We say,

"Why do I have to close my legs?"

when we're eight, or nine

sitting at the picnic bench

in a pair of Bermuda shorts

You say,

"It's unladylike to keep them open,"

and we don't know

what that means

but we do it, because being unladylike

doesn't attract boys.

We say,

"Why can't I wear a skirt?"

when we're ten, or twelve

sitting in the classroom

in ninety-five degree weather

You say,

"It's distracting to the boys in the room,"

and we know

that boys aren't animals

we're just being sexualized

but we do it, because being distracting

doesn't get us educated.

We say,

"Why are girls raped?"

when we're thirteen, or fourteen

sitting on our phones

scrolling through Teen Vogue

You say,

"They dress like sluts,"

and we don't know

why the victim is blamed

but we accept it, because not accepting it

doesn't change rape culture.

We say,

"Why do boys stare at my chest?"

when we're sixteen, or seventeen

sitting on the bleachers

wearing that cute dress

You say,

"Because your body is mature,"

and we know

you really mean my body is an object

but we ignore the stares, because covering up

doesn't get us compliments.

We say,

"Why do I get shamed when I comply?"

when we're any age, any grade

sitting anywhere

doing anything

You say,

"Because that's just how it is,"

and we know

you just mean it's because we are girls

but we just sit, because fighting back

doesn't make us attractive.

You sweared you'll change, but what did you mean?

Promise, you said, but did you mean it?

Nothing has happened, nothing has changed.

Did you mean it, or was it another lie?

It’s been 2 weeks and you still don’t talk to us.

You still don’t acknowledge us.

You still haven't even apologise in person.

Is this what you think a promise is?

It’s been 2 weeks and you still haven't said a word to me.

You haven't smiled or waved to me.

You haven't even looked me in the eyes.

When will you change like you said you would?

When will you make an effort like you said you would.

You lied, again.

Maybe a promise doesn’t mean much to you but it does to me.

You gave me hope.

Hope that things could go back to normal.

Hope that we could be friends again.

Then you took it away just like you did every other time.

Maybe you didn't mean your promise, but I mean this,

I promise you,

I’m done.

You hurt my friends and destroyed friendships.

You hurt us, then said sorry,

But sorry doesn't always cut it.

You ignored us and said mean things to us.

You hurt us, then said sorry,

But sorry doesn't always cut it.

You lied to us and were rude to us.

You hurt us, then said sorry,

But sorry doesn't always cut it.

You said mean things about us behind our backs and told people not to talk to us.

You hurt us, then said sorry,

But sorry doesn't always cut it.

Sorry won't cut it this time. I've spent to much time with people who I thought were my friends then turned around and stabbed me in the back so im sorry,

But sorry won't cut it. Not this time.

Cutting through your smile.

A knife slicing through the light.

Creeping into your senses.

Crawling up through your eyes.

Drowning you in pools

of darker blood and tears

than you've ever cried before.

Drenching you in fear

that you cannot shake away;

like you've never been so unsure.

It makes you want to cry,

like the pain that you feel

when you're too numb to feel at all.

It makes you feel so low,

then with each low comes a shove

that makes you crash and fall.

It's too hard to explain,

when panick brushes over you.

Taking over your brain.

It's a curse that never lets go of you.

Cut me with your knives,

drench me in your blood,

I don't really care.

Creep over me and cry,

because I've suffered so much

that it isn't really there.

It makes you want to cry,

like the pain that you feel

when you're too numb to feel at all.

It makes you want to sigh,

and cover up your ears

just so you can finally crawl

away.

As a woman, I am ever so grateful

Feminists before me, their hearts so full

Perplexed as to why women weren't treated as humans

Fought for us, to stand beside the man

I fight for and with feminists and approve of their message

Because I simply depend on it

And if I ever have a daughter, I'd want her to grow up being a feminist too.

A boy strumming a guitar and singing to someone he loves.

A woman laughing with her husband over video call.

A girl and her best friend getting coffee and chatting.

A little boy learning to ride a bike for the first time.

A group of girls having a heated pillow fight.

A mother singing happily to her little baby in her arms.

A sister smiling into her phone calling her college-aged brother.

A father going on a walk with his daughter in the autumn and collecting leaves.

A brother standing up for his sister on the playground.

A teacher helping a student find their confidence.

A teen texting a friend and laughing so loud the people in the coffee shop stare.

