Writing Gallery

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Homemade Constellations

Before I knew how to make homemade
constellations, I used to
draw out the ones that had already been
found,

Before I knew how to ask the clouds for
advice, I used to ask friends with
bad habits,

Before I knew how to tie my shoes,
I used to wear light-up velcro Skechers,

Before I knew how to chase fireflies, I
used to just look at them, see them blink
into existence for one moment and
then melt into the night sky,

Before I knew that the earth
is a whole lot bigger than my city,
I used to think we were alone,

Before I knew how to write in English,
I used to write in Spanish,

Before I knew how important writing
Spanish would be, I forgot it,

Before I knew that one day my
grandmother would pass, I used to
think that we would have talks
forever,

Before I knew that one day even
the stars would burn out, and that
my constellations would crumble,

Before I knew that the stars we
see are already dead, and we’re just
watching their legacy, light-years away,
fade,

Before I knew that the dandelions
I wished on were dead, I used to
look at the immortal stars and write
my legacy on them.

My Good-but-Bad Favorite Holiday

You are probably wondering: what’s her favorite holiday?

Well, my favorite holiday is Christmas. And no, it isn’t because of the presents, because I don’t get that many. I only got a couple of things last Christmas: a 100 emoji pillow, new nail polish, a cute, fluffy teddy bear, and some money—but I still was grateful because some kids can’t get any Christmas presents at all, and that’s not what Christmas is about anyway. The reason why Christmas is my favorite holiday is because it’s a time to spend time with family and for me and my sisters to change up the game and buy the adults some things.

When my grandma Darlene, my grandad Tevel, my aunt Sarah and her two sons Demarcus and Timothy, and my stepdad Kyron came over, me, my mom Tiffany, and my two sisters Marchell and Amaria were already at home cooking. I cooked the cakes (yes, I want to be a pastry chef), and my mom cooked the rest of the food (like the dressing, chicken, etc.). We had an amazing time playing games, watching movies, and all of that.

Then, a good holiday turned into a bad one. My mom and my aunt cannot get along. They started arguing over some crazy stuff (I kind of forget what it was). Then, my aunt left with her two sons, which made me mad. Then, my grandma and grandad left, and that made me mad also. All I wanted was for us to spend family time together, but they couldn’t cooperate, so the night ended early—and so did my good-but-bad holiday.

20 Years from Now

It’s okay If I’m not the one you wake up
to every morning
It’s okay if I’m not the girl you always dreamed of
But
I just hope that I’m the girl you think of about
20 years from now
When you’re staring at your coffee cup, disappointed.
Wishing that you didn’t put so much milk in, because
now it’s too creamy and light
To resemble the dark brown in my eyes
I just want to be the girl you think of,
about 20 years from now, too scared to touch
the letters of my name with your lips
Because love at its purest gives you a migraine
And when I go permanently,
I just hope that the air around you is
too thick to breathe
Because that’s exactly how I felt.
When I didn’t think I could survive without you
And when I couldn’t breathe because
I couldn’t survive without you, and that was your fault
When you sent me to drown in my own tears.
 

You Shine Like Aphrodite

Dear Mom,

I love you Mom.
Thank you for everything you have given me
You shine like Aphrodite (goddess of love and beauty)
Because you are loving and beautiful
I wish I could count how many hugs you give me 
You are the number-one mom in the whole wide world
I hope you love me too
You are like a butterfly flying to the sky as an angel and 
bird
In the evening you shine like the horizon
You are like a ladybug that solves problems as a finance 
agent 
 

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And the Rest Is Noise

Interviews & Reflections From The Students Of 826CHI’s 2017 Pitchfork Music Writing Intensive

by the 826CHI Teen Press Corps

Read it here >>

On Our Way Home

by Sofiya C., grade 8

Untitled

by Sam W, grade 9

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