tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-73937752509700947902024-03-13T10:44:49.816-04:00You Make Me Feel Less AloneYour words are powerful. Your words can help people. Share them.Samantha Schutzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10479328655854417840noreply@blogger.comBlogger76125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7393775250970094790.post-78629643380200068972011-10-02T14:40:00.004-04:002011-10-02T15:02:41.895-04:00"They dont see how much I’m pretending."<span style="color:#000000;"><strong>Alone in a Crowd of People<br /></strong>Jessica D. Vega, age 22.<br />Jersey City, NJ.<br /><br />Alone in a crowd of people<br />They see me<br />but they don't see the real me<br />They see my smile<br />but they don't see how fake it is<br />They dont see how much I’m pretending<br />pretending to be happy<br /><br />Alone in a crowd of people<br />Knowing I’ll never belong<br />never fit in to any group<br />always alone<br />always forgotten<br />always invisible<br /><br />Alone in a crowd of people<br />Wearing this mask so well<br />hiding all my emotions<br />hiding all my doubts<br />hiding all my fears<br />hiding all my scars<br /><br />Alone in a crowd of people<br />no on really knows<br />no one really cares<br />no one really understands<br />how I feel<br />how I really feel<br />and the way I feel<br />is alone in a crowd of people<br /><br /><br /><strong>I feel like I've been wasting time.</strong><br />Jessica D. Vega, age 22.<br />Jersey City, NJ.<br /><br />I never got to do the things<br />that I really wanted to do.<br />I wonder if it’s to late to start now.<br />Even if I did start now,<br />I wouldn’t know how or where to start.<br /><br />I feel like I’m trapped in a box<br />that’s sealed tight.<br />I can’t get out.<br />I can’t move.<br />I can’t breathe.<br />I’m suffocating.<br /><br />I scream,<br />but nobody hears.<br />I cry,<br />but nobody sees.<br />Because I’m trapped in this box.<br />And they can’t really tell what’s wrong with me,<br />because all they hear from me is silence.<br /><br />So, how can I do the things I really want do,<br />when I can’t even get out of this box that<br />I’ve been trapped in for years.<br /><br /></span>Samantha Schutzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10479328655854417840noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7393775250970094790.post-68570283529753695272011-10-01T14:46:00.001-04:002011-10-02T14:49:11.300-04:00"Flawless. It means everything to me."<span style="color:#000000;"><strong>Flawless</strong><br />Anonymous, age 15<br />Brooklyn, NY<br /><br />Perfect<br />That's all I want to be<br />Flawless<br />It means everything to me<br /><br />Not many understand<br />The need<br />The want<br />The strive<br />To be better<br />Perfect<br />Flawless<br /><br />Need to not be me<br />Need to be you<br />Need to be different<br />Not myself<br />When I am<br />Oh so broken<br />Oh so flawed<br /><br />Not perfect<br />Not how I want to be<br />Not flawless </span>Samantha Schutzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10479328655854417840noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7393775250970094790.post-27935925708854612872011-09-30T14:50:00.000-04:002011-10-02T14:53:00.387-04:00"I don’t need to be the hero."<strong>Spoiler</strong><br />Carolyn Ursabia, age 28<br />Toronto<br /><br />Tell me how the story ends<br />I just want to know.<br />It’s hard to see beyond the moment<br />when you’re dealt another blow.<br /><br />Tell me I’m the distressed damsel –<br />a knight in armour on his way;<br />The Deus Ex Machina ’round the corner<br />to materialize and save the day.<br /><br />I don’t need to be the hero,<br />or the star that steals the show.<br />I’m not desperate for attention<br />when I’m feeling really low.<br /><br />I need help because I’m cracking<br />under the pressure of the weight<br />of every little tiny thing<br />with which I’ve struggled as of late.<br /><br />So don’t tell me I can do it.<br />When what I need’s a helpful hand.<br />Not just empty, pleasant words<br />that suggest but don’t mean you understand.<br /><br />Oh but in the end, I know who’s the hero<br />The rising star that saves the show.<br />I asked you how the story ends,<br />but I guess I damned well know:<br /><br />I’ll suck it up, and take the hits.<br />Maybe a couple times I’ll fall.<br />And when they ask me “How much credit…”<br />I will say, “I take it all.”Samantha Schutzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10479328655854417840noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7393775250970094790.post-42419505961492072102011-09-29T14:53:00.001-04:002011-10-02T14:55:37.452-04:00"I have this power to overcome."