Megumi
Hi!! Welcome to my writing world! On this page, I have laid out three of my favorite-key turning points in works that I have written throughout the years. Along with each piece's feedback, also displayed are two of my favorite books that have inspired me to write and form the writing style that I have today. Though this is exhibited in a chronological timeline, you obviously do not have to read my writings in this order! Feel free to even skim through! Thank you for reading this. It means a lot to me!! :)
Piece #1: Spill It
Approx. December 2018
“But I’ve never done it!” I yell angrily. This is the fourth time my mom and I were having this argument, IN A ROW!
“But why?! It’s the best thing ever! Besides, it will help you distract yourself, especially with all the things going on!” My mom yells back.
“Ugh! Mom, just because I go to camp does not mean that everything will go back to normal! Besides, I've never been to camp!”
“But Talia, it will help you. I know you haven't been to camp before, but try something new for once! Instead of moping around the house, listening to music, touching your phone and sleeping all day!”
“And what’s wrong with that?”
“Because you—”
“Look mom, I just don’t understand why you want me to go to camp! If you want me to distract myself, then being happy and doing what I want will help!” I say back, not caring at all if I interrupted her. “What if I don’t want to go? What’s so wrong about that?”
“Well, there’s nothing wrong—”
“See?—”
“But you should! It will be more healthy for you!”
“OMYGOSH! WHAT DO YOU KNOW ABOUT STAYING HEALTHY?! LOOK AT YOU AND DAD ALWAYS ARGUING, NON-STOP! ISN’T THAT WHAT YOU CALL UNHEALTHY?!” I say angrily. I know I crossed the line, but mom just doesn't understand.
“NATALIA GRACE KELLY PERRI! HOW DARE YOU SPEAK TO ME THAT WAY—” Then Mom’s voice broke. She started crying, in between sobs, she told me, “You know, it's been very hard for all of us, but this is—you've taken this to a different level. Now, go to your room. When you have something better to say and want to apologize, you—”
I slam the door to my room, with fire and anger. Ugh! That mother! I drop on to my bed, hard. My dog, Lonnie, hops off and goes under the bed, scared and whimpering.
“Sorry, Lonnie,” I say half-heartedly. “It’s mom's fault, not yours.” Then I felt somewhat bad about mom because I was blaming everything on her and said, “and dad...both of them.” I turn over onto my stomach and look underneath my bed. There was Lonnie very scared (as I could tell) and whimpering.
“Awww. Sorry Lonnie, come here” Lonnie, still a little frightened (which I would be too if I were her, considering to what I had just done. This was the first time I had raised my voice at her) comes to me and licks my face.
After a while, I get up and go to our desk. It’s annoyingly messy, like always. A big heap, because of my messy and SUPER DUPER ANNOYING (even more than that) sister, Liv. I hurry to clean up my side and remind myself to yell at Liv later. I finally find my phone underneath all that junk of blah. I touch my phone case—oh, so soft. Anyways, more importantly, my texts and other apps. When it comes to my phone time, I have to do a lot of stuff. But first, music. I turn on my fave song, and I was ready to rock and roll, when I heard it. A scream or more like a very, very loud yell, coming from downstairs. I quickly go down the stairs and check if everything was ok. Which I knew it was not, but well, you know what I mean. I stop, to see mom and dad arguing about I don’t know what; something about me and the curse. What?! When I see it's just them, I go back upstairs to my room and slam the door. I quickly put my earbuds in tight and I push them as far as my ears will let me. I put the volume all the way to the top. I get absorbed.
Just then, the door opens, and in walks Liv. Her face was bright red and was wearing a scowl.
“You okay?” I ask, somewhat concerned, but trying to mask it.
“Why would you care?!” She says and goes up to the ladder to her top bunk. Thump and sniffle. It doesn't sound like she's okay. I know why, but I want to hear it from her. But then again, she’s in high school, so she should deal with it on her own. A door slams really loud downstairs. I don’t know what just happened, but I think, or I know, somebody just left. I hurry to my window and see that it was my dad. I watch him as he gets into his blue Mercedes car and drives off.
“What a jerk,” a voice says behind me. I spin around to see Liv. I don’t comment on what she says. I’m too angry to even process what she just said. I’m about to rip my pillows to pieces when a hand touches my shoulder. I turn to see Liv who tells me,“Let's go down stairs to see if moms okay and to get the juice.”
I could tell she was trying to make me laugh but it didn't work. I didn’t laugh. I follow her. I find mom in the kitchen, preparing dinner. She doesn't look angry or sad, just stressed and tired. I notice that her lawyer jacket has dropped to the floor, like she just lost a case. We stare at her for a while.
“Mom, what happened?” I ask.
“Your dad just left,” Mom said, like it was obvious. I know it is but like,
“Why did dad leave?”
“I don’t know. Ask him.”
“But Mom-”
“I DON’T KNOW, NATALIA!”
