Creative Preface for Portfolio Poem

When she can’t sleep at night,

she thinks of what to write.

 

Ideas flow through her mind,

like visions of an acid trip,

Dripping with raw emotion and real-life experience.

 

She sits in front of her computer until her fingers hack at the keys.

There’s a story in there somewhere.

A story that originates from a young girl who lost her way.

A story of mental illness at its finest: paranoid schizophrenia.

 

It’s a blessing when it comes to writing, but it’s a curse when it comes to writing.

Too many ideas flowing at once, mostly good ideas. Mostly…

 

She’s been writing since she was young.

Her mother always told her to write how she felt.

So she did.

It started with letters from her mom, trying to help her understand reality.

Years later, she wrote letters back to her mom about how she turned out okay.

 

She advertises her books in hopes of someday making it big.

Maybe one day someone will discover her.

 

For now, she just keeps writing to escape reality.

To create her own story, the characters are her friends.

In the end, she’s not alone. Her characters are on her side.

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“Culvers” Play

CHARACTERS:

LOGAN, a 26-year-old labor working man, husband

NIKKOLE, a 26-year-old student in community college, wife

SETTING:

In a 2011 Kia Soul (car)

TIME:

Present

In the middle of a crowded city, surrounded by traffic; the camera lights above the top of the silver Kia Soul sedan. A young woman in the passenger seat with curly brown hair sits restlessly in the seat and is staring out the window in contemplation of something. A young man is driving with a red mohawk and is looking out the rear-view mirror in annoyance.

NIKKOLE: Ugh! There’s nothing to do in this town!

LOGAN: (tapping his fingers on the steering wheel, then gripping it tight.) You’d think as many restaurants we have here there’d be something to do.

NIKKOLE: We could go eat I guess. (she looks at Logan in thought.)

LOGAN: Mhmmm. (he stares deep into the traffic in front of him.) COME ON! (he yells at no one in particular. Nikkole jumps in her seat in surprise.)

NIKKOLE: Is that a yes or a no? (she frowns at him)

LOGAN: (clears his throat and looks over at her as they are at a standstill in traffic.) Yes. We can get something to eat, but that brings us to a problem. (he smiles unexpectedly)

NIKKOLE: (she scrunches her face in confusion) And what problem might that be?

LOGAN: You can never decide on where to eat. It’s always a game. I give you three options and you say “no” to all three. I give you four more and you choose one of the first three. (he stares back into traffic waiting for her reply. He can’t look her in the eye even though he knows he’s right.)

NIKKOLE: (huffs in disapproval) Fine. Give me three options and I’ll pick. (she crosses her arms in anger. It’s not a game. It’s not her fault nothing ever sounds good and she’s so indecisive.)

LOGAN: Okay. So do you want a sit down restaurant or do you want to just pick something up.

NIKKOLE: (looks out the window again and lets out a heavy sigh) I don’t know…

LOGAN: (rolls his eyes) Here we go…

NIKKOLE: Fine. Let’s go sit down somewhere.

LOGAN: That narrows our options. Fazoli’s, Dairy Queen, or Culvers?

NIKKOLE (lets out a smile) Are you craving ice cream or something? (she giggles)

LOGAN: I never turn down ice cream.

NIKKOLE: (looks back out the window at the mall. Thoughts swarm into her head. None of those places sounded that great.) I’m tired of the same old places here.

LOGAN: But you have so many options! Just pick one!

NIKKOLE: Ugh! Okay. Culvers… I think.

LOGAN: No! There’s no “I think” about it. It’s either yes or no!

NIKKOLE: Yes, Mr. Bossy. Let’s go to Culver’s.

(they drive in silence for the next five minutes. “Bulletproof” by Godsmack whines through the car speakers. When they arrive and park at Culver’s, they walk to the door and Nikkole reaches over and grabs Logan’s hand. They interlock their fingers in between their hands. They walk up to the entrance. Logan holds the door for Nikkole. Nikkole giggles quietly.)

LOGAN: What?

NIKKOLE: Nothing. (she laughs out loud.)

LOGAN: Tell me! (Logan is irritated.)

