Sometimes I can hear my bones straining under the weight of the life I’m not living.

– Unknown

On Mood Disorders and the Writing Process

What? Have You Never Seen A Woman Before?

Street harassment. I have seen a number of articles and videos about this topic recently. Street harassment is defined as unwelcome words and actions by unknown persons in public places which are motivated by gender and invade a person’s physical and emotional space in a disrespectful, creepy, startling, scary, or insulting way. This happens to women on the daily basis, it happens to men as well. It’s disgusting and it makes me sick. I have experienced this countless times. Have been street harassed since I was in the second grade. At recess one day I was playing on the playground and had a run in with another kid. I was climbing up the stairs and a boy grabbed my butt. To make things worse he said “That feels good”. I turned around and he was grinning. I was really upset. When recess was over I raised my hand in class while we were doing independent worksheets. I told my teacher what happened and who had done it. She was not pleased at all, which is expected. I had never seen her get that angry ever. She pulled the boy aside and asked him “Did you touch Kaila’s butt during recess?” He said no and continued to deny what he had done. That enraged me even more. It’s scary that there are children already exhibiting this unacceptable behavior in elementary school. Women get “checked out” whenever they walk down the street. It doesn’t make sense to me. Everyone has a butt, so I don’t see what all the fascination is about. I understand that some people’s butts are bigger than others, but that doesn’t mean that you have to stare at them. Guys have craned their necks, turned all the around and leaned out of car windows to look at my butt. Yes, I have a big butt. I know it, you know it, everyone that knows that. Just because it’s big doesn’t give you the right to stare at it. Yes, it makes me uncomfortable and just because I’m not looking at you doesn’t mean that I don’t know that you’re staring at it. It makes pisses me off so much. I’m conscious of everything I wear. There is literally nothing I can wear that doesn’t make my butt look big. It’s really frustrating because I don’t like getting the looks and hearing the unwanted comments. I can’t do anything about the structure of my body, so why make me feel uncomfortable about it. I went rollerblading this past week and I was wearing workout leggings. I was going past this guy when he turned and said something along the lines of “We see you”, but I didn’t hear everything that he said since I was listening to music. He might have been referring to going out and exercising, but more than likely he was talking about my body. It’s impossible to escape it. It’s everywhere and people make excuses for it. The way they were dressed, the way they walked, the way that they act, and the famous “boys will be boys”. Making excuses for such behavior is ridiculous.  There is no excuse for making someone feel uncomfortable or invading their space. It just doesn’t make sense. Today, my family went to the zoo for my niece’s birthday. We were sitting down waiting for my brother and his girlfriend and this older guy and his friend were staring at us. What the hell are you staring so hard for? We are all at least half your age and want nothing to do with you. Of course, it made us uncomfortable. I really wanted to be rude and say “Can I help you asshole?” I can’t stand when people do that. Why do people think that’s ok? It pisses me off. It’s disgusting. Think of your daughters, sisters, wives, mothers, etc. Would you want someone talking to them in a manner like that? …Yeah, that’s what I thought.

I wrote this in print and all caps. I have no idea why I did that, but I did. May 30, 2012

