EGG: volume #6

Editorial Board Student Design Editor Ashley Lessmann

Student Editor Kristin Fedor

Faculty Advisors Mick McMahon Cher Jolliff John Beer Keith Driver David Pyle Theodore Scholz - Indicates award-winning work egg Robert Morris College Arts & Literary Magazine September, 2006

For all inquiries and submissions please e-mail us at rmcegg@robertmorris.edu

Table of Contents Nejatt Abdelrahman Struggle Within Terry Adams Italy II The Princess Italy I

14 19 107

Diane Allen Dad

Quintin Allen Tis’ Me

Tiffany Barnett Seasons of Love

Leslie Bartosz Haunted by You Trying to Fit In Give Me Liberty

46 66 87

Heather Brady Hell, I Don’t Know!

Ricardo Cepeda Searching

Nicholas R. Dworsack Majestic Night Rest The Future Never Looked So Bright

21 32 64

Rhonda Evans Native Joann Flores Motherland

Yaneli Flores It’s Not Your Fault Nancy Gabl Memories of the Heart Where have I been?

52 88 105

Marlena D. Grisby-James Greed

Laura Gutierrez And then comes Pain

Nina Harris My Pen

Sonia Hernandez Living in a Global World

Cassandra Hewlett Division

Emily Holman Alcohol

Precious Jackson My Hips

Priscilla Jibowu Time

Salvador Jimenez Self Portrait en Agua Army of Me Working

10 26

Kathy King Chotal and the Pipe

Kyle Lafontaine Memoir of a Drug Addict

40 iii

Ashley Lessmann Cover Design Lent VIII The Silent Era Shomontelle Lewis This Life Bitter Sweet Memories Take off the mask

9 63 109

Angelica Martinez Untitled The person

84 104

Dr. Natan A. Mendes The Clock J. F. Mueller Uncle Dan Choices, with gratitude to the great Mary Oliver

33 12 44

Amber Mustoe Old House Water Bubbles

25 39 57

Maegen Neal Mirages

Lydia Noble The Gardener

Jose Ortiz Temptations

Jamie Payne Diversity Unavoidable

1 43 90

Kathy Pomranky Unical Calligraphy

Jacqueline Y. Prince I Speak Volumes

Allison Sanchez Fiona Apple

Marissa Smith Even in Laughter

Sarah Smith Separation

Leslie Surrett Sun Going Down

115

Kathleen Tempinski Tall Ship Serenity

45 80

Rebecca Ullman A Phone Call Away

Christina Villanueva The Goal

Melanie Williams My Peace

Mark Wroczynski Dinner for 7 The Cupcake Bond Girl

58 70 108

Paul Zacsek Sunrise for Bloodshot Eyes

111

Cover Design

Special thanks to Mike Viollt, Mab Krueger & Paula Diaz

Ashley Lessmann Orland Park Campus

The Goal

Temptations

the goal

The temptation of the young woman was too great, but I still held my ground. She knew how to move and motivate me. She whispered sweet things in my ear that made me forget all about everything. I reply: “I can’t do this.” “Why not?” “I have someone. In fact, I love this girl I am currently with, and she doesn’t deserve an unfair lover.” “I love you though; you can’t forget about the times we have spent with each other over the years. She is nothing compared to me. I wore this outfit for you. Didn’t you notice? It’s your favorite color.” She wore a green dress, which glimmered in the sun, three inches above her knee. Her dress blended remarkably well in the crystal clear virgin sands. “I don’t know what to say to you to make you come back to me,” she argued. “You see this ring Lola? She gave me this ring one year after we met!” I pulled out the ring and it glimmered like the sun on water. It had a sapphire ruby in the middle that often glowed when I was with my lovely girl. “She made me wear it on my left hand, right next to my pinky. She told me that my emotions come through this ring. The sapphire can change its colors at any moment.”

pinching biting kicking screaming laughing chanting singing dreaming running jumping splashing kicking watching waiting sleeping thinking stop. go. wait. stop. go. wait. wait…wait…wait. not now but soon someday anyday…now I wish it were today…now now…not later…wait someday anyday…now laughing crying sleeping weeping pushing pressing waiting holding steady…now…anyday now just wait and see now today is here… now

Christina Villanueva Chicago Campus

“I can give you the world Jack. I can give you anything you want, just only ask and it’s yours. I can give you more rings. You know me. I can afford to keep you happy,” she replied. “I love her though.” “But I love you, and I need you!” “Look Lola, I used to love you. I don’t love you anymore.” She gave me a kiss. I felt her warm lips contact mine, and her hands were brushing against my legs. “Who am I kidding Lola? I still love you, but in order for this to work, I can’t have you be seen with me. Wait, what am I thinking? I am with another girl. ‘Till death do us part.’ Good-bye forever Lola.” As I was returning home, I noticed that the sand on the beach felt very frail and heavy. I couldn’t stop thinking about that kiss that almost convinced me into getting in her pants. I eventually blocked it out of my head and forgot about the whole ordeal as I walked through the back door of my house. I took a shower and went to bed, where I noticed my girl sleeping, ever so sweetly on the opposite side of mine. I went to take off my ring. The sapphire was black. Early the next day around six in the morning, I woke up with Lola on my side with her green eyes fixated at me while I slept. I woke up startled and confused. “Lola, what are you doing here?” I said whispering. “I came to see you, silly.”

“What? Where is my girl? What did you do with her?” “Don’t worry honey; she won’t be bothering us anymore for now on.” “What did you do with her you crazy whore?!” “Well, if you must know, she is somewhere special. Somewhere she belongs. She might be closer than you think…You can take a few guesses on where she is. I’ll give you some hints. You live by a beach right? Well, maybe she went for a swim or a dive or a drown. Ha. So how ‘bout another kiss?” The ring was a dark red. At this time I noticed that Lola changed her appearance. She resembled my girl in every aspect. The only difference was her eyes. Her eyes stood out like a sore thumb. When she looked at me, she had a hungry look on her face, as if she wanted me, but couldn’t. “You’re sick Lola and you need help.” “No, I just need you for right now.” “You took the most precious thing away from me!” I tried to run away, but I couldn’t. I felt a sharp pain in both my legs that prevented me from moving. “What’s happening to me? Lola, what did you do to me?” “Well, Jacky-poo, you ran away from me once and tried to break my heart by marrying that whore that you call your girl. I knew that she forced you into marriage Jack. Don’t worry about that anymore. Remember Jack: ‘Till death do us part.’”

Time “What are you going to do to me?” “Well Jack, I don’t forgive very easily, so I believe that you’re going to die. Ha!” “You won’t get away with this. I will yell and everybody will hear!” “Well try not to. We are going to die like true lovers. I have it all planned out Jack. It will be like Romeo and Juliet. I will drink this potion, which will only give me less than a minute to live, then I will kiss the man that I love and he will die with me at the exact same time. We will be eternal lovers Jack!” “I won’t let you do this Lola!” She drank the potion and muttered some words to herself. Then she kissed me. She lifted her head up in triumph, and she died instantly. I was still alive. I looked down at the ring. It was turning red, then green, then black. Just as I was closing my eyes for the last time, I looked up and saw the reflection of my girl through the window. She was standing in the closet laughing to herself. My eyes were closed. I died. The ring was clear.

Jose Ortiz Chicago Campus

‘To the stars and moonlight shinning’ YES, the time has come.

That long day ago, that was when the water was hard. NO, I don’t like it, I love it!

The light washed away the day. Yesterday was not the best. I like it now that it’s calm. The water is soft and the clouds are clear. That day ago is now.

Priscilla Jibowu Chicago Campus

Searching

This Life I do not want to end up on the streets Where violence is constant and poverty has increased Where everyone’s mind is full of regrets And mailboxes are searched for welfare checks I don’t want to see my kids suffer Wondering why the father role is being played by my mother Thinking maybe if my parents would have done better We would’ve stayed in a home instead of a trailer I think about this and push harder in college Because the generation before me is lacking this knowledge With no degree there is no solid future in hand And the streets will become our very best friend My kids will not have to worry about mommy I’ll buy them a house and myself a Ferrari We’ll go on trips and won’t have to fret Cause I kept a promise and didn’t forget

Ricardo Cepeda Orland Park Campus

Shomontelle Lewis Chicago Campus

Self Portrait en Agua

Alcohol Alcohol has exiled you from my life. Your psychotic behavior has killed our love. Marriage was to be our sacred institution, Now divorce is inevitable. Alcohol has made you violent, has taken your loving ways and turned you into a monster. Alcohol has taken a strong man and turned him into a weak and pitiful soul. To criticize and act as you do breaks my heart Alcohol has impaired your interpretation of truth And made you an overbearing lunatic Alcohol has been a part of your past, the meaning of your present. Please find a way to not let alcohol identify your future. Alcohol is only a substance that cannot bring you joy and love, Only loneliness and sorrow

Salvador Jimenez Chicago Campus

Emily Holman Peoria Campus

Uncle Dan Deep voice calls us home, names the characters from the listening children waiting for the story and their names; giggling each time another character is introduced. Song leader storyteller absent-minded uncle, loved each one even when he confused our names. Hummed to himself and didn’t hear the humming except in his head. Boomed “How Great Thou Art” and “My Son Joshua” with equal fervor.

Invented stories to make us laugh and teach us how to be in the world. Made us know the world held a place for us, sacred, somewhere waiting for each to find it My legacy, my own, from those from whom I sprouted. Uncle Dan, dear, dear, often missed, sibling to my mother, only one among many, who loved me. Fall, 1997

Generous with his smile and a pat on the head or shoulder acknowledging each of us as part of his world.