NIKKOLE: (so matter-of-factly) Man, I was really craving Dairy Queen. (Nikkole smiles up at Logan as they stand in front of the counter to order.)

(Logan rolls his eyes and starts telling the cashier his order.)

(Fade to black.)

“School” Poem

Why did I drop out?

Why was school so difficult?

Why was being in love all I cared about?

Why did my so called “friends” get me in so much trouble?

Why was I hanging out with the wrong crowd?

Why could I not concentrate on my work?

Why was it so hard for me to make friends?

 

Why did I not listen to my guidance counselor?

Why did I just not care?

Why did I sleep in class?

How did I make it out alive?

Why didn’t I drop out sooner?

How did I get my G. E. D.?

 

Why did I want to work instead of going to school?

Why was I so adamant on starting a new life?

Why did I think moving out and having a job would make me better?

How did I do drugs at school and not get caught?

How did I get away with getting searched when I had weed on me that one time?

How did I get away with coming to school stoned?

How did I not get addicted to drugs?

 

Why could I not tell the future?

Why could I not see what I was becoming?

How could I say, “I’m never going to college”?

“Ryan” Short Story (Flash Fiction)

February 14th, 2017

Dear Diary,

I sit here all alone in an empty house with an empty heart. Tears flow down my face. Valentine’s Day is just another day for me, a very depressing day. I don’t think I will ever love again.

January 1st, 2015

Dear Diary,

Happy New Year! I spent most of my night at a party with Ryan and some of his friends. We sipped a little champagne but neither of us are major drinkers. It was fun. We kissed when the ball dropped on T.V. at midnight. Everything just feels so perfect. I feel like we’re growing into a deep relationship. It’s happening so fast, but I feel like it’s for the good of things. We’ve been dating a year as of next month, and I still feel like I could spend the rest of my life with him. I’m wondering if he has something special planned?

February 2nd, 2015

Dear Diary,

Yay! Today is Ryan and I’s 1-year anniversary! At school he told me he had something planned for us, but he just seemed different. He seemed upset about something or preoccupied. It was just weird. So he picked me up at 7PM and we went to CiCi’s pizza buffet. He let me talk most of the night. He didn’t say much. He kept looking down at the table. I asked him what was wrong, and he would just smile and say “nothing”. It was a good night, I just wish I knew what was wrong with him.

February 7th, 2015

Dear Diary,

Today was wonderful. Ryan and I laid in the back of his truck bed and kissed for a while under the stars. Here in California the weather is typically nice, so we just laid there and talked for hours. Ryan asked me a weird question. It really kind of bothered me but he wouldn’t elaborate why he asked. He asked me if I’d ever had a relationship with a girl. I said “no”. Then I asked why and he said he was just curious. Maybe he’s one of those guys that has a lesbian fetish or something. He never said any more about it. It was a beautiful night. One I will never forget. He told me after high school he was going to enlist in the army. He asked me if I’d wait for him while he went through basic training. I said of course. I’m pretty sure I’m in love. When I first saw him at school a couple of years ago, I knew I wanted to find out more about him. He just seemed different than regular guys. Now, here I am, head over heels in love with him.

 

 

 

 

February 8th, 2015

Dear Diary,

I had so much fun with Ryan today. We’re becoming so close. He seems so different. He’s not like other guys. Oh, if only I could’ve met him earlier in high school. He just moved here our sophomore year. He hangs out with some misfits, but I wouldn’t say they are a bad crowd. There is this one girl he talks to a lot. She’s transgender. She’s transitioning from being a guy into a girl. He’s really close to her. She calls herself Chasity. I’ve known her as Chase all he life. Never did I ever get a hint that he would become a girl. Overall, Ryan’s great. It’s just sometimes he seems to be secretive. He always acts like he’s hiding something. It bothers me. I tell him all the time to be open with me and he assures me he is.

