despite how much I say I’m not.

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Creative Pieces

The Awkward Encounter: A Scene.

liz

A family of four and a guest sir at the dining room table, having dinner on a Saturday evening. A mother and father, Sophie and Milo, a 20-year old girl and her boyfriend, Summer and Evan, and a 12-year-old boy, Emerson. Light chatter and the clanking of forks and glass cups surround the small dining area. 

The atmosphere is broken when the doorbell rings. 

Sophie: Were you expecting someone, Milo?

Milo: Not that I know of…

Milo gets up from the table and walks towards the front door.

Milo: Jennifer and my dad aren’t coming until next Sunday for dinner…

Milo opens the door and is taken back by who’s at the door. A tall, skinny redhead in a wool coat is standing there; she’s Milo’s forever best friend, Mollie. Milo hasn’t seen Mollie ever since she left NYC 12 years ago to live out her dream of being a dancer. She’s traveled the world, dance for the elites, made a name out of herself, but it cost her her marriage and the child she left behind. Once Mollie left, most of her family shunned her away due to the poor choice she made to leave her child behind. Milo has been the only one that’s willing to talk to her throughout these years. 

Milo: M- Mollie.

Mollie: Hey, Milo.

Awkward silence. In the distance, Sophie is heard yelling at Milo, “who is it, hun?” until she walks to the door behind Milo and sees who it is. She is just in shock to see Mollie as Milo is. 

Sophie is now cleaning the kitchen after dinner and the kids are doing their own thing around the house. Milo and Mollie sit at the dining room table across from each other, not saying anything. Mollie is in deep thought, trying to say what she wants to say in this conversation, while Milo sits there speechless. 

Mollie: So, uhm… how’s everyone doing?

Milo: Everyone’s doing good. The kids are okay, Soph’s okay… how about you? It’s been a while, huh?

Mollie rolls her eyes and sighs; Milo knows when to get right over the bullshit. 

Mollie: I’m sorry I haven’t called for a while. Things got really crazy when I was in India for this production.

Milo: Wasn’t that gig like 4 months ago?

Mollie: *sighs* Milo…

Milo: I’m just stating the facts, Mol. You know I worry about you.

Mollie: *annoyed* I’m a grown woman, Milo, we aren’t kids anymore.

Milo: So why are you here?

Mollie looks at Milo dumbfounded.

Mollie: Why are you acting like that?

Milo: Look, Mollie, I haven’t seen you in person for 12 years. My kids don’t even know who you are and you show up here in the middle of our dinner where Sophie and I was meeting my daughter’s boyfriend for the first time?

Mollie: Sum-Summer has a boyfriend?

Milo: *cold* Summer is 20-years-old, Mol. She’s not the little kid you remember her as.

Mollie takes in the reality on how long she’s truly been gone. 

Mollie: You are the only person I could talk to, Milo. I haven’t spoken to my mom or Jennifer or Maryette in years; they want nothing to do with me and–

Milo: *interrupts* What made you come back? Why now?

Mollie: *sullenly* I can’t competively dance anymore. I broke one of my bones in my foot and I had to retire. I’m simply back to start my life over.

Milo: *srunches eyebrows* Listen, I respect you coming back to start your life over, but don’t you think it’s a little too late?

Mollie: *angrily* And who gave you the right to dictate whether or not it’s too late, huh?

Milo: Mollie, Weston doesn’t live in New York anymore. He moved to Virginia with your daughter.

Mollie: Who said anything about Weston or my daughter?

Milo is now confused. Did he miss something?

Milo: Aren’t you back in New York for them?

Mollie: No, I’m not.

Milo gets up from the table and circles around a bit; Mollie doesn’t move.

Milo: So let me get this straight… You come back to New York to start your life over, y’know, live like one of us normal folk, but don’t want to make things right with your family?

Mollie is about to say something until Milo cuts her off.

Milo: And I’m not talking about your mom, or your sisters, and not even with Weston; I’m talking about your daughter, Mol.

Mollie: What am I supposed to say? “Hi, you’re a whole ass 12-year-old girl now but I’m the mother that chose her career over you and now that’s over and done with, I want to be back in your life”?

Milo: It’s a damn start!

Mollie gets up from the table to be face-to-face with Milo; she’s now even more angry.

Mollie: No, it’s not. You don’t know how Weston is going to react if I just show up in bubblefuck Virginia and demand to see my daughter. I have no custody over her, technically I don’t exist in their world and I would rather it say that way. Why hurt the one person I wish I didn’t hurt even more by showing up in her life and force her to love and respect me just because I’m her mother. I would rather her live her life the way she’s living it without me in it; she doesn’t need me ruining her damn life.

Mollie turns back around towards the table to gather her purse in order to leave the house.

Milo: Mollie, wait.

Mollie stands near the front door and rools her eyes. She turns around to look at Milo. Milo walks up to her. 

Milo: I’m sorry, Mollie. You know I won’t ever understand what happened between you and Weston. It just upsets me because I could never imagine my life without my kids. You know the hardships Sophie and I went through when Summer was born. We were just kids ourselves–

Mollie: I wasn’t ready to have a child yet–

Milo: You think I was ready at 18, Mol? You were 25–

Mollie gets her coat from the coat hanger.

Mollie: It was a stupid idea to come here, just forget it.

Milo: *yells* Can you just listen to me for once, Mollie?

They both stand there in silence. No noise in the house is present either.

Milo: Mollie, I fucking care about you. You’ve been my best friend since we were babies, I’m only frustrated at you because you keep running away from the things that matter the most. I get it, you don’t want to cause confusion and give off mixed feelings towards your daughter, but she also deserves to know the truth and she deserves to know that deep down in that thick skull of yours, you constantly think about her every single day and hope she’s doing fine. Now I don’t know why you came here first out of all the people you should be making amends with, but–

Mollie: I need a place to stay, Milo. I don’t have nowhere else to go and you’re the only one that gives a shit about me. I don’t have anyone else.

Milo is taken back by Mollie’s words; he’s speechless.

Mollie: Please, Milo. We’ve always had each other’s backs. I know I haven’t been the greatest person in a while, but I can’t do this on my own. All the money I had went towards my hospital bills and the plane ticket back here, I just want to be able to get on my feet, but I need your help.

Milo takes in a deep breath.

Milo: Mollie…

Mollie: I will not be here long, Milo. I promise I will not overstay my welcome and try to be out of your hair as soon as possible.

Milo: I’ll talk to Sophie about it.

Mollie hugs Milo and Milo is taken back. Mollie isn’t the lovey-dovey type of person.

Mollie: Thank you so so so so much, Milo!

Milo: *smiles* Yeah, yeah… You know I gotchu, but you’re going to need a job if you’re looking to get out of here quick.

Mollie puts her coat back on the coat hanger and tosses her purse on the sofa.

Mollie: Oh, which reminds me, I have a job interview at our old high-school! They’re looking for a dance teacher!

Milo: *wides widen* Wait, what?!

Mollie: Yeah! I wonder if your dad still works there, remember when we had them for chorus class? Man, that must’ve been awkward for you, Milo.

Mollie goes to sit back down at the dining room table where she has left her cup of coffee. Milo is still standing there in awe.

Milo: My father doesn’t work there anymore. I do.

Mollie spits out her coffee in shock. She wipes her mouth and looks at Milo, who is also looking at Mollie. 

Aren’t they going to have some adventures together, huh?

— The End —