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Stories of a Teenage Nothing Carly Button



“Here lies the soul of all writers Here lies the fate of all liars This is where you will be If you do not pray to thee.�




Table of Contents 1......Title Page 2......picture Laughter by Carly Button 3......Introductory Poem by Anonymous 4...... Picture by Carly Button 5......Dedication Page. 6......I am a Writer by Zakeyah Broadwater 7......Continued of I am a Writer 8......Formal? By Kate Uesugi 9......On the Bridge of Love by Carly Button 10......Traveling is a Dangerous Pasttime by Vivian Bently 11......Continuation of Traveling is a Dangerous Pasttime 12....Prom Night by Zoey Arakai 13....Its Real by Zakeyah Broadwater 14....Undying by Kelsi Taramae 15....Continuation of Undying 15....picture Sun by Kate Uesugi 16....Letter by Carly Button 17....Dont Be Afraid by Kate Uesugi 18....Leaves Fall by Kayla Economou 19....Skyfall by Fiona Rutgers 20....The Encounter by Sarah Li 21....Continuation of The Encounter 22....Summertime Hapiness by Kayla Economou 23....Regrets by Zakeyah Broadwater

This zine is dedicated to all the teenagers that enjoy taking pictures of themselves, watching cats,

and dream of meeting their one true love in a coffee shop and bonding over old romantic movies. 5


I am a Writer Zakeyah Broadwater Writing Empty pages I am a writer? Could I be a writer? Can my mind flow at an openly paste like a writer? Where I can spill my thoughts out on the pages all at once? Like I am doctor phil: bold, white guy, beard, smart enough where anything i say people will listen and take my advice. Could I really do something like that ? Would anyone even listen to what i have to say? Like two lovers. Your mom doesn’t like her? She doesn’t have too! You miss her? Than do something about it! You love her? Than let her know! Don’t keep playing these stupid childish games of tag where no one is going to win. As a writer, i shall show sympathy to the young and stupid. So lets do that again shall we? Letting out my inner doctor phil. Your mom doesn’t like her? Well in some cases, just talk to your mother. I am sure she has a excellent reason to be quote on quote “ruining your life”. But child, what life would this be that you are talking about? The life she gave you? the life she works hard to keep going? But its your life, you are right about that. Do what makes you happy, but do what is the right thing to do. You miss her? 6

So you come up with some elaborate plan where you sneak out of the house at 12:03 pm to lay in the slightly damp grass and count stars until you get lost in time and before you know it you’re cuddling with her, in her arms you lay. As the temperature drops and the wetness of the grass makes you shiver and she takes off her jacket and gives it to you. Knowing everything that you are doing is wrong and against all of your mother’s wishes, and just for that moment, being okay with it. Because all is pure and well, and life couldn’t be better. The moment when she leans down, and her lips touch yours, and fireworks go off in your head. And at that moment, you know you love her. You love her? Cherish her with your love! Simple as that. Doctor Phil, off. Teenage girl, on. Words on this paper, do not add up to a perfect love story. If you read it the right way you will feel the pain, of two lovers. Who are never meant to be, but they play around the rules. They are not as deadly as Romeo and Juliet, but there love is just as real. Thought by thought, i tell it how it is. Letting my mind run wild on this piece of paper, could you follow the plot? Do you see how i have grown as a writer, I could tell you anything and you would believe it, you could right this second believe i am in love, a secret deadly love. But is it true. Am i a writer, or am i a teenage lover? filled pages Of a writer.