<strong>Confidence </strong><br />A.M. Young, age 22<br />Jenkintown, PA <br /><br />Lonely and abrupt <br />I sit waiting for the corrupt <br />The one to take me away <br />From the simplicities of my day <br />To complicate things <br /><br />To manipulate my mind <br />I climb and I climb. <br />Out of this depression <br />I have this lingering confession <br />That this will be different <br /><br />I will be no more <br />From what I was before <br />Like a flower <br />I will conquer with a shower <br />To cleanse my soul <br /><br />That clean embrace <br />From my mother’s face <br />I have this power to overcome <br />All these things that I have committed and done <br />That will haunt my thoughts <br /><br />But won’t bring me down <br />I no longer hide like a clown <br />I am a bird, free <br />I am myself; I am here and I am me <br /><br />Funny little thing confidenceSamantha Schutzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10479328655854417840noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7393775250970094790.post-3328814030314479922011-09-28T14:56:00.000-04:002011-10-02T15:02:11.764-04:00"He has made me promise to not burn myself."<div><font color="#000000">Nicole Easterwood, age 20<br />Jacksonville, AL<br /><br /><strong>His hands are smooth,</strong><br />uncalloused,<br />as they touch my skin.<br />At the beginning of each<br />of my phalanges<br />lay thick calluses.<br />My thumbs,<br />and sometimes index fingers,<br />are torn up<br />and bleed from picking.<br />I can’t stop.<br />I’ve tried so many times.<br />I’ve thought of him<br />and pleaded with my mind<br />to stop.<br />I’ve tried.<br /><br />His arms are free of scars,<br />so strong.<br />I look at mine and am ashamed.<br />Reminders of cold bathroom floor,<br />mixing with the flame of a lighter.<br />So many sleepless nights.<br />So many days of curtains drawn.<br />So many panic attacks taking over me.<br />I’ve tried to be calm.<br />I’ve tried.<br />I’ve tried.<br /><br />No one seems to understand<br />how it feels to think<br />that you are alone.<br />But when his hand brushes mine,<br />breathing ceases<br />and I am not thinking<br />of how I can make it stop.<br />It culminates and I am fine.<br />Nothing matters<br />except simply being.<br /><br />He has made me promise<br />to not burn myself.<br />To stop<br />inflicting pain.<br />I promised.<br />And I will<br />keep my promise.<br />Because he’s worth it.<br />Because I’m scared<br />to say I love him.<br />To tell him<br />he deserves someone<br />who is well.<br />To tell him,<br />“You make me<br />feel less alone.” </font></div>Samantha Schutzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10479328655854417840noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7393775250970094790.post-55739881350916220612011-05-06T16:38:00.001-04:002011-05-06T16:40:39.133-04:00Winners: National Poetry Month Contest<p>I am thrilled to announce the three winners of my National Poetry Month Contest. I got loads of submissions on all sorts of topics: relationships, self-injury, depression, anxiety, medication, self image, violence, racism, and more. But the common theme was hope...and that things get better.</p><p>Check out all the submissions here on my blog. And, of course, take a moment to read the three winning poems below. </p><p><span mce_style="color: #000000;" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"><b><span mce_style="color: #993366;" style="color: rgb(153, 51, 102);"><span mce_style="color: #993366;" style="color: rgb(153, 51, 102);"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">The grand-prize winner is</span> </span></span></b></span><span mce_style="color: #993366;" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"><b>Anonymous, age 22</b></span><span mce_style="color: #000000;" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"><b style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"><span mce_style="color: #993366;" style="color: rgb(153, 51, 102);"><span mce_style="color: #993366;" style="color: rgb(153, 51, 102);"> <span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">with "Fall."</span></span><br /><br /><span mce_style="color: #993366;" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">She'll be getting a great prize pack of books</span></span></b><span mce_style="color: #800080;" style="color: rgb(128, 0, 128);"> </span>including: <a onclick="javascript:_gaq.push(['_trackEvent','outbound-article','www.amazon.com']);" href="http://www.amazon.com/Gets-Better-Overcoming-Bullying-Creating/dp/0525952330/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1301772973&sr=1-1" mce_href="http://www.amazon.com/Gets-Better-Overcoming-Bullying-Creating/dp/0525952330/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1301772973&sr=1-1" target="_blank"><b>It Gets Better</b></a> by Dan Savage, <a onclick="javascript:_gaq.push(['_trackEvent','outbound-article','www.amazon.com']);" href="http://www.amazon.com/I-Dont-Want-Be-Crazy/dp/0439805198/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1301773001&sr=1-1" mce_href="http://www.amazon.com/I-Dont-Want-Be-Crazy/dp/0439805198/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1301773001&sr=1-1" target="_blank"><b>I Don’t Want to Be Crazy</b></a><b> <b>and</b> </b><a href="http://samanthaschutz.net/site/Check%20out%20the%20Nat%27l%20Poetry%20Month%20contest%20inspired%20by%20#itgetsbetter%20http://samanthaschutz.net/site/?cat=7%20Dealing%20with%20mental%20illness,%20addiction,%20and%20family/relationships%20gets%20better,%20too%21%20Win%20free%20books%21" mce_href="../Check%20out%20the%20Nat%27l%20Poetry%20Month%20contest%20inspired%20by%20#itgetsbetter%20http://samanthaschutz.net/site/?cat=7%20Dealing%20with%20mental%20illness,%20addiction,%20and%20family/relationships%20gets%20better,%20too%21%20Win%20free%20books%21" target="_blank"><b>You Are Not Here</b></a> by Samantha Schutz (signed by me!), <a onclick="javascript:_gaq.push(['_trackEvent','outbound-article','www.amazon.com']);" href="http://www.amazon.com/Kind-Funny-Story-Movie-Tie-/dp/1423141911/ref=sr_1_1_title_0_main?