“But—”
“THIS IS WHAT YOU WANTED! NOW YOU GOT WHAT YOU WANTED, SO GO TO YOUR ROOM!”
“Whaat?! I never said anything like that, mom. I just came to find out what happened and to ask if you were okay."
“NO, YOU DIDN’T. NOW GO.”
“But mom—”
“Sylvia. Take Natalia up. Now!”
“You know, you are not the only one who’s angry. So stop taking it all on me!” I scream as Liv pulls my arm out of its socket and drags me up to our room. As soon as the door closes, Liv goes up to her bed and crosses her arms,
“Spill. Now,” Liv says, demanding and angry.
“Spill what?!”
Liv glares at me like what just happened was all my fault, when it clearly was NOT.
“Look, I don’t even know what just happened back there, but I have nothing to do with it. I can tell you that.”
“Yes, you do. Even I know it. Now tell me!”
“But—”
“NO. Tell me from the beginning and that's an order.”
“What!? You can’t—”
Liv glares at me so hard that I swear her eyeballs were glued to me. I realize that there's no other way so I sigh and say,
“Fine.”
"Spill It" — Feedback
In this third effort of the I-want-to-write-a-book-and-I-am-aiming-to-achieve-it-right-now phase, I was twelve years old. I was obsessed with becoming a famous best-selling author and expanding my dreamlike stories into reality. This story sprouted from another obsession over writing about families that were divorced—I think because, in a way, I wanted my own family to be divorced sometimes due to difficulties. But this time I wanted to take the root of the story further, and implant some of my life into it: the main character would have a sister and have a curse that was upon her since generations back in place of my illness in my life. Anyway, I decided to have the main character eventually have to go to a runaway camp for people like her, and then things would go downhill from there. Since then, I still have not finished writing this story (lol) but at the same time, my writing style has completely changed, which leads me to my next writing era.
Book #1: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series by Sarah J. Maas
First of all, this book is one of my all time favorites and one of the best books ever written. Second, Maas is one of the greatest writers of all time because she has a way with words by making her pieces come to life, resulting in a really relatable and moving story. Her recent book that I really love is A Court of Silver Flames, about how you can overcome great things if you only let yourself take that step to overcome and realize that darkness is a friend and not a foe. She also beautifully integrates Death and the power of hunger that could consume you if you let it. I am absolutely a fan of hers! This book series has really impacted my writing and my understanding of writing. She has helped me realize that I can take my ideas into reality and lace inspiring themes and messages, all the while making the story hit home. She has heightened my writing skills and senses, inspiring me to use my passion for astronomy and place it into my writing, as well as teaching me that imagery is what captures it all. Because of Maas, my writing has deeply accelerated and has really come to inspire others and form into a new style.
Piece #2: Gold Alights the Dark
January 11, 2021
She was crying. Her tears flooded down the sidewalk, hands covering her face, grasping the tears that were about to fall. Not looking where she stepped, she turned the corner and fell down, into the deep hole of nothingness.
☆☆☆☆☆
As she fell, her brain was blank except for these gold strips of confetti that flew around her thoughts. Words that she couldn’t catch, but she knew what it said. It said, “They forgot me,” “I am alone,” “No one is here,” “I tried my best,” “You weren’t there for me when you were supposed to be.” Words that made her heart dig deeper into the darkness she was now being whipped into. Nothing could really stop her from feeling this dark pain. She tried to find the light, the light that always let her out of these times—but there was nothing this time. And so, she felt abandoned.
Suddenly, there was this gold strip of light that was flung to her through the dark hole. Through her dark heart, for this hole was her heart and her heart was the dark passage, pit with no light.
She grabbed at the strip of light but no matter how many times she did, she couldn’t grasp it. She tried and tried but nothing changed. Nothing changed because she didn’t have the heart to change. Meaning, she didn’t have the heart to change herself, to stop trying to grab that light, to stop trying to want to be alone. That light was the light that was a fake. It looked like it was filled with warmth but inside, it was going to fill her with overflooding hatred, regretfulness, sadness, and madness that would change her forever. But not knowing that it was a fake, she kept grabbing. Kept trying to hold onto that light. And at last her heart found what she, herself was trying to look for, and grasped—which was the strip itself. And so, she grabbed it blindly and caught it. And she was enwrapped in this hatred. Her eyes turned from golden brown to such a dark brown that it looked black. Her hair turned from brown to black. Her fair skin turned into a crinkly, papery skin type. Her fingernails grew into claws. Her shirt formed ravenous wings in the back and her legs turned to black thing legs that were supported by sharp claws. Hatred and this darkness had taken everything away from her. For now, she was hatred itself.
☆☆☆☆☆
But what she didn’t know was that there was this small piece of light that was still intact in her heart. A little piece of life that was left with her.