J. F. Mueller Chicago Campus

Italy II

Division Division of race Race divides culture Culture divides religion Religion divides sexuality Sexuality divided humans Humans divide the world What divides you?

Terry Adams Orland Park Campus

Cassandra Hewlett Chicago Campus

A Phone Call Away “Knock it off you little pee-stain!” “That’s it! You two get outside and pick the weeds!” After almost half an hour of bending over a bed of unwelcome foliage, my back aches and my mouth is like a barren desert. As I pour icy cold water into my mouth, my eyes are overwhelmed by the blinding light of the sun. Thwapp...arrgghh! I find out that I officially have sunburn as I slap the mosquitoes off my shoulders. I can still feel the heat rising from the humid earth; there is sweat beading on my forehead. As I bend down to pick the millionth prickly weed, my annoying brother thinks it will be funny to throw a few at me. Thwip-splat. “Hey, make sure you get those out by the root or they’ll grow back!” Platrunk! My idiot brother is a real comedian; he thinks it’s hilarious to throw sticks and weeds at me. Oh, you’ll be sorry you little twerp! As our punishment nears an end, my brother tries one more time to irritate me; this time with a worm. I can feel its slimy body stick and then roll down my back. Dangerously close to my breaking point, my dad brings me back to earth and says: “Becca, are you going to help unload the van?” “Oh, uh yeah.” Well, the time has finally come to move into my college dorm. No more fighting with my brother

on a daily basis. No more hanging out in my best friend’s basement. I can still imagine what it was like. There is no echo; only the sound of laughter, the music of Dance Dance Revolution, loud talking, and pool balls hitting against the side of the table. Smack! ‘Holy shit that hurt! You better run because your ass is mine!’ The ping-pong paddle war had begun; ending with everyone’s butts and thighs smarting in pain. Boy, am I gonna miss those days… I try to hold back a tear as I lug my huge suitcase out of the van and roll it up to my home for the next 3 years. I am actually in Chicago! I am so excited to finally be here, but it’s gonna be a big change coming from a small town like Freedom, Wisconsin. I want to show dad that I can do this; that even though I am his little girl, I can still be grown up and live on my own. Four long hours away. Even though the move was a big change for me, it is all a big blur. It was full of things like meeting my new roommate, grocery shopping, getting my books for class on Monday, and just trying not to show on the outside that I’m breaking on the inside. Tension ran high and it only made it more difficult to keep an even temper. Sunday came way too soon— the day that mom and dad were going to go back to Wisconsin. I am in my room putting up pictures of all my friends

The Princess back home, hoping that my roommate and I are going to get along. Here it comes; I can’t hold it back anymore! I start to sniffle, and dad hears me. “Becca, are you going to be okay?” I hope he doesn’t see the tear running down my cheek. “Yeah, I’ll be fine. My nose runs whenever I do a lot of cleaning.” He’ll never buy that! Why does my voice have to shake so much? His hand is on my shoulder now, and I break. I heave a big sigh and my shoulders tense as my chest shudders and my tear ducts open up like the Hoover Dam. “I’m gonna miss you dad.” I turn to face him and he pulls me into the biggest hug I can ever remember getting from anyone. Every memory I’ve had with him is summed up into this hug. “Becca, I just want you to know that even though you are down here and I am in Wisconsin, you will always be my little girl, and I am going to miss you so much.” I can hear my mom silently weeping in the other room and I feel a tear fall on my neck that is not mine. I hold on tighter. “We are only a phone call away.” I knew he was saying this to comfort himself as well as me.

Rebecca Ullmann Chicago Campus

Terry Adams Orland Park Campus

Greed

Majestic Night

The world today is comprised of greed, From the stock market, mortgage companies, corporate America, and the government, greed Participation in white-collar crimes is more prevalent today than ever, a result of greed Young people’s minds today are twisted, families divided, children in a hurry to grow up, always grasping for more, just look at the Iraqi war More bling-bling, overpowering countries, the need for more oil all simply because of greed Obesity, and many other diseases, in most cases, is the result of, nonetheless, greed Can’t say no, can’t push away from the table, can’t stop at one plate because of greed Difficulty in being satisfied and thankful for the present because of greed Greed today is the heartbeat of America, we want to own everything, control everything, because of greed No regard for survival, no regard for quality, no regard for human life all, because of greed Oh America the beautiful, it’s now 2006, will this disease be our demise or will someone finally wake up and take heed? Our eventual death as a nation will no doubt be the result of GREED

Marlena D. GrisbyJames Chicago Campus

Nicholas R. Dworsack Peoria Campus

Struggle Within The only thing you see is darkness. You look around for a hint of light. Anything you can fix your eyes on. Something, anything that can hold you together and allow you to know you are safe. The thought of not being able to see what is around you and not knowing what lays ahead scares you on levels you are not at ease with. The only sound you hear is the pounding of your heart. Harder and faster, your heart beats. You turn around, you think you hear something. You stop to listen, still nothing but the beating of your heart. What are you going to do? Which way are you planning to turn? You are all alone with no sense of direction, no sight to base your choices on. Yet, you feel someone is watching you, following you, even playing with your mind. How are you going to get past this? How are you going to overcome this pain, the loss of sight, and your sudden loss of hearing? You have many paths you can take, but the one you are on now was once comfortable to you, but suddenly it is the one you question. Do you trust your instincts? You once did, but now you fear your judgments are no longer reliable. Is it because you are older and wiser, or is it because you are in so much pain you no longer have a true conception of what reality truly is? What really stands in front of you?

Your sight suddenly reappears and you are no longer blinded by the blackness. Your mother is standing in front of you. You wonder why she is suddenly in your path. You left her and all the bad memories behind. Maybe you are thinking about going home. Maybe this really isn’t your mother. Maybe it is you conjuring up the image of your mother because you miss her and you are wondering, “what if?” What if I go back home? What if I never left? Would I be in this much pain? Would I be questioning myself constantly? What if she really did love me? What if I am like that woman in Hills Like White Elephants? Is this older man playing with my mind? Am I really that naïve to believe someone can love me? You will never understand why you are suddenly questioning everything you have once believed to be the best choices you have ever made. All you know is that the choices you made in the past is what brought you to this situation you are now in. The image of your mother suddenly disappears when a loud crashing sound catches your attention. You can no longer hear your heart beating. The crashing reverberation startles you so badly; your concentration is now fixed on the sound that refuses to leave your memory. You look around to see where that sound came from and all you can see once again is darkness. Images running through your head: memories, thoughts, fears; what are you going to do? Wherever you are now is crashing behind you and you have to get out as soon as

Old House possible! You need to get out before whatever is crashing down behind you ends up trapping you there forever. Why is this happening to you? Why are you allowing this to happen to yourself? You should be stronger than this. You are thinking about crying; you are scared and you think you can’t handle all of this by yourself, but you better not cry. You are stronger than this. You are not a weak person. Hold it all in and pull yourself together and get yourself through this situation like you have always done in the past. You begin walking again, fading out everything that has happened so far. You begin to feel through the darkness for something to hold onto; something solid you can touch and hold onto. Suddenly, your hands fall upon a hard, bumpy structure. You don’t know what it is; all you know is that you can use it to find your way back to the light. It is now your crutch. There is a breeze and it is hitting you with such a force, but you are not letting go of your bumpy structure, which is now your support. You continue to walk, running your hand against this structure. Your courage is building up and you know you are almost home free, but not yet. You see something in the distance. Is it really something or is your mind still playing tricks on you? No! It really is light. Follow it, hurry, don’t let it fade. Don’t let it get away from you. Whatever you do, do not lose it. This is your only way out.

Nejatt Abdleramin Chicago Campus

Amber Mustoe Orland Park Campus

Army of Me Working

Hell‚ I Don’t Know! Sharon Stone once said, “Women might be able to fake orgasms, but men can fake a whole relationship.” I hate it when I hear men say that women are so hard to read. I’m such a low maintenance girl that I basically go with the flow and smile, until it’s time for me to speak up. I’m not afraid to say what’s on my mind. I don’t believe in lying or manipulation to get what I want in a relationship. That would be if I had a relationship. Men are more difficult than women. Maybe the reason men are so hard to read is because there is not a whole lot going on upstairs, if you know what I mean. I really don’t believe this either. I think most of the time, guys know exactly what they want, but sometimes they just aren’t “man” enough to fess up to it. Common sense would say that a relationship can’t work if both people are playing hard to get. Sometimes it’s not as easy as common sense. I guess I knew I was trying to play hard to get, but I never realized that he was playing the same game until it was too late. At first, it seems, relationships are all about who has the ball in their court. Whose turn is it to call, to e-mail, to text, whatever. I think the point is that you want the ball in your court, keep the other person guessing as to what you’re going to do next. A relationship can’t work if you don’t talk. I’ve been seeing this guy for a few months. We have

Salvador Jimenez Chicago Campus

never actually been dating though. I just realized the other day, I know nothing about him and he knows nothing about me. Every time we talked it was always joking around, nothing too serious. Now that I want a real relationship from him, I can’t see how it can work. I can’t just change and start having serious conversations that come out of nowhere; it just doesn’t seem like us. So, why would I still be interested in him when I know a relationship would never work? I have asked myself this question numerous times. I still don’t have an answer. I guess I still like him, and I don’t want to give up hope. Hope is a powerful thing. Hope can build you up and tear you down in the same second. I hate getting my hopes up. Every time I talk to him, I get my hopes up. But then when he says he’s going to call and doesn’t, I’m devastated. Time and time again, I can’t seem to find a way to give up on him. There are two reasons I can think of as to why I can’t give up on him yet. One, we’ve never showed real emotion towards one another. Two, I love the chase. Now, when I say that we’ve never showed real emotion, let me specify. We’ve always joked around, but neither one of us knows how the other feels. I’ve never said or done anything to make him think that I’m interested. He’s never said or done anything to make me think he’s interested. Somehow or another we keep hanging out. I know we both like each other, but it’s to what extent that neither one

of us knows. Now realizing how much I actually like him and care for him, I don’t know how I’m supposed to show it. I’ve never let my emotions show before, so I don’t know how to do it now. He’s the same way; we both seem to have these walls built up, with our emotions hiding behind them. Having these walls built up for so long, I’m not sure how to tear them down and show him how much I like him. There are two types of people in the world: the chasers and the ones who get chased. I’m a chaser. I always want what I can’t have. Chasing after this guy for so long makes me want to get him even more. See, what scares me is that I think he’s a chaser too. The only analogy I can think of to describe this is that we are two blind cats, both thinking the other is a mouse, and basically running around in circles. What I love about relationships is the chase. Once the chase is over, the relationship has to stay exciting or else I get bored and leave. My friend told me that I’m playing a dangerous game of cat and mouse, and as the cat, I should just let the mouse get away and forget about him. But of course, my first reaction to this is: Can I get the mouse first before I let it go? That is horrible. So once I do get this guy, once we are together and not playing games anymore, am I just going to leave because the chase is over? I don’t think that will be the case, but then again, I don’t think we are ever going to be in a real relationship.