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1301771927&sr=1-1" mce_href="http://www.amazon.com/Kind-Funny-Story-Movie-Tie-/dp/1423141911/ref=sr_1_1_title_0_main?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1301771927&sr=1-1" target="_blank"><b>It’s Kind of a Funny Story</b> </a>by Ned Vizzini, <a onclick="javascript:_gaq.push(['_trackEvent','outbound-article','www.amazon.com']);" href="http://www.amazon.com/Cut-Patricia-McCormick/dp/0439324599/ref=sr_1_1_title_0_main?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1301772004&sr=1-1" mce_href="http://www.amazon.com/Cut-Patricia-McCormick/dp/0439324599/ref=sr_1_1_title_0_main?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1301772004&sr=1-1" target="_blank"><b>Cut </b></a>by Patricia McCormick, and <a onclick="javascript:_gaq.push(['_trackEvent','outbound-article','www.amazon.com']);" href="http://www.amazon.com/Talking-Dark-Poetry-Billy-Merrell/dp/0439490367/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1301772041&sr=1-1" mce_href="http://www.amazon.com/Talking-Dark-Poetry-Billy-Merrell/dp/0439490367/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1301772041&sr=1-1" target="_blank"><b>Talking in the Dark</b></a> by Billy Merrell.</span></p><p><span mce_style="color: #993366;" style="color: rgb(153, 51, 102);"><b><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">Anonymous, age 22</span></b><b style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"><br /><b>Fall</b></b></span></p> <p>I try to suppress the grin on my face<br />As I rush, alone, to my next class.<br />The campus is graceful in its nature<br />and colors and I’m alone, not<br />lonely, thanking the empty sky for<br />getting me to this place.<br />I’m in awe of the bag on my<br />shoulder, heavy with overpriced<br />books. Proud that my four successive<br />classes give me some place<br />acceptable to be.<br />I take notes and study and wear a genuinely<br />rehearsed contemplative look. I can’t understand<br />the groans around me at another assigned chapter<br />or announcement of an upcoming test.<br />This is it.<br />What I’ve been struggling to attain for four<br />excruciatingly long years.<br />To sit in a class and learn, to abandon my corner<br />of safety and pain and thoughts designed to<br />derail me at every haphazard venturing out.<br />I spent the better part of my first two adult<br />years screaming on a locked ward,<br />but the piercing shrieks have faded,<br />and I don’t think I have to be so afraid<br />anymore.</p><p> I don’t think they can control me anymore.</p><p style="text-align: center;"><span mce_style="color: #000000;" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"><b>* * *</b></span></p><p><span mce_style="color: #993366;" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"><b>The two runners up are </b><b>Anu B., age 18 </b><b><b>and </b></b></span><b><b><span mce_style="color: #993366;" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">Stephanie Faith Sizeland, age 19.</span><br /></b><br /></b>They'll both get signed copies of <a onclick="javascript:_gaq.push(['_trackEvent','outbound-article','www.amazon.com']);" href="http://www.amazon.com/I-Dont-Want-Be-Crazy/dp/0439805198/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1301773001&sr=1-1" mce_href="http://www.amazon.com/I-Dont-Want-Be-Crazy/dp/0439805198/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1301773001&sr=1-1" target="_blank"><b>I Don’t Want to Be Crazy</b></a><b> </b>and<b> </b><a href="http://samanthaschutz.net/site/Check%20out%20the%20Nat%27l%20Poetry%20Month%20contest%20inspired%20by%20#itgetsbetter%20http://samanthaschutz.net/site/?cat=7%20Dealing%20with%20mental%20illness,%20addiction,%20and%20family/relationships%20gets%20better,%20too%21%20Win%20free%20books%21" mce_href="../Check%20out%20the%20Nat%27l%20Poetry%20Month%20contest%20inspired%20by%20#itgetsbetter%20http://samanthaschutz.net/site/?cat=7%20Dealing%20with%20mental%20illness,%20addiction,%20and%20family/relationships%20gets%20better,%20too%21%20Win%20free%20books%21" target="_blank"><b>You Are Not Here</b></a> by Samantha Schutz (me!).</p><p><span mce_style="color: #993366;" style="color: rgb(153, 51, 102);"><b style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">Anu B., age 18</b><b><b style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"><br />Maybe</b><br /></b></span><br />Maybe I’m not who you want me to be,<br />But I’m me. Incorrigibly, irredeemably, painfully<br />Me.<br />Maybe I’m not where you want me to be.<br />Maybe my hair is too long for your liking,<br />Or too short for your delicate sensibilities.<br />Maybe my pants hang a little too low,<br />Or I hold my books a little too close.<br />Maybe my eyes are too sad for you,<br />Or my hips too wide,<br />My arms too long, my smile<br />Too blithe.<br />Maybe it’s just that I’m too tall, too short,<br />Too skinny, too fat, too strong, too smart,<br />Too loud, too quiet, too immersed in my thoughts.<br />Maybe.