☆☆☆☆☆
An image popped into her head. It was her, her mom by her side. They were laughing, ice cream in their hands and the chocolate frost smudged on her nose and cheeks. She looked so happy. But then she was pulled out of that image as the darkness once again took over. She was still asleep, enwrapped with a cloud of darkness. She was still the hatred, the raven. But then, another person popped into her head, another image. The image of her friends. The same friends that made her feel like nothing and made her cry. The images flashed, popping up one after another: they were go-karting, roller skating, baking, shopping, talking, laughing, hugging with happiness, doing homework together, and riding bikes—competing with each other. She realized that she missed that happiness—that life—badly. She was craving for it and so she brought her hand out. Her hands went through the images and she was bursting. Bursting with happiness and lights of gold and warmth. She realized that though she hated them, she had forgiven them because they were humans, after all.
Gold Alights the Dark — Feedback
This was the very first piece in my high school stage—I was fourteen—that started off my short story phase and sending writing to magazines and literary journals. This was also the first piece that was inspired and developed through listening to music, and was also partly inspired by a book called A Court of Mist and Fury. I was listening to the song called “Arcade” by Duncan Laurence when writing this piece and suddenly imagined a gold string kind of thing that would be flung out to the main character—this part was inspired by the book mentioned above—which she thought would “save” her from the pain she was enduring, but actually did not have that purpose. A series of sort of connected writing pieces came out of this first piece and I thought, what if I sectioned them off so that each represented an emotion? So I made “Gold Alights the Dark” to represent a sad sentiment and some following pieces to represent angry, jealous, and forgotten sentiments. This piece also helped me realize that I was really good at writing in third person and capturing my real-life emotions and happenings in the stories and imagery. And lastly, this piece was my epiphany that writing is my world and one of my means of catharsis. During this time when I wrote, “Gold Alights the Dark,” I was going through difficult times, especially with the pandemic in motion, so writing became my lifeline and a way to express myself.
Book #2: The Hill We Climb by Amanda Gorman
If I had to pick, this would be my second most inspiring book. Although it’s a short book, it’s truly compelling, filled with deep, important messages, and incredibly encouraging. I love this poem SO much and I love the poet as well. Gorman is one of my favorite poets of all time and one of my main inspirations when it comes to writing poetry. She has the same passions as mine: love for poetry and for wanting to help America through this tumultuous time, when America is divided in many ways. This poem taught me that writing can inspire and motivate others. Gorman has helped me realize that not only does writing have power but the way you speak, your hand motions—the way you deliver what you write—is truly significant: with zeal, with love. It has impacted my writing to include more deep important messages and to deliver them, which was actually my reason for participating at my school poetry slam. Gorman is not only a significant poet who understands what needs to be done, but the fact that she is young and yet has a way to move people is really awe-striking and influencing. Gorman has reminded me that writing has made a change in history and that many great writers arise to be the moving force of a new and better nation. Because of Gorman, I am motivated to once again use my writing to aid my beloved country, America.
Piece #3: To Be Alive
April 3, 2022
There’s something about the present that’s so special
i mean, life
is so special but in a deeper way—
the past, the present, the future,
a connection
to existence, to the people around us,
to nature and religion, itself,
this moment.
the present (if you call it),
is such a wonderful thing
for those who understand
that they’re living in a
one-in-a-moment life,
and know that this exact moment will never come again.
it's just so special.
i can feel the tingles of
whatever spiritual and intrinsic
and cosmic that connects us—
something beyond our reality,
what we can tangibly feel—
A deeper level of reality
(a mist, a protection that hangs around us),
and lets us live—
be in this moment
To be in it,
it's such an incredible and
just awestruck feeling
it's really a miracle,
a blessing that we’re alive.
Do you know how worth treasuring this is?
We live.
We breathe.
We experience.
We feel.
We become us.
//Watching the trees,
the world go by—//
what a wonderful world we live in
despite all the negatives.
we should be so thankful and
want to endorse it more.
But alas,
some of us,
live in ignorance
and all we can do
is just cherish the moments and things
that make today so
magical and significant.
Because,
remember,
not only do we live once,
but each moment—
no exact, same moment will
ever come again.
So live and never forget:
why you are here:
your vocation,
destiny,
and who you can become
if you let your dreams ignite.
These words and this time
and life you live and take for granted,
never, ever forget.
To Be Alive — Feedback
This current piece was created in my poetry and each-moment-will-never-come-again phase and presented at my first in-person school poetry slam. This piece was also produced from the many sensational times in life and nature, which has recently been one of my influences for writing. I was in the car heading to Connecticut, sunlight flickering in and out of the car, gospel music in the background, cars and trees rushing past, when my thoughts suddenly geared to one: this moment would not last forever. In a rush to capture the moment, quickly writing all that I felt and was happening evolved into “To Be Alive.” I picked this poem for the poetry slam to communicate to others that life is truly precious. I am sixteen and at this time, I had been exposed to and inspired by the variety of words in the English language and had included some of the descriptive yet profound vocabulary that I had come to integrate in myself. Now, I use poetry as one of my main methods to express myself and communicate important messages.