Some More of My Work

Acceptance Letter

 

            I came off the yellow bus expecting nothing in general. But, when I saw daddy holding that letter with the curvy S with the big black bold coloring I almost had a heart attack. But, when I opened it and saw the words: ‘Congratulations, you have been accepted into the School of the Arts! ‘On it and I almost fainted. I knew from that moment on everything would be alright and I would survive. I ran around the house and thanked God for the opportunity to get my family out of Rochester.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Depression

 

            I used to be bullied everyday ever since I was in Pre-K. It was so bad I used to think suicide was the only way either that or taking a blade across my wrist. But, I never tried to self-harm maybe in second grade when I thought I could kill myself with a seatbelt on the school bus or the time in fifth grade I admitted I wanted to kill myself. I used to and sometimes still do think nobody cares about me that I’m a minority in the world. I used to cry every single day just wishing for God to take me away from this pain on this planet called my personal Hell. I had to plaster on a fake smile for friends that didn’t love me and façade my way through the day. I thought my only friends were food and I gained almost 50 pounds over it.

 

 

 

Depression isn’t funny or fake. Its real and it hurts like no other pain. I used to have headaches every day from crying so much. I felt lonely, like nobody understood me or sympathized with me. It was good for one year because I went to the guidance counselor at school for session’s every other day but, when she had gotten fired I had nobody and that empty feeling returned. I hated how I had it but, I got over it by, talking to people and putting my pain into writing. And, ever since then I’ve been happy and pain free.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

An Office of My Own

 

            I’ve always been good in helping people. I’ve always been good in taking care of children. But, what I’m best is connecting with people with problems because I’ve got my own. I want to go to college for child psychology and help children who needs someone to talk to. I want to be doctor so I can be that professional person people address. Yeah a doctor that sounds nice, ‘Dr. Azana Reed’ that has a nice ring to it. I want my own office that requires a receptionist to direct my clients to. Yeah clients, I want to have clients that I know by first name bases and vice versa. I want a picture frame on the wall encased with my doctorate degree in it. I want an office of my own.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The L Word

 

            Everyone that knows me on a personal level calls me the L word. And I hate it. Everybody has been called the L word once or twice before, some more than others. The L word is lazy. Lazy. Even the word sounds annoying. But, I’m not lazy I can’t even sit still. When I sit down I have to be doing something, either it’s picking at my nails or shaking my leg. I don’t call it being lazy I call it selective participation. I’m selecting what I’m participating in and that’s the way it should be. The L word hates me and I hate the L word.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Getting Lost

           

            When I was little my brother and I would always jump at the chance to spend the night at my Granny’s house. We loved it there because there was basically no one there besides us, my Granny, my Granddaddy and, sometimes my aunt and her twin boys. It was fun because we got to do anything we wanted and more. So when my Granny took us to Wegmans we would love it because of the candy section of the store. So, when we would go we’d always stay by her until we’d go pass the candy section then my brother and I would sneak away to the candy section. We would look at all the candy and stuff but when we turned around our Granny was gone. So, we would walk around the store by ourselves looking for her until we find her at the checkout. We did this all the time until I turned at least 11 and my brother was 9. But, before that we was always getting lost.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Twins

 

            Everybody says I look like my dad and everyone says my brother-Hunter looks like my mom. My dad said he wanted me so bad that’s the reason I look like him. My mom said my brother was supposed to be born on Mother’s Day so that’s why he looks like her. We always joke about it at home and it becomes a family constant.

 

 

            “Go sit with your twin.” Mommy says to Daddy talking about me.

            “That’s my twin right there.” Daddy says pointing to me.

            “He doesn’t look like me I look like him.” Mommy says about Hunter.

            “I know that’s your Momma boy.” They say to my brother.

           

I love my Daddy because there’s no way he can disown me in any way. And, I love my Mommy because she loves me even though there’s no resemblance between us. I love my brother because he is always there for me as I for him and can always brighten my day. I love my family every single way.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Church

 

            Church. Everyone says church is a purgatory and isn’t fun. But, I love my church and the people in it. I go to a church out in Williamson, NY- the country. The drive is always long and dragging but, I love it anyways. The name of my church is Redeem Bethel Church of God in Christ Fellowship Center. I know long name to remember but, I love it anyways. My church is a family oriented church. Everybody is related to someone somehow someway.

 

            My late Great Grandfather help build the original church that got everything started. Then they moved to the building across the pond when more people began to join. My pastor is my Granddaddy’s cousin and one look at them side by side you can tell. Mostly all my family on my Daddy’s side goes to the church and everybody has Godchildren and I’m related to them too. I’ve been going to that church for almost three years and, been loving it ever since.

 

            You know that saying home is where the heart is. Well for my family its church is where the soul is. I love my church and I’m going to till the day I die.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The House on Chocolate Street

           

            The house on Chocolate Street is where memories begin and ends. The family in the house on Chocolate Street is a different story. They’re crazy and dysfunctional, but also loving and kind hearted. They may fight and argue, but they also hug and laugh together afterwards. The house on Chocolate Street is my house and I’m proud to say it. I love my house on Chocolate Street because I grew up in that house. I lived in it since I was two years old and my brother was raised in that house since he was born. 73 Chocolate Street is my own personal House on Mango Street and I can’t wait to grow old in it.