<br />Maybe I’m not everything you want me to be,<br />But I’m me. Incorrigibly, irredeemably, painfully<br />Me.<br />But, maybe it’s not me.<br />Maybe you’re too…too.<br />Maybe you’re heart isn’t big enough,<br />Maybe your heart only feels its own pain.<br />My heart will have to be big enough,<br />I will survive your incorrigible, irredeemable,<br />Painful Disdain.<br /><br /></p> <p style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"><span mce_style="color: #993366;" style="color: rgb(153, 51, 102);"><b style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">Stephanie Faith Sizeland, age 19</b><b><br /><b style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">Stop the bleeding</b></b></span></p> <p>As she heads for the book shelf<br />She apologizes to herself once more<br />“I’m sorry, I can’t take it anymore.”<br />She lifts up her book titled “Glass”<br />“Story of my life” she whispers…<br />Underneath hides a secret kept from the world<br />The story of a broken girl.<br />She picks up the translucent piece<br />Sharpened edge<br />Sharper than the rest<br />In need of one more release.<br />Glass to skin, she carves<br />Another scar<br />One more line to match the rest<br />Closes her eyes and lets it slide<br />“This is the last time.” She lies.<br />As the blood runs, she weeps<br />Always abides by her one rule<br />“Never too deep”.<br />The lines are straight<br />She holds her arm to the light<br />Studying the horizontal cuts<br />Always left to right.<br />Never does it for attention<br />Or sympathy from anyone<br />Does it for herself<br />Because she feels she has no choice<br />Not tonight, not ever.</p> <p><b>It’s about stopping</b>.<br /><b>It’s about having the courage to stop.</b><b><br /><b>Having the strength.</b><br /><b>Relief is possible without the knife.</b><br /><b>Don’t cut your life short.</b><br /><b>Make an effort to stop.</b><br /><b>Make an effort to get better.</b><br /><b>Tell someone you love.</b><br /><b>Help someone you know.</b><br /><b>Stop the scars.</b><br /><b>Stop the bleeding.</b></b></p> <p><br /></p>Samantha Schutzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10479328655854417840noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7393775250970094790.post-26544843925071689532011-05-01T23:15:00.000-04:002011-05-01T12:11:40.486-04:00Nat’l Poetry Month contest submissions<span style="color:#000000;">All of the entries for the poetry contest are up! Check them out! Winners will be announced this Friday. Who do you think should win?</span><br /><span style="color:#000000;"><a href="http://samanthaschutz.net/site/?p=612">http://samanthaschutz.net/site/?p=612</a></span>Samantha Schutzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10479328655854417840noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7393775250970094790.post-50924704691338772362011-04-02T14:36:00.009-04:002011-04-02T16:43:14.488-04:002011 Nat'l Poetry Month Contest & It Gets Better projectHey friends. I wanted to let you know about the It Gets Better project. It falls right in line with the goal of YouMakeMeFeelLessAlone. Sparked by incidents of LGTB kids being bullied and committing suicide, Dan Savage (the well known sex columnist) created the It Gets Better campaign of video diaries from LGTB people who are speaking about how life gets better after those wretched teenage years. I am honored to know several people that have contributed videos. There is also an It Gets Better book available now! Check out the videos, the book, and the site. Maybe you'd even like to contribute a video. <a href="http://www.itgetsbetter.org/">http://www.itgetsbetter.org/</a> <br /><p>The sentiment of It Get Better doesn't have to be limited to LGTB issues. <strong>To celebrate National Poetry Month and get the word out about It Gets Better and YouMakeMeFeelLessAlone, I am holding a POETRY CONTEST.</strong> Contribute your writing to YMMFLA and give others hope that dealing with issues like mental illness, addiction, sexuality, and relationships GETS BETTER! </p>Click <a href="http://samanthaschutz.net/site/?p=597">here </a>for info about PRIZES and GUIDELINES.Samantha Schutzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10479328655854417840noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7393775250970094790.post-37098200868903340952011-03-08T10:09:00.004-05:002011-03-08T11:37:50.007-05:00100th post to You Make Me Feel Less Alone!<span style="color:#993399;"><strong><u>This is the 100th post to You Make Me Feel Less Alone! Thanks to everyone who has submitted, read entries, and commented. Keep the submissions coming!</u></strong></span><br /><br />Karissa Doll, age 18. California.<br /><br />Just Another Drink<br /><br />Just one more sip<br />But somehow the bottle's already gone<br />It never stays full for long<br />She lays in her room<br />She knows nothing's okay<br />She knows she's right<br />But it's all wrong<br /><br />Through a nights sleep<br />The day disappears<br />It just disappears<br />It's already gone<br /><br />Just another drink<br />And another bottle<br />Things fall apart<br />The roots so deep<br />What you've come to be<br />Just another drink<br /><br />So unforgiving<br />It won't leave her glass<br />This isn't her<br />It's all just a blur<br />But I see so clear<br />The ending so near<br />Of my loss of faith<br /><br />Another drop<br />And my heart stops<br />It can no longer feel<br /><br />I've become so numb<br />I'm just too young<br />To know who you've become<br />Would you want that for me<br />To do as I see<br />To give up everything<br />For just another drinkSamantha Schutzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10479328655854417840noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7393775250970094790.post-8104594608624038862011-03-08T10:04:00.002-05:002011-03-08T10:08:37.211-05:00"I'd just stick with you If it were up to me."