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Formal? Kate Uesugi

On the bridge of love Carly Button 9

Traveling is a Dangerous Pasttime Vivian Bently Last week I made the worst decision in my short life. It all started with a trip to France. I was planning on doing it the economizer’s way: fly using a discount ticketed one-way ticket, staying at a cheap hotel, buses and trains for transport, and only buying the least expensive local food. After I first got off the plane there was a buzz of excitement through me, I was finally travelling. What many people aspire to do I am actually doing. With my currency already changed to Euro I caught the first bus to my motel. My bus stop approached quickly and when I got off I noticed a puppet show, I quickly hurried over to get a closer look. The puppet show was too old for me. The puppets were brightly colored and the jokes were in French, but it was so interesting to see something like that in a modern world full of electronics. After I was done watching I reached for my bag to give the show a tip but my purse wasn’t there. I looked around and neither was my baggage. Someone had stolen it. Everything I needed was in that bag, how was I supposed to get back to America now? I knew I should’ve taken my parents advice to try and not look like a tourist. But I got so caught up with everything: The smell of all the food vendors, the smiles of other tourists, the colors of all the shops, and even the familiar golden arches. Now I was on my own, the only items I still had was my phone—thank god—and my passport which I kept in deep the pockets of my bootlegged jeans. I tried to keep from panicking in the middle of a crowd. The last thing I wanted everyone to know is that I didn’t have any money or means, or place to stay or go. It would attract the wrong people. My mother had been worried about me flying alone from the beginning even though I was 20 years old; I guess she was right to be worried. I didn’t want to call and confirm her fears, I was sure I’d be out of their in no time. I have been working at a Job for a few long weeks trying to get enough money to get out of this place, but here’s the thing. I’m not getting paid—they keep on putting it off. Making excuses. I had a basic understanding of French before I left now I am getting better every day and something is very fishy. The work is moving boxes into a big loading truck. It’s grueling work.


Box after box the monotony is killing me. I’ve been keeping track of how much they owe me and it’s almost enough to get my plane ticket out of here. If I work this last day, these last few hours I’ll have enough. Then they’ll have to pay me. I’ve been working from early morning to late at night. I have to work until all the boxes are put into all the trucks. I have no idea what’s in those boxes but they do smell a little weird hopefully, it’s not drugs or anything illegal. If so then I’m out of here, right after I grab my paycheck. A man bursts through the doors, I recognize him as one of the guys who hired me. He has dark curly hair and angry eyes. I hope I didn’t do anything wrong, I just need this last day. “Where’s your phone?!” he yelled in French grabbing my wrist. “I don’t have it, you took it away from me remember, that way I wouldn’t be distracted on the job,” I said. So I couldn’t call for help I thought to myself. “I know you have it someone tipped them off. It was you! Is it because we weren’t paying you? Well now you won’t get paid ever! Hand me your passport.” He snarled in French I could now understand. “No,” I objected. I needed to run, I just didn’t know where. I wasn’t familiar with this area or really anywhere in France. My hope for payment had dulled me against how dangerous this was, how bad a decision it was to take a job I knew little about. It wasn’t this bad at first, and before I knew I was a frog in boiling water. This is when I heard the police sirens, I am safe. They are coming to rescue me. They will understand. I am American I’m not involved in whatever business this is. What a relief. My smile is growing the first one I’ve had since I’d gotten off that plane. “Get in the truck,” he said shattering my dreams by shoving me inside the half-loaded truck. I struggled, but even the strength I’d gotten from the weeks of hard labor wasn’t enough. The door shut with final metallic thud, I was trapped in the dark. I’m not saved. I thought as the truck began to start to some unknown destination.


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Prom Night Zoey Arakai

Its Real Zakeyah Broadwater 13 13

Undying Kelsi Teramae I realized I was in love with you one day, like really in love. Not just the simple kind of love that I could have for anybody--I realized I had fallen for you. I fell in love with you the way you wake up one morning and realize it’s Friday. I fell in love with you and it felt like I had snuggled under the covers of my bed, like the idea of being in love with you was warm and comfortable, and enveloped me and held me close. I fell in love with you one day, and I honestly couldn’t tell you which day, when I looked at you and we were laughing because it was just so easy to be around each other and it was like when your eyes focus on those 3D optical illusions, and everything turned from a big blurry mess to something that was so clear to me. I fell in love, and I was in love with the fact that I had fallen in love with you. I fell in love with you like it was meant to happen, like every day we had spent together was leading up to this one moment. I realized I was in love the way you realize the answer to a really hard math problem or the way you realize that the breeze has started blowing and made the air the perfect temperature. I fell in love like waves washing over the shore and burying your feet in sand. I fell in love like the sun shining through a square in the window and illuminating dust motes in the air. I fell in love and waited for you to fall in love with me. I fell in love with you, and wished I hadn’t. I fell in love with you, and wished you hadn’t. I wished you hadn’t been home alone that day. I wished you didn’t have to feel like there was no way out. I wished you hadn’t found your father’s gun that day. I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you. I’m sorry I didn’t get a chance to tell you. I’m sorry that after I knew I was in love with you I also knew that you had blown your brains across your bedroom wall.