February 13th, 2015

Dear Diary,

Tomorrow is Valentine’s Day. I can’t wait to see Ryan. I’m sure he went all out for me. Candies, flowers, a lovely card. He spoils me so! I wrote up a nice card for him. I wrote “Ryan, my one true love; I will love you forever and always. May nothing ever come between us. May we always find happiness within each other. I love you. -Gina”

February 13th, 2015

I was so happy when Ryan picked me up, so full of excitement. He’s such a romantic, so I was sure it was going to be a great date. He wanted to do Valentine’s Day a day early. I’m still not sure why. Of course, as soon as I sat down in his green pickup truck, he pushed a dozen roses at me in a beautiful bouquet. He kissed me on the cheek and told me “Happy Valentine’s Day”. The whole drive to Flat Top Grill he held my hand in the middle of the console. It was the interlaced fingers type of hand holding. Not him literally putting his hand on mine. It’s as if our hands were meant to interlock, they just fit so perfectly. I couldn’t stop smiling. I was so happy. This is the guy I’m going to spend the rest of my life with. We’re going to prom this year, our senior year. I just feel like fate has brought us together. I can’t imagine my life without him. When we were at Flat Top I couldn’t stop talking out of nervousness. We’ve only been together a year, but he still gives me the butterflies when I’m around him. He just looked me directly in the eye, smiled, and listened. It was a simple date, one for the books. I expected a bit more romance, but it’s okay. I enjoyed my time with him.

February 18th, 2015

Dear Diary,

I know it’s been a few days. I’m sorry. I’ve just been so lost in my thoughts and I just didn’t feel like writing. After Ryan dropped me off at home for the night of our date, he surprised us all. He committed suicide. He shot himself up with heroin and then slit his wrists. The police think he didn’t succeed with his planned heroin overdose, so he had to slit his wrists. I just don’t understand. He didn’t leave a note, he just left us all in the dark. There were no signs leading up to it. He was perfectly happy, his same old self. I’m still in shock. I keep looking at my phone hoping he’ll text me, but I keep having to tell myself he’s gone. If I knew Ryan as well as I thought I did, I know he would never do drugs, especially heroin. I just feel so numb. I don’t know what to do. We had our whole life planned out with each other. I just can’t figure out why he’d do this to us, especially me. He always talked about how he planned to spend the rest of his life with me and one day we’d live in a farm house out in the country away from everyone. We’d have a few kids…. Everything was supposed to end out perfect. Why did he not only ruin his life, but mine as well?

February 20th, 2015

Dear Diary,

Today I went to see Ryan’s parents. They left his room exactly as if he was still coming home. I went in his room and threw myself down in the middle of his full-size bed. I looked up at the ceiling. He had a Pink Floyd cloth poster on the ceiling. I didn’t know he even liked Pink Floyd. I thought he listened to new music. I found myself alone in my thoughts again in his room. I kept looking at my phone out of habit, but no one was texting me. All I saw was a picture of Ryan and I on my lock screen of my iPhone. I talked with his mom about him a little bit. She said he always spoke very highly of me, but he didn’t tell me everything about himself. It was as if she was hiding a secret. I needed to know. What did I not know about Ryan?

February 20th, 2015

Dear Diary,

Everything I thought I knew was a lie. Ryan’s (if I can even call this person that) mom showed me baby pictures. He was not born a boy. He was born a girl. Ryan was transgender. Of course, we made out a lot, but we never got to having sex. We didn’t think we were ready. Little did I know, Ryan didn’t want to have sex because of his gender dysphoria. He was going to get his bottom surgery the summer after our senior year. He was practically living a double life. That’s why he was so close to Chasity because she was transgender too. His parents put him on hormone blockers when he was young, so he never filled out like a girl. He worked out constantly and was taking hormone replacement (testosterone) shots, so he was built like a boy. He looked exactly like a high school boy. I just can’t believe I never thought about it or noticed it. I feel like I’ve been left in the dark! I guess I’m going to have to think about this.

February 20th, 2015

Dear Diary,

After talking with Ryan’s mom, I feel like all the signs were there. The night of our 1-year anniversary is when his depression started, at least that’s what his mom thought. She said he just stayed in his room and didn’t talk much. He would crank up his music and just lay in bed. She said she thought she heard him sniffling like he was crying but she wasn’t sure. She tried reaching out to him and he wouldn’t tell her what was going on. So here we are basically in the dark wondering why he did this. I almost wonder if it was because he was basically lying to me every time he was with me. I don’t understand why he wouldn’t just tell me he was trans. Then again, I don’t know if I would’ve accepted him in the beginning knowing that fact. God, I’m just so confused. I can’t stop crying.