A student taking a test and feeling confident afterward that they aced it.

A person hugging a stranger when they see them crying.

A toddler holding out their hand to a stranger when they see they've fallen.

A baby getting kisses from someone's dog who happens to be very friendly.

A person dancing in public with headphones on and not giving a damn.

A lover writing a letter to their partner whose long-distance relationship is going strong.

A gay person feeling welcomed into their church after they've come out.

A mean girl realizing she should have been nicer to the other girls.

A girl loving other girls and boys.

A boy loving other boys and girls.

A person loving other people.

Everyone loving each other.

Because happiness comes from out hearts.

And without love, we are not happy.

So love with everything you have.

Especially now that the world is so full of hatred.

And we will be happy enough to smile.

This year April Fools Day is on Easter Sunday. I am an atheist, so that makes me laugh. But the thing about it is that my dad's parents are extremely religious.

I walk into the kitchen, and my dad is taking a ham from the oven.

"Are we taking that to Sittoo and Gidoo's?" I ask him as I sat down at the table. He looks at me, confused.

"Who are they?"

"Our grandparents."

"I never had parents," he says gruffly. The blood in my veins stops running. I look him in the eyes and try to figure out what's going on. My sister comes downstairs and joins the conversation.

"I knew they were robots!" My head is whirling with confusion. They are real!

Then I remembered and rolled my eyes.

"Haha," my sister said. "April fools."

"What's April fools?" my dad asked, and started to stir some pancake batter.

Long hair, glittering eyes, full lips. Her laugh like a ray of sunshine.

That was Punzelina, the princess locked up high in a tower for her mother's exploitation. A girl so beautiful and so unimaginably intelligent that she could only be coerced into going outside if a devilishly charming royal were to come to rescue her. She dreamed of it day and night. Someone would come at some time.

Her mother left. It was Saturday morning, when the birds were chirping brightly and the moon was still in sight, even though the sun was fully visible. How wonderful a day it was.

And, oh! Would today be the day? When she might get out? She might be free in the world and live a normal life? Could be. But this feeling was not uncommon to her; she felt it nearly every day.

But a surprise came when she heard foot steps in the grass a few minutes after her mother's departure. Could it be? Someone to come and save her? She brushed back her long, long blonde hair behind her ear. It might disturb someone coming to rescue her.

"Yoo-hoo!" She heard a voice call.

A male voice.

"Anyone up there?" Silence. She stood absolutely still. "Alright, I'm coming up. If you're there, speak now or forever hold your peace. I need a place to stay the night." Punzelina rolled her eyes. She knew this. She had read it in storybook after storybook. A man comes to rescue a girl because he has heard the legends, only to then marry her. He was only looking for a partner and Punzelina was only looking to get out of the tower.

She shuttered the windows and stood against them, if he were to punch them open to come in. And he did just that.

A hit came to her back and the shutters immediately opened, sending Punzelina flying onto the floor, tangling her hair into a mess of knots. Not very happy was she.

Then the man climbed through the window, brushing himself off as she hid behind her pool of hair, wishing him away. He ran his fingers through his hair one more time as he noticed Punzelina on the floor.

"Okay..." he started. "Well this is, um...awkward." He stared her up and down and suddenly extended his hand out to her. "Prince Kennedy." Punzelina eyed him up and down. He didn't look like a prince. He had stubble around his whole chin and his clothes were battered and sweat-stained. How could he be a prince?

"You don't look like a prince to me," Punzelina replied, annoyed. "Who are you really? And what was your purpose? I'm sure it wasn't to get a night's sleep here. It is the morning." He chuckled and his cheeks turned red.

"If you're trying to get me to stay and, well, be a prince to a lock-up like you, you're out of luck." His bluntness shocked Punzelina as she stood up. To her surprise she towered over him like a giant seeking its prey. "I don't do the whole kissing thing. Also, why are you coming closer to me..." His voice trailed off as Punzelina approached him. He leaned back as far as possible and she came closer still with no regard for his body language.

"Thank you!" she suddenly screamed, throwing her arms around him and squeezing him until he would perpetually pop. "I knew this day would come! And by the way, this would have been super weird to lead with, but I don't want to kiss you, either." His face fell when he heard those words, as if he might be offended, but Punzelina had a response.

"Don't be offended, Kennedy," she said. "I like kissing girls better." With that, she took his hand and threw open the shutters.

