BMH and Literature

An Ode to the Student Who's Trying Does it hurt?

Raya Japzon

Does it hurt when they tell you you're not good enough? Smart enough? Have the words they've been hurling at you
finally dropped like atomic bombs, leaving gaping holes in your self-esteem? Does it hurt when they thrive on your
weaknesses and make fun of them as if they don't realize that they're opening up the wounds that were slowly starting
to heal from all the other days they've decided to drop "good-natured" jokes about your grades? Does it hurt when they
disregard your efforts? When they belittle the countless hours you've spent on studying, eyes tinged red with sleepiness,
mind weary, chest heavy from the anxiety of trying to reach the expectations they've set on you. Does it make you feel
worthless when they compare you to others? When they tell you to 'be more like them" when all you can be more of is
yourself? Is it that hard to ask a little support? A little trust? A little faith in your capabilities that they oh so willingly
undervalue because they chose to focus on your flaws? Here's to the student who's trying…please know that your
efforts are appreciated. Don't listen to them. They are just white noise. Continue to persevere. Prove to them that
they're wrong. I believe in you.

Red String of Fate

i.) Little things that could draw you to him. The soft touch that still lingers on your skin
seconds and hours after. The whispers of his name that breeze through your ears. His
voice that could break the fetters of your heart. Everything about him that draws you to
him, especially the red string of fate.
ii.) Oceans away, and years striding by, you could hear her in your heart. A ghost of a
whisper, and a faint beating of her heart. And as you feel the touch of her hand from
miles away, know that it’s all because of the red string of fate.
iii.) Nails digging into your palm, skin sweating dewdrops, and lips curling as the clock
strikes the second. You stare at this person in front of you. Your companion. Your
friend. Your sibling. Your family. Your soulmate. You stare down at your hand. The
person follows. And all you can see is the red string of fate.
iv.) You see your soulmate. Right there with another soul. Choking on air, heart drumming,
and drowning in tears. You look down at yourself and feel it twirling around you tighter.
Glowing crimson red, your hands shake, and it lives a painful reminiscence—the red
string of fate.
v.) Silence is as deafening as it can be. Distance is as painful as one can bear. But the
moment your eyes meet again, a stranger is all you can see. Heart drumming, nails
digging into your palm, and lips in place, as you look down to see the red string of fate.