I’ve been having an affair with a lady

Most can’t understand

But nothing in this world

Makes me feel the way she can

Since the first time that I held her

I knew she was the one

Never questioning or judging

Despite the things I have done

In the weeks before I met her

I cried a million tears

She made life seem eurphoic

Sweet reprieve from my nightmares

She's been my dirty little secret

For about a year

But secrets lead to lies

Creating a love that's insincere

When she's left me lonely

I can't get out of bed

And the diabolical voices

Begin screaming madness in my head

I’ve kept our love a secret

As it is a mortal sin

Faith and hope escaped

Replaced by darkness deep within

Inflicting torture so obscene

Left on the brink of insanity

Filled with anger, rage, and hate

Am I headed for my death

Or some other deserving fate

I do love Tina....

Most days of the week

But with every flick of my Bic

A divorce is what I truly seek

Tina’s far from beautiful

Nothing but a dirty little whore

But the second she’s gone

I’d kill for just a tiny bit more

What I’ve learned about Tina

She comes with one guarantee

For her to leave someone must die

And that someone won’t be me

I refuse to let her kill me

Even though I’m not afraid of death

I always call her Tina

But her name is really Crystal...

Secrets, They’re hard to keep

as you sow, so shall you reap

don’t tell she said

this secret will hang over your head

You will take it to your grave

Do not miss behave

Or your be my slave

do not missinterpret

The big bad secret

She said she liked John

The bone is gone

She said don't tell

Then she fell

hopeing in hell

I wont Swell

the secret to him

Or else she will swim

She will be dead

My blood will be red

and gone shall be my head

Does this ring a bell

I shall not know

why I am in a detective portfolio

You’d be surprised how often people ask to submit random pieces that they wrote for a school assignment or a few years in the past. In fact they usually say something along the lines of, “Well, I haven’t written in years but there was this one poem I wrote when I was in middle school. A lot of people liked it. Is it okay if I submit it?”

And we always have one simple question to find out whether that piece has any value. Are you passionate about it?

Don’t just submit a piece that you have no emotion or passion for anymore. Because that piece could win awards like no other and it still wouldn’t amtter because you don’t have any feeling for it. Accomplishments won’t feel like accomplishments without your emotions.

And yes, maybe having a passion for your piece is why rejection hurts so badly because how dare the reviewer not see the effort, the sweat, the tears, or the burning pain you poured into your piece? But at the same time, any success that piece recieves will feel totally worth it. That beautiful bliss of achievement and being accomplised is within reach if you write with passion.

So don’t be afraid to pick up the pen after years of not writing. Trust us, if you aren’t enthusiastic about a piece or just writing for writing without any effort, that will translate to your reader.

So in all honesty, it doesn’t matter if you wrote a piece a year ago or within the last minute. All you need is your passion.

- Mudita Team

----

Submissions for our Summer 2019 issue are currently open. Visit our website muditamagazine.weebly.com for more details on how you can submit. We look forward to reading your submissions.

I feel it wrapping its arms around me.

My old friend.

The one who makes me pass the day.

In a world that lacks imagination.

Feel it making you stay in one place?

Wrapped in the warmth of a blanket.

Or in the arms of a partner?

Can you sense it as it creeps up on you?

Putting weight on your back and head.

Drooping, I wonder if others are guilty of my sin.

I wake to see I’ve passed the time in a stupor.

Can you see it?

I can’t. The world has grown dark.

my sin has robbed me.

Slithers through the heart strung veins,

Claiming every mortal fiber.

Alight in its wicked reins,

Its urge turning us to fire.

Fingers dance on naked flesh.

Bodies writhe, thrust, and plead.

Digging deep, its calls distressed.

Give in and fulfill its burning need.

Fall into the blissful state,

Desire brings it bound prey.

Grind, arch into your mate.

Find ecstacy in the risque.

Lust, I’m told, it is a sin,

And only the selfish win.

Me and a few friends have decided to make a group known as SUDSU. (It stands for speak up don't shut up). It's to raise awareness for sexual assault and rape. I hope you check out the website, speakupdontshutup.weebly.com, or even subscribe to the YouTube account. Let's make a difference. Together.

Hi, I am autistic. I don't want to tell you my name because I am exteremely paranoid. I am fully aware of how irrational it is. I always feel like people are talking about me but I know in my mind that it's absurd. I mean I know that people are not talking about me any more than they are talking about other people.

The biggest thing for me about being autistic is that my mind just works way too slow. I function at a pretty high level, I just do it slowly. It can be frustrating at times because there are times when I really want my brain to work faster and it just wont. If I am doing something for the first time, it might take me a few minutes to get my bearings and get clued in to what needs to be done and it does make me look stupid at times.