She looked around the room for some blade of some sort and caught a glimpse of Kennedy's pocket - a gleaming something sticking out. She reached for it without him noticing and she was suddenly wielding a small blade. Just the right size for the job.

She held it up, waiting for the right moment to strike. The terror in Kennedy's eyes grew by the millisecond and then SLICE.

Punzelina's hair was shorter than ever.

She fed the remains through the shutter as Kennedy stood, amazed he wasn't killed. She tied one end to the windowsill and motioned for Kennedy to go first.

"Straight men first," she gestured, and he shrugged. "Use the hair as a rope." He looked at the hair, looking a little disgusted, but then grabbed onto it and slid all the way down. Then it was Punzelina's turn.

"And by the way," Kennedy added as they both fell to the ground, "I know a great girl that I seriously do not want to marry back home."

"Is that why you ran away?" Punzelina asked. He laughed and nodded as they started to walk through the thicket. "Then I wouldn't like her either!"

That was the moment Punzelina realized that life was going to be better with a best friend. It wouldn't be lonely anymore up in that tower will an impending death forever closing in on her.

She also realized that she could have easily gotten out of the tower herself that day.

I’m not afraid of the dark

But of the night

I have a different mindset

Sometimes I say my greatest fear is darkness

It isn’t quite true

I am afraid of the time that is naturally dark

Not the dark itself

I am fine in movie theatres

Rooms with no windows

As long as it’s daytime

At night, I get this sinking feeling in my stomach

It just won’t go away

My bad thoughts won’t go away

Death

Deadlines

Hatred

This is why I roll around a lot when I’m falling asleep

I’m trying to find a position

That offers release

I have trouble falling asleep

This is why

This is why I go to school every day exhausted

This is why I like to talk to people at night

It only happens when I’m alone

I can’t think happy thoughts

I’m drowning

Please, just let me sleep

Let me forget

I just need to make it until morning

It will all go away in the morning

Golden sand slipping between my toes, a single, buttery cloud wafting through the periwinkle sky. An absolutely perfect scene.

My father and mother and little brother. How strange one's youngest sibling would appear, but not the others.

My father has a look of concern on his face. I look to him with disdain. The cloud continues on in its direction, calmly drifting out of sight. The trees are high on the island. In the distance, the very long distance, there is another island; prehaps a city.

A man. A skinny, frail man walks up through the shallows of the clear blue water. Where did he come from?

"There is a tornado coming, sir," he says simply to my father. He looks around. The sky is still a brilliant shade of periwinkle and the sun is a bowl of lemonade reflecting onto Earth. He nods silently, and the man walks away somewhere, disappearing into the water again. Where could he have come from?

At first I am suspicious. My little brother wades out into the water, trying to find a tornado, or any sign. He wants to be a meteorologist someday.

There is a sudden gust of chilling wind that breaks out, and he is too far in the water to wade back. My heart stats to thud in my chest as I scream for him. I scream inaudible words. Inaudible everything. And he is gone. Gone literally with the wind.

I wade out, but not so far when my father catches up and pulls me back. The man appears again. "You might want to get down, young lady." I don't listen. He is someone I do not trust. Someone who disappears into water without drowning. Or maybe he is a figment of my imagination.

My father has other plans. He grabs my hand and my mother's hand, who is weeping and mourning my little brother. My emotion is still mixed up, swirled together like chocolate and vanilla. Is he dead? What are we doing?

Then I see it. A huge tube of air, forming in the distance. A fatal swirl of tornadoes. My father pulls me down and we plummet into the water, everything but our noses submerged. I hold my breath nevertheless.

Death is waiting for us. Death will come soon. Am I happy about it? Am I sad? What will happen when I am dead?

I feel my parents' grips tighten and I reciprocate. I can't feel my heart beating anymore. I feel a heavy gust of wind and shiver underneath the water.

And suddenly I am pulled down.

I am drowning a slow, painful drown. I can feel the water entering my lungs, filling them like a bottle would be filled with soda. My eyes open and sting from the saltiness. My arms fling as I breathe in my last bit of water and I can see the surface. I can still see it and my heart is beating hard and my arms are reaching up and I am feeling dizzy and my eyes start to cross as I fall deeper and deeper into the darkness of the water and my arms don't have any more energy to flap so I just stop --

I stop. I decide it is time to leave. I need to. At least they will survive.

Then I awaken.