<span style="color:#000000;">Colleen, age 15. Kentucky.<br /><br /><strong>Poem: Too Many People</strong><br /><br />Their is too many people<br />in this world I see<br />I'd just stick with you<br />If it were up to me<br /><br />Exposure Therapy I might need<br />but, even after sessions<br />I still believe<br />that their's<br /><br />Too many people<br />& I feel like I have<br />no room to breathe<br /><br />So many people<br />that I block out<br />So I can't see<br />because it causes so much anxiety<br /><br />If it were up to me<br />I'd just stick with you<br />I don't like being alone<br />but, I would be okay with finding alone with you.<br /><br /><br /><strong>Poem: His Kind of Red Sky</strong><br /><br />Lying in the grass<br />Staring up at the sky<br />I got a glance<br />Of his kind of red sky<br /><br /><br /><strong>Poem: He Comes Close</strong><br /><br />You're a fighter<br />& you've come so far<br />Holding on<br />So don't let go now<br />No one will ever understand completely<br />But, he comes close<br />With your thoughts & your feelings<br />You may be alone<br />& in severe pain<br />But, tomorrow's a new day<br />& it's never too late<br />To begin again.<br /><br /><br /><strong>Poem: Though You Hurt</strong><br /><br />Though you hurt<br />Though you suffer<br />Though you may never be the same<br />You are constantly picking yourself back up<br />& trying again<br />'Cause all you really want<br />All you really need<br />Is happiness somewhere in between<br /><br />Things are starting to change<br />You're realizing you won't be the same<br />Though you hurt & are afraid<br />Who says things haven't ever been this way?<br /><br /><br /></span><span style="color:#000000;"><strong>Poem: To Make it Make Sense<br /></strong><br />To make it make sense<br />You call it beautiful pain<br />Is it possible the sun will come out tomorrow?<br />Will the moon & stars show again?<br />Does something beautiful end?<br />------->YES<-------<br /><br /></span>Samantha Schutzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10479328655854417840noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7393775250970094790.post-76237022373818124712011-03-07T21:14:00.004-05:002011-03-07T21:17:52.490-05:00"Like a captured rabbit I pounce at a chance of freedom."<span style="color:#000000;">A.M. Young, age 22. Jenkintown, PA.<br /><br />Pain<br /><br />Reality flickers on and off<br />Like a lamp in my mind<br />Sacrificing sanity in the process<br />I am lost<br />Anxiously breathing, heart pitter pattering<br />Like a captured rabbit<br />I pounce at a chance of freedom<br />But I am lost<br /><br />I am unsafe alone<br />But worse crowded within the mob<br />Reality an occurrence<br />I am uncomfortable<br />Now a light which once flickered<br />Is the spotlight on my mind<br />I am forsaken by my spotlight<br />Still I am uncomfortable<br /><br />My spotlight shines<br />When it once flickered in and out<br />Now blinding my eyes<br />I am in pain. </span>Samantha Schutzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10479328655854417840noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7393775250970094790.post-18436632478630069172011-02-24T14:34:00.005-05:002011-02-24T14:48:53.675-05:00At last, new poems!<span style="color:#000000;">Sorry, folks. It's been a really long time. But here are several new posts for YMMFLA! Check them out. Post comments about what you think. Send in your own work!<br /><br /></span><span style="color:#000000;"><strong>Anonymous.<br />[break her down]<br /></strong><br /><em>Like a flower in the sky, I fall gently, creating disturbance beneath me and natural disaster across the seas.</em> I take my place on the stone ledge, fixing my eyes on the edge, begging some part of me not to go through with it, all the while knowing I won’t do it. I witness fear enter in, starting to call revenge my closest friend, daring the eyes to see all they have done. I pinch myself, this is <em>no dream,</em> catch a deep breath, <em>finding in me</em>, searching deeper for more meaning – <em>nothing</em>. Getting closer, feet are trembling, my heart keeps beating; now its racing, somehow being torn between, never knowing if it is worth it to stay alive. <em>I hold my head above the water, those who follow, somehow stronger; though they stumble they find footing absent from my own.</em> No one sees me, the sun betrays me, I jump into the black beneath leaving behind my last words and a final goodbye - <em>not even a shadow. I am beauty, see me falling? Catch me.</em><br /><br /><br /></span><span style="color:#000000;"><strong>Latoya Brathwaite, Age 18. Barbados.