The Gardener So what do I do? Do I wait for him and hold on to hope? Do I just forget about him and try to move on? Neither one of these options seems appealing to me. I just seem to be a mess right now. Do I take advice from Mercutio in Romeo and Juliet: “If love be rough with you, be rough with love. Prick love for pricking, and you beat love down.” Or, do I listen to Henry Ford who said, “Whether you think you can or can’t, you are probably right.” I think I’ll stick to G.B. Burgin who said, “It is much more comfortable to be mad and know it, than to be sane and have one’s doubts.”

Not a seedling, but a transplant. Although stronger you knew it had to be carefully tended to. Among your acres of beautiful plants, you tended to my mind and spirit. You fed me knowledge; you fertilized me with your criticisms. My roots started to take a hold of this collegiate ground, Getting stronger and confident. Thank you Coach.

Heather Brady Orland Park Campus

Lydia Noble Chicago Campus

Rest

The Clock As the air from the kitchen invaded the whole house, I smelled my grandmother’s chocolate cakes being baked in her large, wood-burning ovens. The white Carrara marble countertops in the kitchen had the ability to absorb the heat from the freshly-baked cakes, cooling it quickly, much to my pleasure and expectations. There were three dining rooms in her large home, enough to comfortably sit her family of fourteen. Many mornings of my childhood I remember my grandfather calling me to the main dinning room of his house. The dinning room furniture was always clean, and the mahogany wood always shinny. The smell of wood polish emanated from the dinning set that seated twelve. The chairs at the head of the table had arms, and all of them were covered in dark red leather. There were two side buffets where a collection of bottles of liquor and wine from all over the world stood, and on the other one, commemorative beer steins from different beer festivals sat. On the side wall of the dinning room, there it was: the clock, the German grandfather clock. No one could touch it; none of the other thirty-some grandchildren could even imagine touching it…but I did. I was the one. I was the special three-year-old one…My grandfather took me in his arms at least three times a week and gave me the key…The winding key that is…The key that made the clock work its magic, the

Nicholas R. Dworsack Peoria Campus

Fiona Apple winding key that made the heartbeat sound inside that wooden body. It chimed every fifteen minutes; the first chime had three sounds; the second, the half hour mark, had six sounds; the third had nine sounds, and at the hour mark, the chime resonated nine times and then the hours sounded, corresponding to the exact number of hours. It was exhilarating to hear those sounds and felt that I gave the clock its energy and vitality, its force and life, its capacity to beat like a heart in the chest of a humanâ&#x20AC;ŚThe next time I would remember that clock again was when my grandfather was laid to rest, his final rest. The scent of red rose petals filled the room, masking the smell of wood varnish from his casket. He just laid there, motionless, no more heartbeat, silenced, and as I looked at the side wall, the clock was no longer ticking. Grandmother never wound the clock again.

Dr. Natan A. Mendes Chicago Campus

Allison Sanchez DuPage Campus

I Speak Volumes my hips can be heard. The birth of

I have wide

kings,

shapely,

queens,

curvaceous

and emancipated nations

hips. No need to dream of conformity in magazines â&#x20AC;&#x201D;

will thrive through my hips for many generations.

or television, depicting how my hips

From history

are supposed to be!

to the present on to the future

They like to move in time

freedom lives

through

any beat they please.

These

hips!

hips of mine â&#x20AC;&#x201D; sway rhythmically to their own silent tune, as I enter any room. They speak volumes without saying a word within all silence

Jacqueline Y. Prince Chicago Campus

My Hips

Water

Damn! My hips are big. Giving birth to two kids put the weight on my hips. Looked at the mirror and realized that I need to lose the weight that I put on my hips. So big and fat in my hips that I can’t fit in my skinny jeans. I wish I had small hips. But I realize GOD himself gave me those hips, those hips. Walking down the street, some guy said, “Damn! Baby, shake what yo mama gave you!” There in my mind I said to my hips, move up and down, up and down. 34c, 38, 36 are my hips.

But I can tell those guys are still looking at my hips. A girl named Janice said, “Those hips are our weapons.” Yeah, I believe that they are our weapons. But I know those guys are still looking at my hips. My mama gave me those hips. My kids gave me the weight for those hips. Damn! Baby move those hips.

Precious Jackson Bensenville Campus

Amber Mustoe Orland Park Campus

Memoir of a Drug Addict The green eyes tore into my soul and the fear mounted to a leg-quivering high. I stood motionless like a dear trapped in the headlights of an oncoming car. I was cemented in place: nowhere to go and nowhere to hide. Shit. As my mind raced with anxiety in no particular direction, I managed to travel two hours into the past to bring closure to the demon looking through my soul; at any moment, the demon was ready to take me to the hellish world he or it came from. I slid, ever so discretely, the ten dollars to an unfamiliar face across the table. Maybe I did know him, maybe I didn’t. Could it be the last time I met him I was in a tangled world of highs and lows? I must have caught him somewhere in between. The middle stages of highs and lows always confused my brain activity like the calculus tests Mr. Smith, my teacher, used to throw down in front of us students, as if it were amusing to him that we were soon to be stumped. What am I thinking? Nothing can compare to this confusion. Where did I leave off? Oh yes, the ten dollars and the less-than-familiar man across the table. In exchange for the dough, that’s what we called it, it being money back in 2003, he handed me one pill that reminded me of an Advil’s gel tab. It was so smooth, almost like silk. It had a color similar to amber or maybe of rust. It must have

been a short ride home, because in all honesty, I could not remember the trip. Years of this abuse start to take a toll on your short term memory. The neon green eyes appeared to be getting even closer. How long had I been daydreaming that I allowed this creature to advance closer to me? I was still unable to move and the sweat dripped down my face like a leaky faucet. I was almost too nervous to sweat. The comfort of my attic, which I had just remodeled, soon began to cause more discomfort as I realized the only way out was through the demon and down the stairs. With my legs cemented to the floor, escape plans were cancelled. Shit. By this time the acid had transformed the attic into a hellfire of extreme heat and I could feel my skin burning in pain. I looked down, and, just as I thought, I was on fire. I could not move. I could not help myself. I took hold of my crucifix and began to pray that this fire and demon were all just a dream and an illustration caused by the toxins I had so willingly taken earlier in the night. I hadn’t been to church in years, but it seemed like an appropriate time to say my prayers. For all I knew, they could have been my last. I was suddenly lifted by the demon, who must have been Goliath in strength to lift me from the concrete that had locked my feet in place for so long. It seemed like my prayer hadn’t worked as I was carried down the stairs that were part of my master plan to escape this world only moments before. I closed my eyes and thought of my

Lent VIII innocent years as a child and the wonderful memories I had had with my family and friends, and how I would never be able to share smiles and hugs and happiness ever again. It felt like shell shock when the icy Antarcticlike water hit my burning body and snapped my eyes back open. I looked out over the sides of the bathtub and saw my friend standing there looking as pale as I was feeling. We did not speak; we only stared at one another. I remember wondering and asking myself: Why the hell was I in a bathtub? What the hell was my friend doing staring at me in disbelief? How long had I been in the bathtub? So many questions were left unanswered as I tried to put the puzzle of my acid test into place. I have tried on several occasions to remember what started the fire, but as I mentioned before, drugs have a tendency to erase parts of your shortterm memory, and, in this case, long-term memory as well. You cannot say that I did not warn you about the effects of drugs. It has been three years since the horrifying experience, and I have still yet to put closure to the event.

Kyle Lafontaine Chicago Campus

Ashley Lessmann Orland Park Campus

Choices, with gratitude to the great Mary Oliver

Tall Ship

The man shouted his bad advice. My world shuddered and snatched at my heart. “Fix my soul,” something deep inside whined, but he didn’t stop; he knew what I’d do. The child’s baby voice moaned though her sadness dripped into the night. Too late anyway, the night turned soft and the window smoked with tears and dirt, rattling in the breeze. The baby noise eased and silence reigned. And a new sound that was my song drew me deeper and deeper into myself, forcing me to do what I wanted to do, to save the child he and I made.

