Daily Prompt: Green-Eyed Lady

Daily Prompt: Green-Eyed Lady.


I guess I get jealous of love. I know I have friends, who kind of give a shit about my existance, but I just want that one person.

Jealousy is a weird emotion, you know? You want something so bad, something that would make you happy, and yet you hate the same person for having it, whether it be the newest iphone, or a better laptop, or maybe the fact that they seem so happy, content with life, that you hate them for it.

I want love so much, I hate people who display it. Now, don’t get me wrong, I seriously LOVE sex positivity. It’s great seeing everyone talking, knowing, thinking about it, and making sure they are getting testing, making sure they have the materials, making sure they are ready for it. BUT. I cringe every damn time I see a couple holding hands, kissing, making out, etc., because I don’t have that.



Reasons why I don’t really talk to professors

1.) With the experiences I’ve had, if I’m wrong, they will rub it in my face until I can’t even think anymore. It’s not even a joke anymore, it’s gotten to the point where I am terrified of it, because all my life I have been told my self-worth is linked to my intelligence, which is linked to a number that indicates how well a professor thinks I’ve learned the material.

I suppose with this I should give some small details. I’ve been diagonsed with Manic Depression, and an anxiety disorder. I have had panic attacks before. I am not the most mentally stable person in the entire world, far from it actually.

Constantly berating me leads to probably the worst points I have. Inversely, if you try to compliment me and acknowledge I do something right, I don’t accept it and think I can always do better, to be a better person.

2.) Because of anxiety, I clam up in an instant, and if I need to speak it will be in simple sentences. And when you are Mathematics major, they don’t care that you know what the derivative of x squared is, they care that you can explain everything in the universe pertaining to the question. So, panic begins to seize my voice, and soon, as quickly as I have come for help, I quickly shut up.

3.) I shame myself, for having to get help. It’s not a matter of pride, it’s a matter of my family’s attitude of me, as a “brilliant child, who will grow out of this pit and get a decent job”. They think I shouldn’t need help, I’m better off than most people. I’m the fucking Valedictorian. Apprently, I never grow out of that title now. I never grow out of the honors system, out of the list of people who dedicate their lives to pleasing the professor. Even though I have. Even though I have formed my own opinions, and came to my own conclusions, they still see me as the perfect dutiful student.

Lastly, people scare me. Period.

So, if I should leave before the end
I pray my withdrawl goes through
And if it doesn’t,

You might not see me here again.

Daily Prompt: Lookin’ Out My Back Door

Daily Prompt: Lookin’ Out My Back Door.


I actually don’t really have a backdoor. It’s more like a dorm door, that I always have my back to.

Through that dorm door, you begin in a hallway. Most of the time it reeks of vanilla candles mixed with the stink of freshmen thirsty thursday, and upper classman smoke of the gods. It’s pretty bright, almost blinding, especially if you wake up and decide you don’t want to exist today.

Walking down the hall you see boards, designed by the lovely R.A., let’s call him C. Right outside the door is one on masturbation. Always make time for some self love. Another one down the hall is on sharks. Two more, one on current events and the other on “happy mistakes”. Walk past them like they don’t exist.

Going to the left gives you a small lounge, where I spent my time avoiding my ex-roommate when he wanted to wallow in that upperclassman smoke of the gods. I also played a shit ton of video games in there. It’s a decent looking lounge, with a few comfy chairs, and some uncomfortable ones.

Going to the right leads you to the pinnacle of Emerson, or at least to me. You’ve got the holy trinnity, the kitchen, the vending machines, and the laundry room. I spend alot of time in the laundry room. Working in a dinning hall as a student manager, I need to do laundry pretty often, sometimes two loads twice a week. And, because of that, alot of times I spend my time at the vending machines. All the food, and some of the condoms you would ever need, just $2.00 in quarters. Then the kitchen, which I only use when I need a microwave.

Going further, you pass gilded mailboxes, right next to the door. You can show yourself out right?


Listen, I don’t want to go. I’ve been having so much fun, and I don’t want to leave just like that. But I have to. It’s getting late. I have homework I should start. Of course I’m not going to any parties. But still, it’s getting dark out.

And it’s raining.

But out the door I shall go with one last “Bye” and “You’re a dick”. It’s been lovely. Really. I’d love to come by more often to see you and I’d love it if you talked to me more. But for now I guess it’s fare well.

Out into the cruel world, where the darkness of the night means danger, means terror, and not the kind that sleep under the bed. Even they wouldn’t come out in this weather.

First minutes out the door, and I’m already soaked. I’m running down the hill, into Campus Center even though my trip will take that much longer. I guess I just hate the rain.

Or maybe I hate that I’m uncomfortable. Maybe it’s how soaked my jacket is, and how my laptop is surely waterlogged. How I regret leaving in the first place.

It’s probably best I left, though. I mean, maybe my timing was wrong. He did say you seemed like you wanted a friend and some release. It’s weird, I get it. Trust me, I’m awkward as hell, too.

