sk8ergirl4

United States

I write because words matter.
Welcome to my senior year.
Anything cow print>>>
xoxo- sk8ergirl4

Message from Writer

You don't know me and yet you do. Words are powerful to us. If they weren't would you be here? Despite the barriers which separate us on in the outside world, and despite the fact that we may not be able to speak the millions of words that fly through our heads when ignorance, kindness, beauty, or malice ensues, here we can connect and speak. Here I can say what I feel but can't say out loud, and I can say it beautifully and so can you. I can write of the seemingly ginormous drop I feel in my stomach when someone says "college", or of the lonely darkness which plagues me at 16, or of the calm I feel laying under the clouds.

Published Work

Why I Write

A Means to an End

Why do I write?

I write to explain away the pain of everyday life. 
To make sense of a wicked world -- which I call home.
To pierce the mortal heart by peaking into the immortal soul. 
To teach of historical tragedies and just victories. 
To see the world for what it truly is, and to blow away the smoke and mirrors. 
To feel something when numbness lies at my doorstep banging to get it. 
To invoke emotion into the apathetic and give hope to the marginalized. 
To make sense of what my mumbling lips failed to say when tears streamed down my face. 
To clarify what art depicts with just a few strokes.
To laugh away the inexplicable horror of betrayal and the blindness of the powerful. 
To grow wings to fly me far away from this place. 
To create an impenetrable world where the beauty of words impacts every action and every decision: changing each life in an...

Why I Write

A Means to an End

Why do I write?

I write to explain away the pain of everyday life. 
To make sense of a wicked world -- which I call home.
To pierce the mortal heart by peaking into the immortal soul. 
To teach of historical tragedies and just victories. 
To see the world for what it truly is, and to blow away the smoke and mirrors. 
To feel something when numbness lies at my doorstep banging to get it. 
To invoke emotion into the apathetic and give hope to the marginalized. 
To make sense of what my mumbling lips failed to say when tears streamed down my face. 
To clarify what art depicts with just a few strokes.
To laugh away the inexplicable horror of betrayal and the blindness of the powerful. 
To grow wings to fly me far away from this place. 
To create an impenetrable world where the beauty of words impacts every action and every decision: changing each life in an...

The Fight for Justice

When will I stop fighting?

Dear society -- that is you and me, 

George Floyd: May 25th 2020. Breonna Taylor: March 13th, 2020. Ahmaud Arbery: February 23rd, 2020.  
Salty tears are a familiar feeling to me now. Waking up to puffy eyes and heavy sighs. Lingering frustration. Leaving my home is like walking into war. It's truly the little things: the looks, the beauty standards, the lines which separate "us from them." The invisible signs that might as well still say "Whites Only". I was born free. I lived in bliss and believed that my potential was limitless. I was bold and blunt. But even then I knew. I knew I wanted to look like her. I wanted to have loose curls. I wanted to have light skin. I understood from a young age that my darkness was a barrier. I understood that brown means ugly. I understood that without straight hair I wouldn't be accepted by them. Them. The ones in power. You. The...

When?

Dear society-- that is you and me,

George Floyd: May 26th 2020. Breonna Taylor: March 13th, 2020. Ahmaud Arbery: February 23rd, 2020. 
Salty tears are a familiar feeling to me now. Waking up to puffy eyes and heavy sighs. Leaving my home is like walking into war. It's truly the little things: the looks, the beauty standards, the lines which separate "us from them." The invisible signs that might as well still say "Whites Only". I was born free. I lived in bliss and believed that my potential was limitless. I was bold and blunt. But even then I knew. I knew I wanted to look like her. I wanted to have loose curls. I wanted to have light skin. I understood from a young age that my darkness was a barrier. I understood that brown means ugly. I understood that without straight hair I wouldn't be accepted by them. Them. The ones in power. You. The self-hate permeated through...