The second biggest thing for me about being autistic is that I don't get a lot of social cues and I have trouble relating to people. When I learned I was autistic it really was a relief because it put all of my frustrations into context. It seemed like everybody else knew something I didn't and nobody was telling me. I realize now that it wouldn't have mattered if somebody clued me in, there are things that my brain just isn't capable of processing. I can understand a lot of concepts but my brain just can't apply it or put it into practice. It seems strange but that's the way it is.

The third thing about being autistic is that my emotions are always evident on my face. I'm sure that with practice I could probably learn to hide them but for the most part it just shows. This puts me at a disadvantage when dealing with other people because they can read how I feel. Of all the things about beign autistic this is the one thing I don't like.

I don't really tell people that I am autistic and most people that meet me just think I'm a little odd. I don't have many friends but I do have a few. I am also capable of aquiring and holding down a job. I've never lived completely by myself but I've had roommates. I've learned to recognize the limitations of my brain and I've also learned how to keep myself in situations that my brain can manage which I think is really important.

http://freerice.com/#/english-vocabulary/1480

This is a website known as Free Rice, where they combat world hunger and promote education at the same time.

On Free Rice, every question you ask earns ten grains of rice. It doesn't sound like much, but it grows fast. It asks questions about any basic school subject. (The ones I've checked out are math and vocabulary) It starts out easy, and progressively gets harder. There are sixty levels (I'm not really sure how they break up the levels, I was on level 28 with 1,100 grains last I checked.) They have a system set up to make accounts, but it's not required to answer questions. Overall, I think it's a good website with a good cause, and I think you guys should check it out! You might learn something (I sure have)!

It first visited me when I was young and starry-eyed. I had gone to church with my mother in a different town when we were visiting relatives one summer. Same religion we practiced at home; just a different congregation. That should not have mattered; but I had recently discovered I was a color, and that it was different from my mother’s and that it wasn’t terribly pleasant to be a color surrounded by, well, no color. People looked at me with unfriendly looks in their eyes when I had done nothing to garner such looks. I was a quiet, obedient child. Yet, I had only to be, to exist in my skin, and for some reason I did not understand, I was despised, less than, odious. And in this church, where I had been told we were all children of God, love thy neighbor as thyself, didn’t mean everyone.

If I listened to the murmurings after church amongst those converging outside on the steps – any church I ever attended - it was rampant, vividly present. Clearly, all were without sin as they cast stones on neighbors I did not know and would never meet. It was worse, years later, when I was in an adult choir and had to quit because the virulent comments between pastor and choirmaster and other choir members was so at odds with the words we sang, the prayers read. Even though none of it was aimed at me, it made my heart ache.

When I had a child of my own, my son had his first experience with it when attending a religious school…when a child told him he had to go to the back of the line of children who wanted to see some new toy the child had brought to school…because my son had color in his skin while the others did not. Clearly, the religious teachings were not as strong as others being learned by that child. My son didn’t understand. I had no words to explain, only love and hugs. We are all children of God...

And then, a few years after that, the pillar of a church called him an unforgivable name - without knowing him, the good, kind, generous, thoughtful loving person that he was and is. He simply saw a tinge of color and without regard to the faith he professed, the God creator he worshiped, he called a child he did not know, an ugly, ugly word. And scarred that child who still did not understand why simply living in his skin should be cause for maltreatment. Thank God he was surrounded by good people and friends – and parents and relatives – who helped him to see his worth despite those who would allow their judgement and behavior to be skewed, rather than guided by the faith they professed.

My son is now agnostic, perhaps atheist. Yet, he is accepting of all faiths, all races – all people. In the face of behavior that scares or angers me, he is forgiving. Understanding. Loving. Indeed, his behavior more closely follows the teachings of various religions than any of the hypocrites that we have encountered over the years who do not live by the precepts they profess. I thank God for them, though, for even they helped him to become who he is: “We are the sum total of our experiences. Those experiences – be they positive or negative – make us the person we are, at any given point in our lives. And, like a flowing river, those same experiences, and those yet to come, continue to influence and reshape the person we are, and the person we become. None of us are the same as we were yesterday, nor will be tomorrow.”

Do you feel the same as I? When I’m near, does your heart thunder and mouth go dry? When I cross your mind, do you smile and heave a sigh? When asked by friends, do you have to lie? When I must distance myself, do you ask yourself why? Do you fight urges to stare at me, or steal glances on the sly?

Do you seek comfort in my presence, when it’s all been enough to make you cry? Do you make excuses to be near me, like a junkie chasing a high? Your an incredible friend so I don’t want to ask, don’t want to pry, if I drove you away I’d want to die.

What I really wanted to ask was, do you feel the same as I? And does the gain outweigh the risk enough to even try?