But enough about that, it’s time to go back into the rain. The rain that, as a whole, can change a course of action, causing a person to stray so far from their intended destination. The rain can hold you back, in your shell of a house, if you don’t know how to deal with it. And even though that rain is an incredible force, the rain is not one singular thing. The rain is individual droplets, driving a whole, splattering on your glasses as you walk home, or dampening your phone making it impossible to move on.

I like to think the rain is like memories, raining down on you. And when it rains, it pours to remind you of things that you have done, things others have done onto you.

Like that first love, who left you.

Like that first death, that joined the others in eternity

Everything, reflected in each, single droplet. Raining down on you. Drowning you in grief and happiness.

A downpour of memories.

And now I’m home. And I guess I’m a bit more wiser. I still didn’t want to leave. I want to go back to you.

But all I can say for now,
is next time,
bring an umbrella.


Daily Prompt: Que Sera Sera

Daily Prompt: Que Sera Sera.

There are times I believe in “the future is set, and you will discover your destiny”. Most of the time, however, I feel like destiny is something you yourself have to create, carve out of the stone that is your life. That is to say, your actions create your future, your “fate”, as it is.

I like to use the analogy of my favorite thing ever, video games. There’s one particular one I love so much, part of the Zero Escape series, called Virtue’s Last Reward. The game is built around this mechanic of being able to rewind in a timeline and choose a different action, causing a different outcome. Every different action, different choice gave either some kind of Game Over, or revealed more of the story plot, making it so you had to use the “rewind” function to actually complete the game.

Although you can’t rewind your life, your current life will choose your future life, and one small thing can create a whole different outcome. So, although through this logic, it seems there is a path that will always be set out, like the video game. The thing is, you have to get this path. Maybe you end up somewhere else, off the timeline (you broke physics. Congratulations.).

Anyway, no more tangents, there is such thing as destiny, but you create it, but actions can be traced to form a line, but you have to perform these actions which will then follow the line and ow, my brain malfunctioned.

Common Core: A Rant from a Mathematics/Computer Science Major

In recent weeks, I have been seeing articles and comments on Common Core techniques, specifically what my friends have so lovingly named “Dyslexic Maths”. It’s interesting to see all of the different opinoins from everyone (and I’m not going to lie, watching parents and teachers duke it out online has been fantastic as well. You have no idea how funny it is to watch a bunch of people who think they are right just scream online at each other.)

I’m not here to pick sides, I just to show how this can be a good thing for our outdated school system, and could potentionally add to the weight of ideas and theories children may not have to know once looking for higher learning or a career.

This method has actually been around for a while, it just hasn’t been taught to a large amount of children because it was primarily for number-dyslexic children. My friend remembers being taught this, because he wasn’t able to understand how taking away 24 from 40 is 16, unless it was broken down into numbers he could work with.
Exposing this method to all students could help them understand the break down of numbers, and could possibly help teachers and parents identify if their student does have the number-based dyslexia.

The problem may be that some students could have already become comfortable with simply subtracting the “old way”, taking a number, then “taking away” a different number to get an answer. If they know this way, and are comfortable with this way, breaking it down may cause some un-needed frustration.
And what about when they get to upper math, like algebra. Say they have to solve for x in the equation x+233=750. They wouldn’t have the time to subtract that by breaking it down, and personally I’d rather my future children be able to do math in their head than rely on technology.
Another problem is the parents, who by default were taught how to subtract the original way. They will have no idea how to help their children. And I know internet is a common thing, but there are instances in more rural areas there is a lack of internet, and even public libraries. What do families do then? Talk to the teacher is an option, but I’ve seen the inside of a kindergarden classroom in New York. It’s not pretty, and a large amount of families either don’t have the time and/or energy to talk to the teacher, or just don’t care. I know it’s sad to say it, but I’ve seen children who should be in 12-1-1 classrooms, but parents won’t consent to a mental check up of the child even.

So, I wish we could teach all students the way they need to be taught in the beginning, but even teachers will tell you there is a lack of time and not enough adults in the room to cater to each students needs. The only way I can think that this will work is if you allow for occurances where students will understand subtraction without this method, and introduce it to another way for students to understand subtraction. Don’t punish students who already have one method down, but allow for others to learn it.



Queer is… (Negative)

When you are five
it might be the name of
the monster under your bed
or maybe
the way kids look at you funny.

at age twelve
It might be the boogie man
watching you from your closet.
Or maybe
it’s the same kids in the locker room
talking about you.

now you are 15,
it might be a movie,
like Saw or Scream,
Or maybe
it’s the teachers
who refuse to see
how broken you are.

age 20,
it is the feeling of alone
No family.
No friends.
No life.

age 21,
is the reaper coming
in the form of three guys
at a bar
coming at you with knives
or maybe
it’s yourself
already disconnected from life.

the flowers that the people who loved you
leave for you.
Your mother, watching the days
knowing you won’t be back.
Your father, looking at the football
and regretting calling you
a fag when you refused to play.
Your sister, hugging her pillow every night
wishing you were there instead.
Your brother, keeping everything inside
bottled up because
He doesn’t want to end up like you.
Your best friend, who keeps looking at their phone
but knows
you won’t text
or call.
Or be there at all.