I’M NOT ALWAYS HAPPY
BUT ITS NOT JUST THE MOOD
ITS MY SKIN
MY BODY
MY COMPLEXION
ITS WHO I AM
SOMETIMES I LOOK IN THE MIRROR AND WONDER
“WHY AM I LIKE THIS?” OR “WHO IS THIS GIRL?”
SOMETIMES I JUST FEEL LIKE A VOICE SITTING IN A
FOREIGN BODY
I FEEL LIKE THIS BODY DOES NOT BELONG TO ME
I FEEL LIKE I DON’T BELONG
AND I HAVE NO PLACE TOGO
SOMETIMES I THINK THAT I LOOK REALLY PRETTY
OTHER TIMES I THINK THAT I LOOK LIKE I SHOULD NEVER
LEAVE THE HOUSE
PEOPLE OCCASIONALLY TELL ME THAT I’M “PRETTY”
BUT I NEVER BELIEVE THEM
AS MUCH AS I TRY TO FIGHT IT THIS THOUGHT IS ALWAYS
AT THE BACK OF MY MIND
“YOU’RE NOT PRETTY” “THEY’RE LYING” “YOUR NOT WORTH THE TIME”
I HAVE PUSHED GUYS AWAY
THEY GENUINELY LIKED ME
BUT EVERY TIME THEY TOLD ME THAT I WAS
“BEAUTIFUL” “GORGEOUS” OR “PRETTY”
I AUTOMATICALLY ASSUMED THAT THEY WERE LYING
THERE HAS NEVER BEEN A GOOD LOOKING GUY OR
POPULAR GUY THAT HAS THOUGHT ME AS ATTRACTIVE
THERE WAS ONE
BUT HE HURT ME INA LITTLE WAY THAT WILL STAY
WITH ME FOREVER
HE TOLD ME THAT HE LIKED ME
AND I SAID THAT’S COOL BECAUSE I LIKE YOU TOO
SO WE GOT A LOT CLOSER
WE WOULD TALK FOR HOURS
HOLD HANDS
HE’D HUG ME
THEN CAME THE DREADED WORDS
“I THINK WE’D BE BETTER OFF AS FRIENDS”
I DIDN’T THINK THAT A SMALL AMOUNT OF WORDS
COULD HURT THAT MUCH
I FELT LIKE I HAD BEEN HIT BY A TRUCK
I DIDN’T EXPECT THAT
ESPECIALLY HIM OF ALL PEOPLE
THEN I STATED TO THINK
“WAS IT ANOTHER GIRL?”
“DID HE THINK THAT IT WAS A MISTAKE?”
“WAS HE JOKING THE WHOLE TIME?”
A COUPLE DAYS LATER ONE OF HIS GOOD FRIENDS
A GIRL FOUND ME
AND SHE ASKED ME IF I WAS KAILA
I TOLD HER YES, I’M KAILA

SHE SAID “YOU KNOW HE HAS A BIG CRUSH ON YOU”
I JUST LOOKED AT HER AND SAID OH REALLY?
HE SAID THAT WE’D BE BETTER OFF AS FRIENDS
I DON’T REMEMBER WHAT WAS SAID AFTER THAT
BUT IT DOESN’T MATTER
BECAUSE I’LL NEVER TRULY TRUST A GUY AGAIN
I JUST THINK THAT I’M NOT WORTH THEIR TIME
THAT HAS MESSED ME UP INSIDE
I’VE BECOME SUCH AN UGLY PERSON OVER THE YEARS
I’VE BEEN MEAN AND CRUEL
I’VE HURT PEOPLE’S FEELINGS AND COULDN’T
HAVE CARED LESS
I’VE TALKED ABOUT PEOPLE WITHOUT THINKING
TWICE
I CAN’T BELIEVE THAT I’VE BEEN SUCH
A MONSTER
BECAUSE I’VE BEEN TEASED AND MADE FUN OF
BULLIED AND TALKED ABOUT, RUMORS SPREAD
AND PUT DOWN
SOMETIMES BY MY OWN FAMILY
MY BROTHERS MADE FUN OF MY TEETH
SAYING “ONE DAY THEY’LL OPEN UP LIKE ODORS”
AND MY BIG FOREHEAD
SOMETIMES I WOULD LAUGH WITH THEM AND
I WOULD CRY IN MY ROOM
MOST TIMES I WOULD HANG MY HEAD KEEP
MY EYES ON MY PLATE AND EAT MY FOOD IN
SILENCE
IT WAS LIKE A NEVER ENDING PAIN
THAT I THOUGHT WOULD NEVER GO AWAY
I WOULD GO IN MY ROOM AND CRY
WISHING THAT I COULD MAGICALLY BECOME
“PRETTY” LIKE EVERYONE PRAISED MY COUSIN FOR
BEING
SOMETIMES I JUST WISHED THAT I WOULD
DISAPPEAR
WHEN I WAS YOUNGER I WAS NEVER REALLY TOLD
THAT I WAS “PRETTY” OR “CUTE”
AND ITS SOMETHING I’VE GROWN UP BELIEVING
EVEN THOUGHT PEOPLE TELL ME THAT NOW
ITS NOT THE “PRETTY” I WANT TO BE CALLED
IF A GUY TELLS ME THAT I’M “PRETTY” OR “LOOK NICE” ITS BECAUSE THEY’RE LOOKING AT MY BODY
IF A GIRL TELLS ME THAT I “LOOK PRETTY” OR
“YOU LOOK SO CUTE!”
THEY’RE LOOKING AT THE OUTFIT I HAVE ON
THAT DAY MY EARRINGS OR MY SHOES
I JUST DON’T THINK I CAN TAKE IT
I DON’T KNOW HOW TO ACCEPT COMPLIMENTS
SINCE I DON’T USUALLY GET MANY
I’M STARTING TO JUST SMILE AND SAY
THANK YOU AND KEEP GOING ABOUT
THIS CRAZY LIFE I CAN BARELY MAKE SENSE OF F
ALL I CAN DO IS WISH THAT ONE DAY I CAN
BE COMFORTABLE IN MY OWN SKIN
FIND MYSELF
DEAL WITH COMPLIMENTS
TRUST GUYS
AND BE TRULY HAPPY WITH MYSELF
BUT WHO KNOWS WHEN THAT DAY’LL COME