J. F. Mueller Chicago Campus

Kathleen Tempinski Orland Park Campus

Haunted by You

Dad I was seven years old and my sister was five. We would play outside and watch for our Dad to come home from work. He would pull up in the car and we would run to say hello. We always liked when he brought something home for us. One day, I distinctly remember that he pulled up and our favorite song was on the radio; the song was something about a bird and he turned it up real loud. We went running to the car so we could sing the song. What a cool Dad! Valentine’s Day was always special. Dad would bring home a little heart box of candy for the two of us. Then he would whip out the “big box” of candy for Mom. Another fun treat was when he worked the 3:00-11:00 shift and Mom would let us wait up for Dad to get home. We would wait with excitement knowing that he would be bringing home White Castle or a pizza for us. Just the other day, my colleagues and I were having a conversation in the break room about our Moms and Dads. This conversation helped me to remember a scary time last year, when my Dad had major surgery. He pulled through it just fine, but the hours and days after surgery were intense. At the hospital, right after he came out of the anestetic, he was so mad at the doctors because he had a tube down his throat which prevented him from talking. My Mom and I and my three sisters stayed at the

Leslie Bartosz Orland Park Campus

hospital until the tube was removed many hours later. Finally, the nurse told us we could say hi, but just for a few minutes. She made us go in one at a time, so I think I was first; the first thing he did was put his hand out; he wanted me to hold his hand. Oh my God, he never held my hand. Well, I’m sure he did when I was little, but now in this hospital bed, he wanted my hand. I held his hand, and he tried talking about the doctors; he wanted to tell me what they did or said, but he could hardly speak. I told him everything was going to be okay and he would feel better tomorrow and I’d be back the next day. Kathy went in after me, then Janet, and then Roseanne, the youngest sister. When Roseanne came out, and we were all walking to the elevator to leave for the night, she said, “Dad held my hand.” “Really? He held my hand too,” I said with excitement. We were so touched that we wanted to cry, but we were so happy that Dad wanted to hold our hands. I suppose I was a little jealous for a moment, because well, I never thought he may have held hands with my sisters. I thought I was being singled out for hand holding. That was okay; it probably was even more meaningful that he held everyone’s hand (yeah, right). When my mom asked, “Who is coming back tomorrow?” I chimed in stating, “I know I’m coming back, because I want my hand held again.” It was a touching moment to remember this

story about my Dad. Now that I’ve put it down on paper, I wish I would have written down experiences with my Dad throughout my life, since it’s difficult to remember them all. Maybe it’s better to not write them down, because then you only remember the very special ones. My Dad, he’s a special guy alright. He’s my cool, loving, and never-to-be-forgotten Dad.

Diane Allen Bensenville Campus

My Pen

Unical Calligraphy

My pen gives me peace in the midst of confusion My pen sets my mind free of all its elusions My pen guides me like a bird in the sky My pen is my companion and let me tell you why When I cry, it cries with me, but the ink is its tears But when it cries, it helps me release all my fears When I bleed, it is also wounded, but its blood is black Which represents the pain my heart can no longer contain from the confidence I lack My pen is my friend when no one else is with me Because it writes what I am thinking before I can even conceive it to be It purges my soul of all the hurtful things I was told I Love you, youâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;re beautiful, youâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;re as precious as gold My pen keeps me sane and from my sinful thoughts My pen is what talks, I just sit back and let it walk

Nina Harris Chicago Campus

Kathy Pomranky Orland Park Campus

It’s Not Your Fault As I look at the sky, I see the stars; the sky seems to be so close that I can almost touch it. The trees around me look so big. I can’t see the river, but I can hear it. I hear the water running. I feel so comfortable; it’s like if only I existed in the world. The St. Gabriel Valley Mountains in California is the place where you feel like you’re the only one who exists in the world; you forget about everything. The only thing you can think of is how comfortable you feel and how nice the person who is with you makes you feel. After hours of being there just looking at the sky and talking with the person I love about our future together, we decided to go back to the city because it was late, and because at night, the mountains are very dangerous. We got to the city, and he left me at my aunt’s house. I have lived with my uncles for two years now. I moved to California after graduating from college in Chicago. I remember my mom talking to me and telling me how much she would miss me, but that she knew that I was going to be okay. My life has changed a lot: I’m more independent and I’m with the person I love. But after that night, something changed my life. “Take care and have a good night,” my boyfriend told me. He kissed me and I got out of the car. I was

going into the house when my phone rang; it was my cousin. “Could you please pick me up? I don’t know what happened to my car. I’m by the mountains.” I had no other choice than to go pick her up. I was the only one who could go and help her out, because if her parents knew that she was at the mountains by herself, she would be in trouble. I went to the mountains; I was looking for her, because she didn’t tell me where she was at. The bad thing about the mountains is that cell phones don’t work there, so I couldn’t call her to ask her where she was. I decided to go up to the mountains; maybe she was there. It feels so scary to go to the mountains at night alone, I thought to myself, what was she doing up here at this time? I was almost at the top when a car stopped in front of me. A guy got out of the car and walked toward my car, “Excuse me could you please help me with my car? I don’t know what happened to it.” I got scared and I knew that his car was okay. I turned and tried to go back, but another car came and stopped just in front of me. By that time I knew I was in trouble; I didn’t know what to do. I tried to call my boyfriend and the police, but my cell phone didn’t work. Both guys went up to my car and they took me into the woods. They did with me what they wanted. I felt so miserable at that time; I felt that my world was over and that all my happiness had come to an end. After hours of being there, they decided to

leave me. After awhile, I got up and went into my car. I was scared and I didn’t know what to do…should I go to the police and tell them what had happened to me and what those guys did to me, or should I just let it go? I knew that my family would get mad with my cousin, because if she wouldn’t have been by the mountains, maybe I wouldn’t have passed through that situation. What can I do? I can’t go to the police because my cousin is going to get in trouble with her parents. I can’t tell my boyfriend because he would think that I was doing something bad in the mountains at that time. I tried to calm down; thank God I’m a brave person and don’t show the bad stuff that I feel. I found my cousin and took her to the house. I couldn’t sleep that night; I cried and cried. I couldn’t believe what had happened to me. Now, I wasn’t the woman that my boyfriend wanted. I had been with other guys now; I didn’t want to be with them, but now my boyfriend won’t be the first and only one in my life. A week passed. I was not the same girl: I felt dirty. I was always quiet, and when I was with my boyfriend, I always thought about telling him the truth or just leaving him so he could find a better girl. “What’s wrong with you?” he would ask me all the time. “If you don’t love me anymore just tell me.” I loved him with all my heart, but the fact was that I was not the pure girl that he thought I was. After a couple of weeks, I decided to leave my

boyfriend, “I need to talk to you,” I told him. “First of all, I need to tell you that I love you with all my heart,” and I stayed quiet for a little while. I couldn’t believe that I was about to leave the person who I loved. “You deserve to be happy and I realize that I’m not the person who is going to make you happy. Just go and look for someone else; forget about me and forget about all the things that we planned for our future.” I started crying. He looked at me and hugged me. “I know you love me and that you’re the right person for me. Tell me why you think you’re not the right girl for me,” he looked into my eyes. “I know something is wrong with you. I noticed a long time ago, but I’ve waited so you could tell me yourself.” By that time I knew that telling him the truth was the best thing. “Remember that day when we went up to the mountains?” I asked him. “That day I thought that I was going to be happy forever, but something happened.” He looked at me with a sad look. “You realized that you don’t love me, right?” he asked. “No, I told you already that I love you with all my heart,” and I told him what happened to me. He kissed me and told me that it wasn’t my fault, and that I should have told him the truth right away. “I’m not going to leave you just because of this; I’m going to help you forget that bad moment and we’re going to be happy.” He took me to the police station and I told the police everything that hap-

Bubbles pened to me. The police got the two guys and put them in jail. My family didn’t know what happened to me because my boyfriend helped me to forget about everything. Sometimes I cry because I can’t believe what happened to me, but then I clean my tears and smile. A lot of women go through this painful situation, but they try to live their lives and be happy. When something like that happens, don’t think it was your fault because it isn’t; it’s just that there are bad people in the world, and you had a moment of bad luck. Now, I’m looking at the sky again, hearing the water running, feeling that I’m touching the sky, forgetting about everything, and just thinking about me and the person I love.

Yaneli Flores Chicago Campus

Amber Mustoe Orland Park Campus

ď&#x20AC;Ł

Dinner for 7

Living in a Global World Global? Unity, sharing, living under the same sky. Open your eyes and see the horror, the horror! Where have our values gone? The world is interconnected more every day with the use of technology. We learn technology and we forget our history. History divides us, unites us and gives us power. Power to NOT repeat the past. The past gives us a sense of identity. Identity gives us a sense of our place in this world and language helps define us. Language barriers, unite us, divide us, and cause misunderstandings. Misunderstandings lead to war, conflict, chaos and violence! Violence leads to separation of families and death. Death causes anger, resentment, and with time comes retaliation. Retaliation leads to more divisions, more violence and chaos. Chaos, canâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t you see it? Canâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t escape it? Look! Look around you, open your eyes and see the horror, the horror!! Lack of knowledge, tolerance and history are the only things that prevent us from being inter connected and truly global.