<br />Suicide</strong><br /><br />I smashed the mirror on my bathroom wall<br />And watched my reflection shatter<br />Depressed, sad, ugly girl...she was gone<br />The memories, the revolting pain, it all ceased to matter<br />I smeared on some makeup<br />I dyed my hair red<br />And that night...that night,I left her behind<br />Lost within the sharp shards of glass, her face, once was mine<br /><br />My words dripped with forged bouts of happiness,<br />Sentences punctuated with the whitest "Oh-emm-gee"<br />Ten, eleven, twelve...ficticious tales of a wild, exciting life<br />I laughed until I cried, I cried on the inside, inevitably<br />I signed on to Facebook<br />I added my new "friends"<br />And when in pain I told myself, she would fade after a while<br />So I drowned her out in sleeping pills and bullied my mouth to smile<br /><br />The moon hid behind the cloud, the crickets screamed<br />The night I lost my virginity<br />When it was over, he pushed me off the bed and laughed when I started to cry<br />Where were my friends<br />I felt ugly again<br />Depressed<br />Lonely<br />In my hand, the butcher knife gleamed<br />Before I could carve a line on my wrist...I saw her reflection<br />The knife distorted the image but I recognised her<br />Clarity replaced insanity...the wrongs I did to her,came flooding back to me<br /><br />I made her overdose on the wild life<br />Evertime I pretended to be like them, the noose tightened around her neck<br />I stabbed her in the heart when I gave away my innocence<br />Clarity.<br />Her reflection would always be mine<br />When the knife slid from my hand...I realised, I had already murdered<br />Me.<br /><br /><br /></span><span style="color:#000000;"><strong>Joshua Diehl, age 18. Denton, Texas.<br />Concerning Inadequacy</strong><br /><br />Inspiration,<br /><br />How you torture me as a flipping switch<br />Turning swiftly, repeatedly, from marriage to suicide<br />Between art and happiness, I cannot decide<br />But sorrow never seems to kick me into the ditch<br /><br />My heartstrings have become sanguinary<br />But this could never be a fault of yours<br />Lord, I do not think this has been a dream of sorts<br />Although I am not certain of anything, anymore<br /><br />No longer shaped like a cradle, both hands on the rusting rail,<br />Barely shuffling up perished steps<br />I forgot to take the time to reconstruct a liar’s bed<br />No wonder I come home only to the coffee she left<br /><br />Time will spread her wings and fly<br />If you let her stare too long into the sky<br />I do not think your love will fix everything<br />But God, how I would quite love to try<br /><br /><br /></span><span style="color:#000000;"><strong>A.M. Young, age 22. Jenkintown, PA.<br />Molestation<br /></strong><br />Binds me to the past, like a pair of steel clasped hand cuffs<br />Tightened to my wrists, I feel them squeezing the blood<br />Blood that should be flowing from my hands to my heart<br /><br />My heart beats rapidly as I am linked to the past barely surviving<br />Laughing at the notion of thriving ever even considered<br />Soulless it seems from the lies of the deep abyss<br /><br />Light indigo lines ran rapid in the child’s eyes<br />Or were they dark like the color of the soil<br />Forgotten now the simple description of the doer<br /><br />Look what ignorance has done to the Molested<br />Ignorance of the molested and the doer<br />Ignorance of the guardian, the watcher, the closeness<br /><br />Binds me to the past, like a shackle of a slave<br />Crippled I am soul, body, and mind<br />My innocence forced out<br /><br />Driven out of the soul like a whipped, beaten horse<br />A stallion beautiful once, but now a simple ass<br />Loaded with the stress of a strain not its fault<br /><br />HA! Says the molested, HE! Says the ass<br />I am wounded, forgotten, overlooked<br />I am bound to this past, the emotion of a tumultuous storm<br /><br />The storm rages on and pours down over my body<br />Cleans dear lord of all my oppression<br />“Blessed are they who mourn,<br /><br />For they will be comforted”<br />I can only pray<br />The binding of the my soul to the molested<br /></span><br /><span style="color:#000000;"></span><br /><strong><span style="color:#000000;">Anonymous. </span></strong><br /><span style="color:#000000;"><strong>Little Word</strong><br /><br />If I were going to write you<br />it would only be one word—</span><br /><span style="color:#000000;">hi.<br /></span><span style="color:#000000;">I’d print it so small<br />that it would be barely<br />visible, just a whisper<br />of lead on paper<br />saying<br />I am still here.<br /></span><span style="color:#000000;"></span>Samantha Schutzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10479328655854417840noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7393775250970094790.post-60715575133455173782010-11-08T10:14:00.002-05:002010-11-08T10:20:26.517-05:00"I look in the mirror and I see a stranger."<span style="font-family:georgia;color:#000000;">Nicole Easterwood, age 20. Ohatchee, Alabama<br /><br />I can feel the heaviness again.<br />I am driving down the road<br />at ninety to nothing,<br />flooring it so I can get home,<br />so I don’t have to do this<br />in the middle of the road<br />alone.<br />My sister’s there.<br />She knows what to do,<br />what to say to me<br />to make me begin<br />to calm down.