Strong

I wrote this one during junior year. December 19, 2011 at 8:21pm

It’s hard, having to be strong all the time, keeping
a face as cold as the teeth chattering Chicago snows.
Being told that to show emotions and to wear
your heart on your sleeve is for those who are foolish
and trust me I don’t want to be one of those
So I suck it up and roll with the punches
even the ones that hurt so bad they make you double over and cry out
in pain
It drives me insane! Because that’s not me
well not the real one at lest, it has caused me to
forget the real me
and the me that I want me to be
I’m looking for that someone who can help bring
back the me I once aspired to be
and will love that me unconditionally
unlike that one you that created me
who caused me to be this undesirable me
that I’m sick of controlling me
It’s time for me to break free from this me
Because it’s my life and I’m gonna live it how I want
because its for me

Oh lord

Oh lord. Just glancing at this one, I know exactly what it was about. Actually, it’s pretty funny looking back on it now. So here’s the story. It was the summer before I started high school and my mom had signed me up for a class that helps you get to know the school and learn skills that we would need for our first year. So there was this really cute guy in my class. He was tall, smart, played basketball and volleyball, played the bass in orchestra, and had gorgeous blue eyes. Out of all the girls that were freaking out over him, he decided to talk to me and it was awesome. When it came down to business he ended up telling me that he thought that we would be better off as friends… That is possibly one of the worst lines that you could use on anyone. It was the worst feeling in the world. Now, having been through high school and into college, I know that it was a good thing even though it didn’t feel like it at the time. Here’s the sad and heartbroken teenage girl poem. July 20, 2009

If my love were an ocean,
there would be no more land.
If my love were a desert,
you would see only sand.
If my love were a star-
late at night, only light.
And if my love could grow wings,
I’d be soaring in flight.
That’s how I felt when we
liked each other
Love had knocked me down
but I got back up so I could be
Face to face
I had fallen
in love with you
Then love’s wings disappeared
its star burned out
Its desert blown away
and its ocean dried up
Because love died
along with our relationship
You killed two things that day
my hopes and our love
It’s killing me
because we’re done
and
Love is dead
A dream we never had

I was Skinny then but now I’m Fat

March 10, 2008…

Back when I was skinny she was
the one I would talk to
She would tell me that I was pretty
and it would be okay
But now I’m fat and she is not the one I talk to
Now she is telling me that I”m
getting big and they don’t make pretty clothes for big people
And I just sit there and listen
to her deadly words
Trying not to cry
But I go to my room at night
and I cry myself to sleep.
It makes me feel that I”m not good enough, pretty enough or
small enough.
And I say if I stop eating
you’re going to tell me to eat
And if I do eat you’re going
to say I’m fat
These are the effects
of her toxic words

It’s sort of hard for me to read that. When I wrote that, I was 13 years old. Here’s the back story to that. In sixth grade I was 60 pounds…60 pounds. In seventh grade I was 70 pounds. Then eighth grade rolled around and I was 135 pounds. Over the course of a year I gained 65 pounds. That was a hard time for me. I was a dorky kind, with glasses and in band. I had once been friends with the now popular girls, but now we didn’t even talk to each other. I had to give away 25 pairs of jeans because I had gone from around 3 or 5 to a 9 or 11. In retrospect it doesn’t seem like it was that bad for me. The kids at school didn’t tease me for it, which I am very thankful for. At home a family member made comments that made me feel terrible. I distinctly remember an incident where she made a comment that really upset me. I was going to go in the refrigerator and get some milk to drink and she said “You don’t need to be drinking no milk. You’re getting big.” What the hell does drinking milk have to do with me gaining weight? Can someone please explain that to me. I was so upset, that I put the milk back and went into my room and closed the door. I couldn’t believe that she had said that to me. Why would someone say something like that? I just don’t understand people. I still have issues that I have to work on, but I’m glad that those days are over.