Mark Wroczynski Orland Park Campus

Sonia Hernandez Chicago Campus

Seasons of Love I must say our love began like the first day of spring. Happiness, new beginnings, truth, and honesty Telling me… it’s all about you! Gifts, shopping, traveling, money… It was cool Long conversations…you told me you loved me…had a God given vision of me… Yes, I believed it to! Seasons of love have no time… One day you’re in love, the next you’re crying… Two weeks later he’s cheating on you… Yet, you hold on to the spring love that you once knew. Here we are summer, it’s hot! All others I once indulged my mind has forgot… You lured me in with your hook and bait… Innocent bystander is now the role I play… Looking in your world I found a lot of missing pieces to your cluttered puzzle… M.I.A. from time to time… lame excuses you muddle Blinded by love, not noticing trouble Until you took that inch to a mile disrespecting this love I’ve compiled… Baby, you don’t understand what’s behind this warm smile… Look past this surface because my purpose is worthwhile…

Claiming I’m to have your last child… When you have about three other women receiving your doggy style! Seasons of love have no time… One day you’re in love and the next you’re crying… These crazy ass games I continue to go through… Making this love I have disappear for you! Fall… Now everything is slowly dying… I won’t allow myself to do no more crying… No, I will not continue to listen to all your lying… Do you think that you can just do what you do? Like I’ll just keep riding it out with you! You must have thought you were doing something never done for me before… Poor baby… a dollar and a dream only works for incomplete souls… From the time you met me I was already whole… So what’s up with this bullshit? This silent control? My third eye is only giving you the illusion of this state… Oh my brother, you bit too far off into this here cake! My mistake, obviously these ingredients are too rich for your taste… Thinking you’re keeping your youth by the type of women you chase… JUST HEAR THIS! No more I will take… Stopping you at this point… forget wondering… what is your reason?

Bitter Sweet Memories Before my love goes to the next season Winter… Yeah… Freezing! Seasons of love have no time… One day you’re in love and the next day you’re crying… I’ve seen enough… because your love was never true And if your love was worthy… I wouldn’t be writing this for you! I refuse to feel like I’m dying from all of your cheating, mistreating and lying! I can’t take your daily heart break! My vision of spring love has faded away… So before I begin to use strong words like HATE... Good bye sweetheart… I hope your life is great!

Tiffany Barnett Peoria Campus

How did I screw up? I’ll never know My life has not been the same My place in the space is unwanted and cold My tears fall like rain Why did I screw up? I wanted my way I thought my choice was right I stood my ground like a strong tower And my mentor was sacrificed Now I’m left with that painful day Of when she cut me loose The days I used to spend time with HIM Have drifted like feathers on a goose So I wait for a change in the hopes that soon I can be a protégé again And I can have a closeness with God And He can call me his friend

Shamontelle Lewis Chicago Campus

The Future Never Looked So Bright

Motherland At the age of 21, I think I made a mistake Getting pregnant, not knowing what Iâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;m doing with my life Scared out of my mind I put myself through it and have my son Having to take care of another personâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s life I finally understand what I am living for My precious little boy.

Nicholas R. Dworsack Peoria Campus

Joann Flores Chicago Campus

Trying to Fit In

Native A scene of grass, Trees, animals running amok, owning the land. A proud people, farmers, hunters, gatherers, Strong, lively and richly rooted in faith. NATIVE, it’s where I’ve come from; where I belong.

The interconnectedness of my language, names that bear history, sound, autonomy. I HAVE BEEN EXILED

People who look like me, love like me Cry when I cry and laugh when I laugh. Where there was marriage…Divorce Separation was hungry and its appetite satisfied with purity The rhythm of poetry has graduated; and its diploma reads Diversity!

Leslie Bartosz Orland Park Campus

Rhonda Evans Chicago Campus

And then comes Pain There it is, the perfect smile A smile like a rainbow after the rain Yes, the perfect smile That resembles butterflies. That resembles Pain. Closing my eyes. I feel his touch, I hear his voice. I see his smile…Yes, that perfect smile… That resembles fireflies. That resembles Pain. Time passes so quickly But his absence…I have no notion of time. And that smile, unforgettable smile, yes… the Perfect Smile Resembling…flowers… Resembling pain I hear his voice through the wind I hear his whisper…I feel his soft whisper…whoosh a whisper with a smile…a perfect smile… That resembles sunshine. That resembles…pain

Red like…his perfect smile…Yes!! Smile, resembling passion. Smile, resembling Pain. A smile that consumes you… Like poisonous gas The perfect weapon…the perfect smile Smile that resembles heartbreak… no, resembles…pain. Yes, I have found it… The Perfect Smile Smile carrying a whisper… Smile carrying a song… Smile carrying a heartbreak… Smile…yes, the perfect smile. Resembling…butterflies… yes…resembling…

paIn

Yes…I have found IT. the perfect smile…like the oceans’ blue PERFECT…like the song of a bird Music to my ears. Music…no, maybe Pain Lonely…like a single red rose red like love. Like his lips on mine

Laura Gutierrez Chicago Campus

The Cupcake

Chotal and the Pipe



Chotal was the village mother’s greatest happiness. Born with the full caul over her tiny face, one birthing mother pulled it free allowing the new born to breathe. She exclaimed, “Blessed be look— she is smiling.” The small brown infant looked at them all— eyes wide open, lips parted slightly in a smile that spread from ear to ear. Legend says she raised her arms and pointed to each one of the elder women in attendance. This, of course, was considered a momentous event. The thin veil or membrane covering any newborn’s face was considered a great mystery and signified that she, this tiny being, was very special. She would give gifts of prophecy and become a wise woman. Almost everyone celebrated Chotal’s birth except for Shoney. Shoney’s lack of enthusiasm stemmed from the fact that she was promised to be made a wise woman. Her ceremony was to be in two moons, now there would be no ceremony because she was not born with the caul, and she did not have any special abilities. She was promised the ceremony because she found the hidden cave of the ancestors as a young girl. Now the ceremony she had been promised was pushed aside by a new child. To make matters worse it was Sylvan’s child, the woman she hated, because Sylvan had won Long Tail’s affection first. She would watch the child, hoping for the right opportunity to strike.

Mark Wroczynski Orland Park Campus

She decided that she would make them a stew for their ‘good’ health and visit the new mother and child. Sylvan sat close to the fire holding Chotal to her breast, listening to the soft sucking sounds and the crackle of the fire. Gazing into the baby’s face, she wondered why this child had come to her. Her prayers for a strong male child had been futile. Long Tail, the baby’s father, not understanding the significance of the caul, had left the birthing lodge in disgust after learning that his first born would be a wise woman and not a warrior. He would go to Shoney now. He would not stay with Sylvan and Chotal. She rocked the child, gently humming softly in tune with the hiss of the flame. Sylvan mused that she had never really liked Long Tail; it was really to get back at Shoney that she had even allowed his advances to go further. Now that he did not have a first born son she worried that he would discard her. How would she take care of little Chotal without his help? His portion of the food would go to whomever he decided and she was sure that he would not choose her. In her heart she was glad to be rid of him. He was a new breed of warrior: uncaring about old women’s ways, quick to anger, and violent—constantly partaking in the white man’s drink and his love of shooting guns. Now she felt the danger she and her child were in. The status of the village women had changed with the coming of the white man. The men ignored the women’s council, creating wise words

amongst themselves because the white man refused to talk the women. The women of the village continued their meetings and ceremonies, commenting amongst themselves on the changes that their men were making. No longer consulted for important decisions like hunting and moving days, the wise women watched silently, voices ignored, and their wisdom untapped by the male leaders for the first time in their village’s history. Chotal’s ceremony was held when three full moons had passed. The weather was warm and the stars shined in the night sky. Sylvan, wrapped in her best shawl, held the fat baby above the fire. The smoke from the cedar bark rose, covering them both, and cleansed their spirits. The other mothers chanted and moaned the ‘Making Song,’ an ancient melody dedicated to the Mother Earth. Their voices collectively raised the wind and it whipped the cedar smoke amongst the circle of women. Niya, the oldest and wisest of the women, reached out and took the baby from Sylvan. “She is ours, the newly given baby. Her birth heralds a new day. Let us dance and celebrate the new and youngest member of our wise women clan,” she intoned to the beat of drums and dancers’ foot steps. Their voices rang into the night; the ceremony continued until dawn. Sylvan taught Chotal. Chotal protected Sylvan. Chotal’s piercing cries caused Sylvan to spill the pot of stew before Sylvan could eat from it (a gift from Shoney), but the dog ate the spilled stew off the floor. He was found dead in the morning by

the river. Chotal began to speak before she was one. She saw Shoney and cried out, “She bad, she bad, she bad,” pointing her out as Shoney stood in the crowd at the feast. It was at the age of one that Chotal woke up Sylvan, alerting her that their lodge was on fire. They got out safely. Long Tail came to their lodge when Chotal was three. He had been avoiding his wife and daughter. Filled with the whiskey and goaded by Shoney, he came into the home demanding his father’s pipe. He had given Shoney the pipe as a gift and a marriage proposal. Shoney wanted the pipe for herself; she had even allowed Long Tail to move into her lodge after the baby’s birth. Having the pipe would signify that she, not Sylvan, was Long Tail’s true wife. Chotal watched curiously as he argued with Sylvan over the pipe. “It is my father’s pipe, I want it back now,” he demanded, slurring his speech. “You gave it to me. How will Chotal and I live? You shun us…like we did something to you. You have a very special daughter.” “She is a beast and you birthed her. She is not my child. I want the pipe back before you curse it. You and your witchy child,” he said throwing his hands in the air. “If you take the pipe how will I survive with Chotal so small? You have no thought to me or her, but what about Shoney? Will you take the pipe to her, as you gave it to me? Maybe she will give you a boy child, maybe not. Will you give her up to

chance also?” Sylvan wanted to keep the pipe because having it meant that she had a hunter to take care of her and she and her child would be fed and treated with respect. If she gave it back to him, he did not have to keep giving her a portion of his hunt. Her status in the village would change, she would be considered an unmarried woman with a child, a status frowned on by others. Although everyone in the village knew that Long Tail had shunned his young wife and child, the traditional union would be broken and she and Chotal would be shamed. Long Tail pushed Sylvan aside and advanced toward the pipe hanging in the sacred space on the wall. To his surprise, Chotal leaped up and grabbed the pipe before he could touch it. She laughed, “My father Long Tail wants his pretty pipe to give to his ugly woman. It is my mother’s pipe. Take it from me if you can.” She ran out of the lodge with it clutched tightly in her small, soft fist. He ran after her around the lodge and toward the center of the village. She ran faster until she reached wise mother Niya’s lodge. Niya was sitting outside the lodge. Chotal ran up and put the pipe into her hands, just as Long Tail grabbed her by her ponytail. Chotal smiled sweetly at her father and said, “Now you must get the grandmothers to give it to you.” He let her hair go, but kicked dirt at her and the wise woman. That evening a meeting was called of the wise

men and wise women of the village. They would decide where the family pipe should reside. It was obvious to everyone that Long Tail would not return to his wife and daughter. “He had left of his own accord,” the witch doctor sneered. “But Sylvan should not be put into the category of bad wife,” the chief ’s wife crooked, “which the return of the pipe to him would signify.” Long Tail claimed, “Sylvan… was with someone else… Chotal is not my child.” Everyone grunted and some shook their heads in disagreement, because everyone could see his face upon her. The debate grew loud and neither the men nor women could agree on what to do. Chotal, who had sat quietly throughout the meeting suddenly jumped from her mother’s arms and ran into the middle of the circle near the pipe. She began to do a little dance and hum. The elders watched the strange little girl. She sang to them in a small voice:

Love to my mother, grant her the pipe Give her another— so he will leave my mother be, Make him another— trade it for free. The child turned, exited the circle, settled back into her surprised mother’s arms and promptly fell asleep. The elders murmured as they considered her song. Then the oldest of the wise men declared, “The child is strange but true, she has her father’s face, but her grandmother’s wisdom. I will give Sylvan a pipe from my own family. I will make her my daughter/wife in name only. She can marry someone else after one year if she chooses, because I am too old for a new young wife to matter now. When I give her my pipe, wise women, you must give Long Tail his pipe back. If this is agreed upon, I will be a new husband again by the next moon’s rising,” he cried, grinning a toothless smile.

I am a little girl, in me my father lives, I am a little girl in me my mother lives. I am the earth’s daughter, I am the sky’s kin, no one can change these things so we must learn to live. My father does not love me because I am a girl. My mother loves me most because I bring her joy. Shame to my father

Kathy King Chicago Campus

Even in Laughter Even in laughter My heart feels pain No one ever notices It’s just the same old thing I go through the motions The smiles and nods Trying to pretend I’m alright when I’m not Trying to hide the sadness That has taken over my soul Not being able to rewrite A life I don’t own Feeling the regret Of a thousand mistakes Tired of saying Everything will be okay Not even knowing What I believe Losing myself In some kind of dream That feels like It will never end Nowhere to go But where they tell me to No decisions of my own But the ones laid before me Age changes nothing I’m treated the same

Even in laughter My heart feels pain It feels the pain Of being broken Remaining unfixed Crying inside while I play pretend But even my laughter is not the same Now everyone hears my pain Even in laughter

Marissa Smith Peoria Campus

Serenity

My Peace Here I was standing in the most peaceful place with my eyes closed, listening and feeling the wind brush gently across my face. As I am standing here thinking about absolutely nothing, for the first time I felt peace that I never knew existed. Then, I open my eyes and I am looking at the Grand Canyon, looking as far as I can see, as if I push my problems as far away as I could. Then a thought of my NativeAmerican ancestors came to my mind, as now I feel a real connection to them. The next thing I know, bang-bang! I open my eyes and I hear my father calling me. I woke up from the dream, now being in the kitchen with my father, criticizing everything I do as he searches for more to say to bring down my self-esteem that I try hard to keep…just wishing that I could go back to my peaceful place that I know exists. As words kept flowing out of his mouth, “You are doing it the wrong way! Do it this way!” I try so hard to block him out as he takes more of my self-esteem. It feels like it’s draining from me like water from a faucet. I try hard to think about happy stuff, like being with my friends, going to the beach with my boyfriend, or going back to the quietest place where I was in my dream: the Grand Canyon. Being at the canyon only for that one day was one of the most worthwhile experiences that I

Kathleen Tempinski Orland Park Campus

’Tis Me never thought would have been. It was so peaceful that all you could hear was the wind and the birds. Looking at the canyon itself was really beautiful, seeing the sunlight hitting the canyon made it look like a life-sized picture. The only reason it was this peaceful was because I was at the west part of it, where the Native-Americans own the land and it’s not commercialized. “Do you hear me?” asks my father. “Yes, I hear you.” “Then what did I tell you? Do it this way. You don’t know what you are doing.” I sigh, begging God to please let this man leave me alone. This was not the first time I made pancakes. I made them plenty of times, and he always ate them and liked them. I wish mama was home, I thought to myself. Within seconds, I heard the door open and it was my mom! Later on that day, she mentioned how she noticed that I was not in a good mood. She always tries to tell me not to listen to my dad and that she loved me, which helps me gain my selfesteem that I thought was almost gone.

Melanie Williams Chicago Campus

What spell is this upon my heart? The hex and curse of besotted blood! She suspects I’m tainted? She knows I’m tainted! A normal man would run and hide. But I’m trapped within a zealous desire. Oh, am I committed? In the passionate corners of my mind, Her being curves into clear focus. I see playful eyes so bursting with life. Oh, what a charm is she. I am committed to her. You see, I expect a most delicate touch. One single drop can kill dreams of pleasure. I ponder long days and magical nights together. Oh, smitten am I, for she keeps me still. I’m committed to her forever.

Quintin Allen Chicago Campus

Untitled

Diversity Unavoidable

It’s stuck; it’s stuck on my finger

Look around, what do you see?

It lingers from finger to finger

You see someone outside your race.

The palms of my hands,

Your culture is unlike any other.

I rub them together, friction generates

They speak languages English, Chinese, French,

It begins to come together, finally

Spanish, Polish, Italian,

It departs away

You don’t understand them.

It goes no more, the gum of my

Your Roots are not Their Roots.

Hands no more

Her style is not Hers. His style is not His. Get away, go away, be the Same. You can’t. They are nothing like you, you are nothing like them. They, You…are Unique and Interesting Individuals. Societies are linked through them. You keep looking and theirs is more of It. It’s not just people, it’s places and things. Cities, Countries, Lifestyles, Backgrounds. Insightful Unavoidable. It…is Diversity.

Angelica Martinez Chicago Campus

Jamie Payne Chicago Campus

Separation

Give Me Liberty

Based upon ignorance Sown by seeds of oppression Do you not know that? Preconceptions only beget misconceptions. Beliefs that my physical attributes Govern my abilities. Only lead to aggression and hostility. Discrimination because of my nationality, Exclusion because of my ethnic origin. Can my intelligence Truly be determined by the color of my skin? Dictations that are made based on outward appearances Only cause separation, Yet segregation will never bring about integration.

Sarah Smith Chicago Campus

Leslie Bartosz Orland Park Campus

Memories of the Heart Memories of our lifetime lie in our heart They lie in each chamber waiting to flow at a momentâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s notice. Every day, every minute, it pulses to the heartbeat of recall. New blood cells are being transported to pumping veins and arteries. When we are happy and healthy, the blood carries all our nutrients that we need. When we are traumatized, the blood flow thickens. Valves open and close slowly and everything starts to clog like a drain. We slow down. Our vessels, that once brought life to us, now constrict and cause pain. Our heart is broken. The question is, does it arrest or does it cardiovert to the old memories that brought us joy? If we reset, we will continue the beat of life. Some vessels may need to be re-routed but the memory of life has sustained us. We go on. The memories over the years have enlarged the heart but with caring hands, love, thoughtful words and gestures, our life is renewed. Strength again is regained.

We choose life, with new and old memories, that continuously circulates through our vital organs. Necrosis is not an option. We live.

Nancy Gabl DuPage Campus

The Silent Era

Mirages Dark, rich eyes that remind you of a puff of smoke: these were the eyes that invited me in. They were full of mystery and intrigue, the kind that made me wonder what was really going on inside his head. It was that aching feeling that I would never know. Even more mystifying were the almost angelic features of the face; only the small flaws made him human. With a snap, the angelic beauty could disperse to reveal the demon within, for what was beheld on the outside was only a dream. It was an advertisement for something false, a guiding light meant to deceive poor believers to their dooms. It was a doom not in death, but in the agony of regret, the wish that I had seen beyond the mask. Looking back at those deep eyes makes me yearn for that day. If I were there again, I would never have spoken to the captivating man in the red and gold uniform. I would never have eaten from his dish of deceit. My soul, my life, what makes up the entirety of what I am, is lost and I cannot get it back. I search and call out for that day when I can bask again in the glory of na誰vety. Even now he calls to me in my dreams; I am his slave still. He tells me I can never leave to pursue my happiness in the world of adulthood, but I scream at him that I will. He led me to a place where I could never be home. I lost my family, my true friends, and the joys of life that made me whole. I