<br />Even if I don’t tell her<br />what’s going on.<br />There is nothing here,<br />but blackness<br />and my mind<br />is pacing back and forth.<br />I keep trying to figure out<br />what triggered it this time<br />so I can know not to do<br />whatever it was again.<br />But each time<br />it’s something different.<br />Each time the “thing”<br />that makes me feel like I am<br />losing<br />control<br />changes.<br />I can’t pinpoint anything anymore.<br />I can’t figure out what it is this time.<br />All I can see<br />when I turn around<br />each corner is<br />fail,<br />Fail,<br />FAIL.<br />Like nothing I’m doing matters<br />and the sea of brackish water<br />is consuming my lungs<br />when I am mute.<br />Like all it would take<br />to make all of the tension<br />and pulsating stop would be<br />making a stop by “Blunt Guy’s” house.<br />I could waste away<br />into the pot<br />and the alcohol and,<br />for a little while,<br />I wouldn’t feel like<br />I was dying.<br />The offer is<br />so tempting.<br />Then I think of Jake<br />and my mentor and<br />what they would think of me<br />if they knew all of this,<br />but I can’t take all of it anymore.<br />I look in the mirror<br />and I see a stranger,<br />someone who<br />could not possibly be Nicole,<br />someone who should not still<br />be here in this town,<br />someone who should<br />be gone by now.<br />And Jo is the only one<br />who really understands<br />that I can’t be<br />in this house anymore.<br />That even driving is a task<br />and my chest is still heavy<br />and stomach churning<br />as I pull in the driveway<br />and try to breathe,<br />breathe,<br />breathe.<br /></span>Samantha Schutzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10479328655854417840noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7393775250970094790.post-67831367584494526032010-10-27T13:59:00.003-04:002010-10-27T14:52:24.545-04:00"The knowledge that I’m not alone helped me find balance."<span style="font-family:georgia;color:#000000;">Amber McLain, age 18. Michigan<br /><br />Panic rises and grips my throat, my heart. I feel like death has his arms around me, waiting for just the right moment to move his hands around my neck. I can’t do this. I can’t do this. Why does no one understand that? Can no one understand what’s going on? I’m too shy to ask for help, but is it really not obvious? Mom, dad, sisters one, two and three – do you not see how much I’m suffering? No one understands, until…a book. A book gives me hope. Many books, actually. They help me realize that what’s wrong isn’t that I’m crazy; what’s wrong is that I’m depressed; I might very well have panic disorder. This is oddly calming; just knowing that I am not alone in this struggle helps. I don’t feel as bad, don’t feel the need to hide, don’t self-medicate. The knowledge that I’m not alone helped me find balance.<br /></span>Samantha Schutzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10479328655854417840noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7393775250970094790.post-33222638273859128042010-10-07T19:57:00.017-04:002010-10-07T20:42:56.440-04:00Ned Vizzini and It's Kind of a Funny Story<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_J7n-Try9Kns/TK5ktBrW2_I/AAAAAAAAAz0/gpaN_3mTcTc/s1600/movie+poster.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 216px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5525464517537356786" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_J7n-Try9Kns/TK5ktBrW2_I/AAAAAAAAAz0/gpaN_3mTcTc/s320/movie+poster.jpg" /></a><br /><div><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#000000;">I am so excited to be posting this next submission. It's from friend and fellow young adult author, Ned Vizzini. His most recent novel, <em>It's Kind of a Funny Story</em>, was adapted as a film and hits theaters across the country TOMORROW (10/8/10)! </span><br /><br /><div><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#000000;">Read more about the film and its outstanding cast </span><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#000000;"><a href="http://focusfeatures.com/film/its_kind_of_a_funny_story/"><span style="color:#009900;">here</span></a><span style="color:#009900;">.</span> And more about Ned and his </span><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#000000;">infinite awesomeness </span><a href="http://ned-vizzini.livejournal.com/173229.html"><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#009900;">here. </span></a><span style="color:#000000;">Finally, Ned and I will be doing a reading together on 10/26/10 at Barnes & Noble in Park Slope, Brooklyn at 7pm.</span></div><div><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#000000;"></span></div><div><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#000000;"></span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#000000;">Ned Vizzini, age 29. Los Angeles, CA.