Nonfiction

I’ve been a pretty independent person my whole life. Where my sister needs more of a push to do things, or someone there to get her through hard times, I’m the one who does it on my own.

My hard ship is fitting in. I'm different than others, but everyones different. I ignore the cold glares and flips of hair, after all I have the longest hair.

In sixth grade, our class had a show-and-tell every week,
and every week, a small handful of students were selected to participate in the next one.
As I was selected, anxiety kicked in.
I wasn't really proud of anything.

Somehow, routines, (when they're new, or new again,) are exiting. I mean, they get old real fast, but when they're new, and you feel like you've got a clean slate, that's a good feeling.

A Generation Grown Up

By Stella Prince

At the beginning of December, I found myself on Capitol Hill for a poetry reading. I had some time to spare, so I walked around the neighborhood’s green-space, Cal Anderson Park.

Dear Santa,

For the first time in my life I am terrified.
Terrified for my life and the lives of others. 
Because this is real, this is actually happening.
Standing on the front steps before class, hearing murmurings 

In the future, I hope to start a goat farm somewhere in Castleton. I also want to help my cousin Ariana in Milton with her diner, tattoo and yoga place. I might start a bakery somewhere between Milton and Castleton too.

How fashion comes back around 

She dreamed of someone who couldn't quite be placed... 
Blonde hair laid upon her shoulders
Multiple hoops spun around her waist
She was small and thin but stood stong
A smile beamed from cheek to cheek
This person was her