Ashley Lessmann Orland Park Campus

was trapped in his love in a city that took its tastes of me each day until the plate was empty. Oh, those endless eyes; I will never again fall for their tricks. I will soon be free of them, of their chains, and I will walk with my head high again. Then he will scream in agony at the loss of me, as I scream his name and send him back to the hell he dragged me into. Then, I will never again speak the name Ryan Morris Christian. To explain my hell, we must travel to a time before it; we must go to my oasis in the stars. It is an imaginary place that exists only in my dreams, but it allows me to escape. I remember the week before I first met him. All I need to take me back is a slight breeze, and then slowly the chirping crickets fill my mind. I can still feel the horse beneath me. I have never felt more serene than that day on top of a mountain in Arkansas. It was late summer, maybe September, and I was horseback riding in the mountains one sticky afternoon. I was happy then, and full of life. I had no worry except for the ones I loved. I loved my family, and I loved myself. Life as I knew it was at its peak. There on the mountain, I felt like the happiest girl alive. I remember a feeling of perfect calm. I could feel the labored breaths of the horse beneath me, and the smell of leather filled my senses. There was a slight chill in the air, but also a warm, moist feeling that kept my jacket on the saddle behind me. A soft breeze was blowing through the leaves, which were just hinting at their transformation for

fall, and it brought with it moisture of impending rain, or more likely fog. I could see small puffs of it rising from the other peaks. As the horse took each careful step, the sound of squeaking leather clashed with the chirping of crickets, telling their tales to the sun as it set. Each of my own breaths was as labored as the horseâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s; the beauty was enough to stop my heart. The mountain also brought with it a feeling of awe; looking down on the Ozark Mountains filled me with an odd sort of power and serenity at the same time. When we stopped the horses for a rest, I took in the stunning view of the sunset and tasted the moisture of the rising humidity. The dew on my tongue was full of the taste of the forest, both of the leaves and of the earth. The horse and I sighed at the same time as we turned away from the view to the perilous gravel slope below. I could hear the birds sing their last notes before surrendering their stage to the owls and creatures of the night. I could not help but feel regret at leaving. The rustling of the leaves called me back, but the ominous smell of rain grew stronger, calling me down the mountain. It was a loss of tranquility that I did not know would continue as my life moved on from that point. I hope that someday I will visit the heaven that I had that week in the Ozarks; I hope that my life will be mine again. It was the influence of a dream that led me to him; it was a notion of where I wanted to go. At first, it was only a glimpse, a nagging thought that

remains after passing someone on the subway. Whispers of a place that could make all my dreams come true danced in my head, polluted thoughts that slowly turned me. As childhood fluttered away without a care, I was left to decipher the woman I had become. He came to me and took me away, like a demonic spirit penetrating the souls of the helpless. I was blind and gullible. Love was something I had never experienced. I giggled in pleasure at the thought of a bright future, a life filled with excitement and adventure. I ran into life head first, feet behind, but his promises soon left me. Soon, I hated myself, the shape of myself, and everyone around me. I altered my behavior for a dream, and then went beyond it. I found that I did not truly know what Ryan was, but still I followed him. A few more years, and I was a changed person. He had possessed me and turned me against everything I loved. I lied, cheated, and deceived, but it was he who deceived the most. He beckoned me to follow him late one night, so I did, and flew away from all I held dear to be with him in the city. I wanted it all, and he wanted me to have it. He made it so easy. I left my home with the cornfields and flew to him and the skyscrapers around him. This was it: the independence I had always dreamed of. I was no longer a girl on a stupid horse with a silly dream. Life had meaning. Ryan was to be the driving force to take me to the real me, to lead me through the adventure of the rest of my life. I wanted him and the promises that came with him, so I

made a home in the city. No more would I listen to the crickets chirp in “Nowhere, U.S.A.” I was ready for the future. Time ticked by and so did our relationship. What had seemed like a dream come true became a monotonous bother in life. Every day passed as if I were in a dream, a zombie accustomed to apathy, just doing my duty. I was unhappy, and I wanted out. He tried to tell me that it would pass, that the feelings I had inside of me were just my way of adjusting to a different life. I believed him for awhile, I think. I continued on the path I had chosen for myself and worked hard everyday to achieve something with no sense of desire. I rode the elevators with condoms and belching college students and dreamed of something more. I wore the uniforms and carried the weight of a dead dream. “It’s an easy thing,” Ryan would tell me each night. “The opportunities are endless for you now. I brought you to where you wanted to be. Why do you deny that I am what you always wanted?” I would look into his deep eyes and speak the same word, “Whatever.” “Whatever” is a word that I had rarely spoken in my life before Ryan claimed me. I had always thought that my life was boring and restricted before, but when faced with the issues of life, I had never spoken “whatever.” I had always looked life straight in the face and laughed at it. I was a complete puzzle of human flesh and soul, but I did not realize I had been, at least until I spoke that

despairing word for the last time. I realized that Ryan had taken something from me that I could no longer do without: my life. It was no longer my own. I hated the world around me and myself, and I no longer possessed the things that had made me who I was. I was an empty shell without my family, my friends, and my loves. What I had become was no longer an entity with a will and desire of her own, but a mechanized depiction of a loveless life. I could not blame Ryan entirely, for I was also to blame. That night as I listened to his whistling breaths I resolved to get back what was rightfully mine. That night I dreamed of what my life was before and what it would hopefully be again. When I think back on my life and the things I own, I am reminded of the one thing that encompasses all. My own existence, the life that allows me to experience everything I hold dear, was something that I had taken for granted. It included the company of a spectacular, loving family and the pleasure of all my senses. Because I am alive, I am granted the world. I am allowed to see, touch, taste, hear, and smell. I can taste the foods I love and feel the warmth of arms around me. It allows me to see the sunset, taste the rain, smell the roses, and feel love. Lying there in bed, I woke realizing that I had given up all of that for a stupid dream, a promise that was a lie. I had given up my soul for a place that led believers in and sealed them to its body with cast iron locks, and for a man who had led me to believe in it. Each

day I dealt with the criticisms from his gorgeous mouth without thinking of what he was doing to me. His beauty had turned out to be a mask over another entity. He had taken ones before me, promising them a world of achievement and adulthood. What I received from him and his city was a continuation of the immaturity I had wanted to escape, and nothing of the independence I had craved. My passions, my talents, and my goals were parts of my life before Ryan. My life was the most precious thing I possessed, and he had it. I had stumbled towards the mirage, and I was dying of thirst. The morning after my epiphany, I went to him like it was a normal day. In fact, I lived my empty life the same way that I always had for that day, and for many after. I continued as I had and dealt with the inner torture I felt. I was not worried though; I would confront him later, when I was ready. So, the days went by and I planned. I researched new directions and made some phone calls. I hid my work from Ryan and tried to make him feel like I was getting better. He continued to make me feel like a fly on the wall, cornered and pinned, but I kept my resolve. I made him feel as if our love had never died, even though I knew it had died long before. It had died before I even knew it had. It was never love; it was my lust for adventure. It was false hope. I did not know how I would confront him. He had used me; that is true, but I was not aware of his capabilities for violence. I did not know if he would give me my life back freely or if he would put up a

fight. I planned for the worst, but I was soon given my answer one night. It had been a tiring day, and I stumbled into our apartment without even noticing him in the kitchen. He picked up on my entrance however, and intercepted me before I had gotten far. Instead of asking how my day was, or how I was for that matter, he confronted me and grabbed my arm. I tried to shake him off, but he held fast to me, like a leech. “Let go Ryan,” I groaned. “Just leave me alone. You’ve done enough already for my life. It’s been a real adventure!” He snarled back, “You are hiding something from me! What is so wrong with me or what I have given you?” I was not ready for this. I told him again to just let me go. He had never grabbed me before and the feeling was intimidating. He had gone beyond verbal abuse this time, giving me a glimpse into his darker side. It was one I rarely saw in such a state; his eyes even glowed in his fury. “I’m going to bed,” I told him quietly. “I’ll be alright in the morning. Thanks for asking.” “No!” he screamed as he threw me onto the couch. “Tell me your issues. There is nothing wrong. Your future is with me, here in the city. Isn’t that what you wanted?” “Ryan, yes, it is what I wanted.” I tried to appease him. “Then why ignore me? Why wake up each morning with a huge frown on your face as if you

hated the life that you were given that day?” I wanted to scream at him that I had no life. I wanted to leave him and run away from the consequences of my actions and his obsession with me. I just looked at him though, in fear of his eyes. He was revealing himself to me. It was like a confirmation of what I had already known but had refused to believe. It sickened me to think that I had seen an angel in him, when he was really a devil. “Ryan, let me be.” He stormed up to me, and I flinched, moving away from his approach. I did not know if he had been drinking. It amazed me that such hate could exist without some assistance. I just knew that there was no more planning for me to do. I had to confront him and take my life back. I had to leave before I had gone too far, and I had no choice but to fight him. He came closer and whispered, “I gave you all you needed. I gave you a roof over your head, money, and friendship. I gave you a contract for your future, and I am that contract. You can’t give that up.” I looked him in his dark eyes, the eyes that had once sent a chill of pleasure down my spine, but now only filled me with dread. It was time. I was ready. “No!” I yelled as I pushed him away. “My life will not be forfeit. I am going to fix it. You were not what you made yourself to be. You lied to me and led me to a world of hell. I’m not happy. Can’t

you see that?” I paused and took a breath. His face blinked a mask of confusion but then returned to its glare. I continued, “I can’t do it anymore Ryan. I can’t live the lie that you want me to live. You never loved me. The life you promised me was beautiful and heavenly in my mind, but in reality, it was my nightmare. I thought it was what I wanted, but I was wrong. I am leaving you tonight, and I am leaving this city forever.” “You bitch! What makes you think that it would be that easy?” He approached me, but I moved away behind the couch. If I could make it to the door, I could slam it in his face, and then the elevator at the end of the hall would be my refuge; he could not make it down the stairs fast enough. Oh, the elevator, a better example of the cage I had been living in, does not exist. My life was depending on that torturous thing. Too much of my life had been spent in that most uncomfortable mode of transportation; the irony of the situation almost made me laugh in front of Ryan. “You can’t stop me Ryan! I want my life back!” I ran to the door, but he was too fast. He grabbed the tableside lamp and threw it at me, missing my body but causing me to trip on its cord. I clamped my eyes shut as I hit the hardwood floor, but there was no time to feel any pain. I scrambled up and grabbed at the door, my heart pounding in my ears. I grabbed the vase from the table there and threw it at Ryan, my panic making it soar above his head. The distraction bought me milliseconds, and I