 

 

February 14th, 2017

Dear Diary,

I find myself coming back to you, seeking some sort of sympathy. My own pity party, I suppose. I just can’t believe it’s been two years since the love of my life has left me. So many unanswered questions. I will never be attracted to another person. I will always love him more than I ever will anyone else. There’s nothing like your first love. It’s an indescribable feeling. Well I’m not sure what else to write so I guess I’ll continue crying but stop here.

February 14th, 2018

Dear Diary,

So now after 3 years of being without my significant other, I’m questioning my sexuality. Am I straight? Am I gay? Am I pansexual? Am I a lesbian? What am I? There are just so many choices. I’m pretty much over the fact that Ryan was a pre-operation trans guy, but it leaves me wondering who I’m attracted to. Ryan was a girl this whole time. Does that make me a lesbian?

February 14th, 2018

Dear Diary,

After much thought, I think I’ve decided I’m pansexual. I obviously don’t have a problem dating trans guys and I could see myself with a girl, plus I judge people more on their personality than I do their looks. I just hope one day I can love again. I feel like I’ll never meet another person like Ryan. He was perfect. I still find myself wondering why he had to do this to me. I think it’s something I will never get over. I just hope he’s finally at peace with himself.

February 15th, 2018

I know I haven’t written much, I’m sorry. I’ve just been so busy. I’m in my first year at a four year college and I don’t think I’ve ever had this much homework. I’m trying to move on with my life, but it’s so difficult. Especially when you can’t find another person like your first love. I know it’s partly my fault, because I don’t ever give anyone a chance. I’m just so scared. I don’t want to be tricked again. I don’t want to lose someone again. Losing Ryan was the hardest thing I’ve ever gone through. I know I have to move on.

 

“Depression” Poem

de·pres·sion \~\n. 1. The chill down your spine when you’re in a room full of people but feel so utterly alone. 2. The feeling of not having the motivation to do anything or go anywhere; talking to someone even seems like too much work. 3. The silence you long to hear when your mind is thinking dark thoughts. 4. Sleep seems like a great escape from reality 5. Feeling numb: I spend my days crying, I spend my nights crying/I wallow alone in my own self-pity/this feeling I just cannot shake/I’m not sure how much more I can take/the overwhelming feeling of everything around me/I don’t want to hurt anymore/crying/crying/I feel so alone in the world/I can’t breathe out of my nose from crying so much/My eyes sting from crying so much/I wake up in the morning and my eyes are swollen from crying so much/I feel like such a burden to everyone/Why do I feel these feelings/Why is being happy so hard to do?

“Amanda” Poem (an Anaphora poem)

I’ll never forget a girl I used to know.

I called her my MandaBoo.

She had long, wavy, bright blonde hair.

Green eyes, that sparkled in the sun.

Black thick-rimmed glasses.

They made her look innocent.

 

I’ll never forget a girl I used to know,

that beautiful dress she used to wear,

It was yellow and black tartan,

More like a jumper, really.

Her pale skin glowed in it.

 

I’ll never forget a girl I used to know,

The way people watched in disgust

as we kiss in the hallway.

My arms wrapped neatly around her waist.

The way her hand fit into mine.

 

I’ll never forget a girl I used to know,

the time she saw me at the mall,

She tackled me with a bear hug.

We fell to the floor.

It felt like it was just her and I.

 

 

 

 

I’ll never forget a girl I used to know,

How we got into a fight on Facebook,

About how her boyfriend was cheating on her.

She got upset and blocked me.

 

I’ll never forget a girl I used to know,

I added her back on Facebook,

After years of not speaking.

I see her posts, but we still don’t speak.

I’ve thought about deleting her,

But I can’t get myself to let go.

 

I’ll never forget how much I loved her,

That girl I used to know.

Since I’m done with my Creative Writing class…

I’m going to be posting some of my work from the class on here. I have 7 pieces. 4 poems, a short story, and a play. I just finished the revisions on all of them last night. I have to print them all out with the original before revisions and make it into a portfolio. Stay tuned. I’ll post one tonight and schedule some more for the week.