Wrong

Wow, it’s been a long time since I’ve looked at this poem. To be honest, I don’t even remember when I wrote this. I want to say that I was in fifth or sixth grade, I’m leaning more towards sixth grade. This is crazy. Nevermind, after looking at this, I definitely wrote this in sixth grade. 

 

Why does everything around me seem

to be picture perfect

But me, the odd ball always wrong.

Everyone is kintted into a click thats

right for them, their never by themselves 

But me, I’m a different story

I’m almost by myself all the time

Being one of the only black girls on this end of the table does feel weird sometimes

My skin and hair different from theirs.

The oddball that vanishes into thin air

What Happened to Creative Writing?

Today, I random thought popped into my head. Why don’t I write anymore? I don’t mean writing like posting blogs, I mean creative writing. When I was younger I used to write all the time. I lived for the poetry and short story units in elementary school. English/Literary arts was always my favorite subject. I loved writing and creating stories. I used to be so good at it. The poetry that I wrote in elementary school was more upbeat and happy, if I remember correctly. In middle school my poems were more about pain and my insecurities. I remember showing one of my poems to my friend Timerra and she teared up a little. After sixth or seventh grade, I lost my ability. I would want to write and when I tried it didn’t feel the same. Things didn’t come spelling out of my brain and onto the paper anymore. The river of ideas in my mind had run dry. It was so hard for me. Failing attempt after failing attempt made me start to hate writing. I loathed having writing prompts in my English classes in high school, because I couldn’t think of anything. It was the absolute worst feeling every. I don’t know why I stopped writing. I’m sad that I stopped. I feel like I’ll never be able to write like that again. Maybe it’s because I’m not going through the same things that I was going through back then, or maybe I just grew up. I feel like if I try to write right now, it would feel weird and I would have no clue where to start. I wanted to be an author when I was younger and now I can’t even imagine doing that. Maybe some dreams aren’t meant to come true, I guess I’ll have to wait and see.

You’re Something Else

Last week I had an interesting conversation. A friend of mine has a brother that has been hitting on me since senior year of high school. I have told both of them that I’m not interested in him ( I was in a relationship for the major of the time). He sent me a message on Facebook that said “Sooo yu shud stop bein a stranger.n tune n sweetheart.” There are a couple of things that bother me about that sentence. The first thing that bothers me is that it looks like it was sent by a middle school student and not a high school graduate. The second thing, is that you called me sweetheart. I know I probably sound like a snob, but I do not like it when people that I do not know that well call something other than my name. We are not on the level as to where you can call me by such a name. The only people that call me something like that is: my boyfriend, my parents, anyone in my family and my close friends. I respond with “I have a boyfriend”, I already knew where he was going to go with this conversation. He asked me what that was supposed to mean and I was tempted not to reply. He knew exactly what that meant, so I just said “Nevermind” and he said “Soo tht mean yu aint tryna fwm”. I said yeah and he said “smh truu”, I asked “smh for what?” His response was “Cuz yu sumthin else but i respect n understand wea yu comin from”. That’s what pissed me off. What the hell is “…yu sumthin else…” supposed to mean? Are you mad that I won’t talk to you? Are you mad that I will not cheat on my boyfriend to mess around with you? Then, I thought of a response.
You know what, I am something else. I’m not what you expected. I have morals and goals for myself. I’m not one of those girls that you see sitting in the passenger seat of a car where the guy driving is blasting some crap music with a lot of bass. I’m a person that has intellectual conversations with her friends for fun. I’m an avid reader. I love photography. I like crafts and trying new things. I keep secrets. I help people whenever I can. I’m the kind of person that will help an elderly person load their groceries into their car. I spell check everything. It drives me crazy when people use the wrong form of your or there. I’m a feminist. I’m an ally of the LGBTQ community. I believe in God and read The Bible. So yeah, you can say that I”m something else.