I’m sorry, and I will never be un-sorry, but I will also never be un-in love with you. I love you in the present tense. I love you and I will never stop loving you; it’s involuntary, like blinking or breathing. I love you and it’s like remembering those happy days we had together, and our last good day together, and everything in between. I’ve since been in love with other people, I’ve even been in steady relationships with some of them, but dear God it’s been five years and I’m still falling in love with you.

Sun Kate Uesugi 15

Letter Carly Button Dear YouYou looked solemn as I answered the call. “Hello?” my voice wavered, unsure of what to make of your expression. I had never seen you look like that before. You had been sad before, but never this kind of sad. This was the kind of sad that you could see. You could see the pain radiating from your heart and eating you away from the inside out. “What’s wrong?” I asked. “Its…us.” You responded. Oh god. The tears were coming, I could feel them fighting against me to fall outside my eyes. It hurt me that I knew you so well. The way you looked away from me, and made eye contact for a few seconds gave me all the clues I needed. “Your breaking up with me.” I said. “I’ve only wanted the best for you. I’m so busy and I hurt you all the time. Why would you, such a beautiful girl, choose me? I’m nothing compared to you. You have always deserved better than me. I love you. So much. The best way I can show you that I love you is by letting you go on to be something greater than me. You’ve always been the better one. There’s someone who deserves you. I’m not that guy. I can’t simply be there for you. I love you. This would have been a whole lot worse if we dragged it out. I love you.” So I hung up. I know it’s foolish, but I couldn’t face you. How does a person listen to such beautiful words as that and not break down immediately? So I did. I cried my eyes out, heaving and sobbing into my father’s arms. If this is what breaking up is like, then I never want to date ever again. Albert Einstein says that the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different result. I would be insane if I let myself fall in love with you again. But I will. I will be insane every day of my life for the rest of my life if it lets me have you back in my arms.


I love, loved, and will always love you. Goodbye. Carly

Dont Be Afraid Kate Uesugi


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Leaves Fall Kayla Economou

Skyfall Fiona Rutgers 19


The Encounter Sarah Li As I glance down the hallways, I notice the new kid looking perplexed at his recently assigned locker. His appearance is quite eccentric and seems as though he escaped out of a portal from some underground rap society. The pants he wore hung loosely under his behind so that his plaid boxers were clearly visible. Turning slightly to throw down his books on the floor, I spot a heavy gold chain around his neck looking as if it was weighing him down. I scan his whole outfit with disgust and begin to question his choice of attire. *Other of his ridiculous garments include: a red bandana hanging out of his saggy jean pocket, bright neon head phones hung tightly around his neck, NY Giants hat slightly turned to the side on his head, and NWA baggy sweater. Who does he think he is? He attempts to unscramble the combination. Puzzled, the wannabe gangster searched around for help. I quickly glance away as I notice that I was staring at him the entire time with my mouth gaping open. Slowly, he turns and starts creeping down my way. I speed walk down the hall trying to avoid any contact with him. Everyone stares at me in oddity as my pace gets faster. Suddenly, I feel a light tap on my shoulder. Oh God, that can’t be him, I thought. For some odd reason, chills ran down my spine as turn my body to face the figure that violated my shoulder for a slight second. I hope he doesn’t try to make a move on me. *“Excuse me—Sorry—Never mind,” he says in shame. “Do you need help with your locker? Not to be creepy or anything but I saw you struggling,” I felt proud of myself to offer assistance to this weird looking stranger. “Uh, yes please, thanks.” He put his head down and leads me to his locker. “What’s your name?” I curiously ask not expecting him to be so shy. His clothing screams egoistic, but his personality appears coy. “It’s Jacob,” he answers quickly as if something else was on his mind.


We get to his locker; I manage to crack the code in 5 seconds with my four years of experience. “Here you go. You’re all set,” I announce trying to be friendly. “Thanks, again. I’m sorry to have bothered you. I thought you looked the most approachable. Everyone looks so unwilling to help,” he explains in the most proper manner. “Anytime you need help, I’m always here,” I smile. After that encounter, I realize the appearance of others do not always translate into their personalities. Jacob has taught me a lesson, I proclaim to myself. Putting my fist in the air, I shout out, “HOORAH!”

Summertime Hapiness Kayla Economou 21


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Regrets Zakeyah Broadwater


Stories of a Teenage Nothing  

A simple zine full of stories and pictures that convey the life of a simple teenager.

Stories of a Teenage Nothing  

A simple zine full of stories and pictures that convey the life of a simple teenager.