Motherless Brother



We all know sadness one way or another. We’ve witness sadness in many ways, whether it was a loss of a friend or a loss of a family member. Not only through grief do we experience deep emptiness in our bodies and souls, but through anything that can trigger a tear or two–a piece of music, something that someone says, a certain smell that reminds you of your past lover–pretty much anything.

I have a brother that suffers through sadness daily. He’s the baby of the family and happens to live in a household full of introverts when he himself is an extrovert. He complains of the lack of going out making him feel down, and often. I try taking him out once in a while, but once in a while isn’t enough. His sadness runs deeper, however. It’s not just the lack of activity in his life that’s making him sad, but, he lacks confidence in himself. He believes to be ugly, has never had a girlfriend and doesn’t have any friends that are willing to spend time with him after school.

He’s rather lonely and anxious. His sadness runs deeper still. Not only does he yearn to run free in the world, lack the esteem that he would want, and suffer loneliness at its core, he’s in the grief of our mother that passed about 10 years ago now. Thus, this emotion he is feeling is not sadness, but depression.

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The Quiet One


A.K.A the shy girl, the shy guy, the silent type, the person either no one notices or everyone talks about, the one that causes class-wide silences when asked to read a passage or picked to answer a question, the one that everyone is somewhat afraid of because they never say anything–also known as the introvert.

This is a pretty difficult personality to have. I say this because shyness is often associated with other qualities and terms that are negative–lack of self-esteem, anti-social, self-hating, no friends, et cetera. Sometimes this trait is viewed positively, as we shy people are often modest, nice, and caring, but then that seems to give the incentive to others to take advantage of us, like copying our homework or making us drive people to places, or even convince us to give people money.

Not all introverts are shy people-pleasers, however. There are those of us who are just as confident as extroverts–even as stubborn against doing tasks for others–it’s just that we prefer to spend most of our free time alone. Of course, similar and same negative connotations arise for us who are in fact loners–anti-social, having no (social) life, lack of being in intimate relationships, so on and so forth. But, this is hardly true–in fact, the opposite often exists without people realizing or taking the time to get to know their introverted counterpart.

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This is a topic that has been gnawing at the edge of my brain for a long time.


Women have been shaving their legs only recently in human history–and now it’s become so normal that there are men out there that believe women are naturally hairless, as we tend to get rid of hair, well, everywhere. The thing that was bugging me for so long was, why? Why does it matter that women shave their legs? Can’t we let our bodies grow what’s natural and then run with the wind and cannonball right into a pool or ocean?

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Image result for slots




*ding, ding, ding* *whiiiirrr* “You’re a winner!”

“I just won $100!” (after spending $150 total)

This is where the point of no return begins. The hypnotizing colors, the little tug of hope every time you spin that wheel or pull that lever, or pick up those cards, the satisfaction of making even the smallest win, the devastation when all your winnings or money spent go down the drain after being a little too hopeful, sometimes there’s the exhilaration of making a big win, thinking it could happen again.

This is the beginning of the end for a lot of people. This is the start of gambling addiction.

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(Pt. 3) When I was a young girl…



As everyone pretty much agrees, teenage years were very awkward, confusing, frustrating, and maddening, to say it lightly. Just as I was talking about selfishness, at this stage in life, I was very selfish–and confused, and self-critical, and just angry with myself mostly. I was passive-aggressive, quiet, and quite vicious when the wrong buttons were being pushed–and because I let those buttons be pressed by, what I call, “mental terrorists” (okay, I admit–Dane Cook said that), the anger just built up, like constantly shaking a soda can. You shake it, constantly, wondering “what would happen”, and–



I became a terrible, terrible person to the people I loved, and those strangers who enjoy public dramas thought it was the best thing they’ve ever seen–turning a quiet, laid-back, genuinely nice and sweet girl into the beast they wanted to see.

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(UPDATED) PLEASE SHARE: A Beagle Named Skylo


(Source) (Not an actual picture of Skylo)

Based on a true story.

M loved animals. From taking an injured squirrel to her home to take care of to putting back a Robin’s egg back to the mother’s nest, M was a very caring, nature-loving girl. It’s why we get along so well–although we both grew up around the urban capital of the U.S., in our hearts we were rural girls. Or, at least we wanted to be. For 13 years we’ve been through many of life’s tests, from teaching each other different ways of coping with our stressful families to being each other’s rock when the rest of the world seemed untrustworthy and dangerous (more stories about our friendship later).

I remember being there when M picked out Skylo. He came from a family of beagles, with several other pups. M wanted a dog so bad–and I didn’t blame her. Her last dog was put down simply because he was a pitbull, and the neighborhood believed that he was aggressive and a “danger to the community”, even though he has never hurt a soul.

Regardless, after mourning for a couple years, M received her new shaky, scared yet adorable little creature named Skylo. Her family was delighted by his presence.

beagle puppy little older.jpg

(Source) (Not an actual picture of Skylo)

Skylo was a sweet, delightfully playful dog–however, it wasn’t long before M’s Ethiopian parents thought that the “delightful Skylo” was an annoyance–especially to her older brother, Iyasu.

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When I was a young girl…(Part 1)


(Source) (I actually have brown eyes, but this is beautiful nonetheless!)

My father…took me into the city, to see a marching band… (any MCR fans out there? God, I wish they’d reunite.)

I was adorable, I have to admit. The way I snickered when I put a little prank on someone, knowing the amount of trouble I’d get into.

But then, it dawned on me. When I was mischievous and mean to others, I realized that I was the bully. I was the one causing them pain. In the long run, they would ask themselves, “what have I done to her to deserve this?”

Continue reading “When I was a young girl…(Part 1)”