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Blinded By The Bloom
I saw him, but I didn’t at all. I saw the version of him I wanted to believe in–the kind, steady presence I craved–but I was blind to the jagged, thorned edges of his reality. His red flags waved boldly in the winds of our connection, but I painted them white. I convinced myself they were signs of interest, complexity, or maybe even love. I ignored the subtle dismissiveness, the way his words sometimes left cuts rather than comfort, and the promises that crumbled as soon as they left his lips. Loving him felt like gripping a rose by the stem, ignoring the blood sprouting from my hands, focusing on the much more beautiful bloom. In my desperate longing to see the good in him, I failed to see how deeply his thorns were cutting me. I failed to see the destruction he left behind, a trail of fires that were so difficult to put out. The smoke clouded the bright aspects of myself.
It was my freshman year of high school. My first year at a new school; an opportunity to choose who I wanted to be. I made it my goal to let no one define me and to try not to get involved with any drama. Also included in my goal was not to get involved with any guy, as to focus on getting comfortable with my academics and athletics. I was doing great for the first week; I let nobody walk all over me, I had made many friends, and I was finally starting to find my groove.
That is when I met him.
My eyes were instantly drawn to him when he first walked in the door. I noticed his swooping, jet-black hair, his piercing blueish-green eyes, his rosy cheeks, his red lips. My first thought was “oh no." I knew I would do anything in my power to make him look my way. I knew that I had failed my goal. I sat there and planned it all out in my head. I was going to start a conversation with him because I saw a sticker on his laptop and I had a similar one on mine. I was going to talk about teams, sports gear, and anything else it took for him to remember me when suddenly my train of thought was interrupted. He had come and sat next to me and commented on my sticker instead. Our relationship flew from there.
Photo Credit Above: Sofia Martinez, 11th Grade
We started as best friends and eventually began “talking." It was amazing and I considered myself to be in one of the best points I had ever been in my life. There were a few questionable comments from here and there, but overall I did love him. My friends tried to warn me constantly about him, but I didn’t care. I thought he was the one for me and I couldn’t think about my school life without him, maybe even my life away from school. When suddenly one day he said something that broke down the walls that shielded me from his thorns.
“You will never be enough."
He had gotten angry because he wasn’t there when two of his best friends had got into a fight and he found himself responsible for the fight itself. I tried my hardest to assure him that it wasn’t and that I was there for him when he said it. I remember his voice being so cold and deliberate like it was a fact I should have always known. It was a fact that I failed him. Those five words carved into me, deeper than his thorns could ever reach. They echoed in every quiet moment after, seeping into my sense of self, as if I had handed him the power to rewrite the way I saw myself.
Letter to My Mirror
Dear Mirror,
Every time I look at you, you show me a face I struggle to recognize. You reflect every flaw, every tired eye, every unspoken sadness I try to hide. I search for someone in your glass, but all I see is a version of me that feels lost. You show me the person I am, but not always the person I feel like. Do you ever wish you could lie? Just once, to tell me that I’m enough? Or are you as tired as I am of pretending?
You’ve seen me at my best, standing tall with a smile I force upon my lips. And you have seen me at my worst when everything feels too heavy to carry. You know the truth–how often my eyes are filled with unshed tears, how frequently my heart aches in ways words could never fully understand.
You don’t lie to me. You don’t hide the pain in my eyes or the exhaustion in my expression. But you also don’t remind me of the strength I’ve built through every moment of breaking. You don’t show me the battles I’ve fought just to stand before you today. Maybe you see it, but you’ve never said a word.
I wish I could look at you and love what I see. I wish I could meet your gaze without searching for the things that make me feel small. But you and I both know–I am much more than my reflection. I am more than the imperfections, more than the sadness, more than the fleeting thoughts that whisper I will never be enough for you or them.
So, Mirror, if you must reflect my pain, then also reflect my resilience. If you must show my tears, then show the fire still burning brightly inside of me. Because even on my darkest days, I am still here. And that means something, something that you may never understand.
With love,
Someone Trying to Hold On
Photo Credit Above: Lily Warr, 12th Grade
Letter to My Shadow
Dear Shadow,
You are always there, lurking in my footsteps, stretching and shrinking with the passing of light. You follow me in silence, never speaking, never leaving. You are a part of me, yet you feel like a ghost–something that exists but is never truly seen.
You watch me stumble through the weight of my thoughts. You see the way my shoulders slump when no one is around, the way my hands tremble when it all becomes too much. You are there in my loneliest moments, cast onto the pavement beside me, reminding me that even when I feel invisible, a part of me remains.
But, Shadow, I wonder–do you ever grow wary of me? Do you wish to detach yourself from the weight I carry? Do you ever long to be more than just a reflection of my darkness? Or are you content with being the quiet witness to my silent battles, to my unspoken fears, to the weight I have no clue to share?
Sometimes I envy you. You exist without feeling. You follow without question. You don’t bear the burden of being too much or not enough. You are simply there, unchanged, untouched. But then I remember–you are nothing without me. You only exist because I do. And maybe that means I am something, even when I feel like nothing at all.
So, Shadow, if you must stay, then stay. If you follow me, then follow. But please, do not just be a reminder of my darkness. Be proof that no matter how heavy the night feels, I am still standing in the light.
Yours truly,
The One You Never Leave
Photo Credit Above: Noah Kitayama, 12th Grade
Letter to The Night
Dear Night,
You arrive without asking, wrapping the world in your quiet darkness. You swallow the sky, dim the colors, hush the noise. You steal the warmth of the sun and replace it with cold that seeps into my bones. And yet, somehow, you feel like the only thing that truly understands me.
In your shadows, I don’t have to pretend. The weight I carry is no longer hidden beneath forced smiles or empty conversations. You see me as I am–bare, broken, and tired. You don’t flinch when my thoughts grow too heavy. You don’t turn away when the silence becomes unbearable. You just stay.
I wonder, Night, do you ever feel lonely? Do you ever ache for the company of the sun, or do you find comfort in the quiet you bring? Because I do. I feel the loneliness in every ticking second, in every whisper of the wind, in every hollow space that daylight used to fill. I feel it when the world slows down and I am left alone with my thoughts–the ones that cut deeper when no one is watching. You hold my secrets, my restless dreams, my unshed tears. You have the words I can’t say out loud, the prayers I’m not sure anyone is listening to. You have seen the battles I fight when the world is asleep, the way my heart aches for something I can’t quite name.
But Night, for all the sorrow you bring, you also remind me of something else: I have survived you before. No matter how long you linger, no matter how heavy the darkness feels, the sun has always come back. And maybe–just maybe–it always will.
So do what you must, Night. Drown me in your silence, let the loneliness creep in. But you will not break me. Because even in the deepest darkness, I still remain.
Sincerely,
A Soul Lost in Your Shadows
Photo Credit Above: Andrew Boutte, 9th Grade
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