100

threw the door open. Whack! Another object hit me on the back of the head and I fell out of the doorway into the hall. Red lightning flashed in my eyes as the intense pain filled my entire body. I just had to make it a little farther. I saw him run across the room towards me, with death in his eyes. He was possessed beyond my understanding. I only had to hope that he would spare me in the end if my efforts led to nothing. I kicked the door just as he crossed the threshold, slamming him in the face. His dizziness gave me the chance I needed, so I shut the door and ran. I ran for my life, for the freedom from what my choices had become. I tried to look at it like running towards hope, instead of running away from pain. I pushed the button and waited. Time was in slow motion. I could hear him fumbling with the door in his fury, his shaky hands the only benefit I received from his hate. I stared at the light of the elevator button, praying for it to go out and give me the sound that had formed such a menial part of my life. It never came. As the door to the apartment flew open, the black blur that was Ryan came swooping down on me like Death himself; his eyes were glowing red. I cowered before him and waited for the end. Bing! It was heaven to my ears. I lunged into the door and pressed the “door close” button, crawling to the corner like a caged deer. I saw his eyes once again as the doors closed, and then closed mine in relief. Bing! What?! The doors flew open only one

101

floor down, and Ryan’s shadow flew in over me. I screamed as my heart stopped and vomit gurgled to my throat. His stench was horrible, but the pain that his spirit inflicted upon my brain caused my vision to blur. As my eyes closed, I despaired in the agony of defeat. I wondered what I had done. Ryan was a demon; he was so much more evil than I ever could have imagined. I wondered how I could love evil itself. I thought about my family, my family! How much I wanted them and desired their hugs. Death itself had taken them from me. It could not have them! “No! You are nothing! You are the worthless scrap that is left over after real life! You cannot beat me, because I have one thing you do not…true love!” I closed my eyes and thought of them; I thought of my family and friends, and of the many people who had placed imprints in my life. They may have disappeared from my life, but somewhere, they still loved me. I let that love radiate through me and fill me up. I could feel the warmth of their power; I could feel it remove the disease that was Ryan’s disgusting soul from my body. My family was freeing me. “You cannot have them!” I screamed one more time, and Ryan’s voice screamed in agony. As his grip ceased, I flew into the elevator wall, wincing at the release. As Ryan’s spirit evaporated in the glow of love, I began to cry. Tears of loss and regret filled my eyes, but joining them were tears of hope. I was free.

102

Soon, Ryan’s form was completely gone, and the glow diminished into my body. As I sat there in the corner of the elevator, visions of the future crossed my view, and I smiled in the ecstasy of a new adventure. Never again would I lose my life to false hopes and dreams. I would never again stray from the one thing that was always true: my family’s love. When the door opened, I walked past the bewildered faces of the waiting couple and dried my eyes. I threw open the building’s doors and walked into the night, shedding the layers of Ryan’s possession as I walked towards home.

Maegen Neal Chicago Campus

103

The person

Where have I been?

The person

I have been to the burning heat of the Sahara desert.

Said to be my friend the one That lingered from friend to friend My friends Friction was created. My friends came together And finally off my back You were never my Friend.

ď&#x20AC;˘

I have been to the floral gardens full of sunshine, butterflies, and crawling caterpillars. I have been to the swamp lands with murky waters, leaches, snakes and alligators. I have been swimming in the ocean when the waves were angry and hostile, and I have been pulled under and tossed around like I was in the spin cycle of a washing machine. I have been in thick quicksand and sucked under only to fight back with a vengeance and find a helping hand available to pull me out, sometimes with strings attached, sometimes not. I have been in a coffin only to feel resurrected and reborn to a life change due to hard work of analysis and truthfulness. I have been back and forth, like an ant frantically working to carry food back to his ant hill. I have been to the Caribbean Sea, clear blue with the music of dolphins and tasty large shrimp of abundance, and the sandy shore that offers me warmth and relaxation. I have been to the Pacific Ocean, who led me to the beautiful islands of Hawaii. Iâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;ve seen the leis made

104

Angelica Martinez Chciago Campus

105

Italy I of beautiful orchids, pineapple of plenty to quench my excessive thirst from the heat of the sun, and seen the colorful costumes on friendly, beautiful people, greeting you with the sensual welcome of aloha over and over again with voluptuous smiles. I have been in the tornados upon return, causing problems of every nature. I have been living life.

106

Nancy Gabl DuPage Campus

Terry Adams Orland Park Campus

107

Bond Girl

Take off the mask People may look and say she has it all together, but she doesn’t She will wear the finest outfit, she will dance the finest dance She will smile the brightest smile, she will out-shout the choir stand But inside. She doesn’t have it all together, yet... She goes home to a husband that treats her like trash And kids that don’t even listen to what she says The only thing that she can bond with is the word of God But outside, she seems like she has it all together. People at work say that she is calm under the harassment of co-workers But she just puts on a show She is getting ready to vent anytime now She thought at first that she had everything under control. On Sundays, when she goes to church, You should hear her testimonies In her finest outfit, and in her brightest smile All of the sudden in one service God whispers: “Humble thyself and take off the mask.” She jumps up and runs to the altar The pastor looks at her, the congregation is appalled

108

Mark Wroczynski Orland Park Campus

109

Sunrise for Bloodshot Eyes Everything grows silent in the church walls The pastor asks her, “Is there any peace in your soul?” She answers: “I don’t have it all together.”

110

Shamontelle Lewis Chicago Campus

Beams of sunlight streak through closed blinds, revealing multiple tones of red and maroon. Grey and blue lines cross paths with the red, creating a landscape of plaid that is everywhere I see as it completely wraps around my body. The patterns end abruptly to the left and right as bright, white walls tower over the checkered terrain. At my feet are rolls that from my angle resemble mountains squeezing against the light brown horizontal bars that make up my footboard. As I slide my fingers across in a full sweeping motion, it is evident that I am lying in a concave trench, as weight is constantly forcing itself down on the springs. There is a dent in the mattress, but it is shaped as my body is shaped, and it feels hard to move out of. It is now impossible to rest in. My fingertips are sleepy and numb as they discover a bland, cold surface. No elements of comfort from the night before are found. Without my blankets I feel cold and tired. There is nothing to shield me from this early hour except the power of my closing eyes. As the noises from the train outside my window roar by, my discomfort skyrockets. I feel betrayed by the daylight, as karma has come to kick me in the ass. The anguish from my rude awakening of a screaming alarm clock makes me question the importance of my early classes. Nothing can

111

convince me that I want to wake up. It is purely out of necessity. I hate this place. It is the worst place on earth. My journey to college is to be my greatest achievement yet, but I’m already waiting for it to be over. There are now only 20 weeks to my associate degree, and I hate myself for wanting to get my bachelor’s. I start wondering to myself: Why must I subject myself to an everyday monotony? I’ve lost all my friends back home. My efforts to meet new people faded away and I am lonelier than I’ve ever been before. Amongst all these people too. So, I press on to class and start counting the hours to the end of the day… I sit and take notes as my hobbies turn into my education and my education turns into a job and, furthermore, into a career. My insides have been brought out. Everything I did out of love I am now doing out of routine. I have failed again to fill myself with passion and feel empty inside. These notes turn to doodles as I become distracted by a marathon of thoughts running through my head. Now these notes are as useless to my teacher as they would be to me… I have continued to work where everyone has arrived before me, but I am still early. While racking out orders, cleaning the refrigerators, and fixing up a workstation to fulfill my needs for cooking today, a coworker asks, “Are you okay? Is something wrong?” As quickly as I can I reach for the words I an-

112

swer, “Yeah, I’m fine…why do you ask?” “You just seem out of it.” “No, I’m fine,” I respond and quickly force myself away from the conversation. It makes me uncomfortable to let people in, and I try to avoid these situations whenever I can. So I put on a happy face and start making bad jokes when I feel the time is appropriate. When I think I’m not fooling anyone, I start a rant and laugh a little. It has become a science, yet another fucking routine; my whole life has become routine. All my coworkers noticed that “I am not myself,” so if I’m not myself who am I? Those I choose to open up to, the ones I feel I can trust, the ones I think I fit in with and the ones that I am myself around, all leave. So why not only be what people know me as? I can live only being a good cook, and a bit of a nut. I can accept it and move on with it. I have gotten home and now there is no one else with me. I turn to my memories. I grab a CD case completely full with music. Almost every song holds a piece of home. And I try to run away inside this precious music, without realizing every song in my library or in my CD case has grown with sentimental value and meaning. As I am almost completely isolated from my friends, family, the things I love, and the places I know, I can only relive and revisit through my songs. As the music plays, I do not go to my happy memories, rather to a world I am no longer welcome in. My memories mean nothing as they no longer make me happy. All of

113

Sun Going Down my music is trash and I keep holding on to it. I just want this day to be over. With nothing to be awake for, I return to my room and crawl into my bed. Mystical blue walls tower over me and remind me of just how small I am. I slide my fingers across in a full sweeping motion and it is evident that I am lying in a concave trench as weight is constantly forcing itself down on the springs. There is a dent in the mattress, but it is shaped as my body is shaped and feels soothing to rest in. My fingertips are pleased as they discover a soft, fluffy, warm material amongst a cold, smooth, and otherwise lifeless surface. Under the blankets I feel warm and tired. There is a weight to my covers that rests heavily upon me and shields me from negative thoughts and feelings as I make a departure from the conscious. If only I had nothing to wake up for and I could just keep sleeping. I just wish I could just keep sleeping.

114

Paul Zacsek Chicago Campus

Leslie Surrett Chicago Campus

115