<br /></span><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#000000;"><br />"When I went into a psychiatric hospital for a week-long stay for depression and 'suicidal ideation' in November 2004, I found myself with a lot of time on my hands. Although I'm a writer by profession I decided to try and do abstract art. I limited my color palette and tried to just make pleasing shapes with Cray-Pas on paper. The goal was to see the colors blend well and to bring motion to the composition. I ended up really liking these drawings, and I used the art-therapy angle when I made the main character of my subsequent novel It's Kind of a Funny Story draw 'brain maps' during his own hospital stay. In a real way, these are the drawings that inspired the brain maps." </span></div><div><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#000000;"></span></div><br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_J7n-Try9Kns/TK5nw2er9-I/AAAAAAAAAz8/Wu9bMdV_mWs/s1600/ned+1+rev.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 259px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5525467881785784290" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_J7n-Try9Kns/TK5nw2er9-I/AAAAAAAAAz8/Wu9bMdV_mWs/s320/ned+1+rev.jpg" /></a> <a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_J7n-Try9Kns/TK5oCLxwXSI/AAAAAAAAA0E/5FVjMBJcKLc/s1600/ned+2.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 237px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5525468179560684834" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_J7n-Try9Kns/TK5oCLxwXSI/AAAAAAAAA0E/5FVjMBJcKLc/s320/ned+2.jpg" /></a><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_J7n-Try9Kns/TK5oTOWx8oI/AAAAAAAAA0M/3KV0Hure1bg/s1600/ned+3.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 245px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5525468472310624898" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_J7n-Try9Kns/TK5oTOWx8oI/AAAAAAAAA0M/3KV0Hure1bg/s320/ned+3.jpg" /></a></div>Samantha Schutzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10479328655854417840noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7393775250970094790.post-72501343449007663152010-10-01T15:41:00.008-04:002010-10-28T11:06:08.748-04:00On sale day and PHOTO CONTEST!<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_J7n-Try9Kns/TKY7ZVo04VI/AAAAAAAAAzE/J1Rroc4q7l4/s1600/YANH+cover.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 226px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5523167299507642706" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_J7n-Try9Kns/TKY7ZVo04VI/AAAAAAAAAzE/J1Rroc4q7l4/s320/YANH+cover.jpg" /></a><br /><div><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_J7n-Try9Kns/TKY5xJkEoUI/AAAAAAAAAy0/LoSKqsvc0-M/s1600/cemetery+4.jpg"></a><div><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#000000;">The awesome-ness of on-sale day is not just limited to my new novel, <em>You Are Not Here,</em> coming out. I am also launching a photo contest!<br /><br />Entries will be accepted until 11:59pm (EST) December 20th, 2010. Three winners will be announced January 10th, 2011.<br /><br />Check <a href="http://samanthaschutz.net/site/?p=447"><span style="color:#009900;">here</span></a> for how to submit, guidelines, and more!<br /></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#000000;">----------</span></div></div><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#000000;"><div></div><div>Here’s an idea of what an entry might look like.<br />(Keep in mind, your pic doesn’t have to be in a cemetery.)<br /><br />Name: Samantha Schutz<br />Age: 31<br />Location: NYC<br />What inspired this picture: I love how a cemetery can be beautiful, but at the same time, really depressing.<br />What quote from You Are Not Here is associated with this image:<br /><br /><strong><span style="font-size:130%;">“Nothing grows here besides grass.”</span></strong></span></div><div><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#000000;"></span></div><div><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#000000;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_J7n-Try9Kns/TKY5ooxE7fI/AAAAAAAAAys/iKuxz_wnyoY/s1600/cemetery+4.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 400px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 266px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5523165363317304818" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_J7n-Try9Kns/TKY5ooxE7fI/AAAAAAAAAys/iKuxz_wnyoY/s400/cemetery+4.jpg" /></a></span></div><br /><div><br /></div><br /><div></div><br /><div><br /></div><br /><div></div><br /><div><br /></div><br /><div></div><br /><div><br /><br /><br /></div><br /><div></div>Samantha Schutzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10479328655854417840noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7393775250970094790.post-79816813073787867702010-09-27T21:19:00.001-04:002010-09-27T21:24:30.531-04:00"She colored her world outside the lines."<span style="font-family:georgia;color:#000000;">klp, age 18.</span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#000000;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#000000;">[I found her in the midst of my struggle] :<br /><br />“She smiled, I smiled. Her eyes wondered where mine once strayed, and her feet stepped where mine once stumbled. I watched as she made believe, tarring up pretty little pictures into tiny little pieces, cleaning up the mess she made. I saw her gentle smile as she colored her world outside the lines, unafraid of getting hurt, yet maybe a little too wreckless and flawed. As she starred at the image in disbelief, I recognized the pain behind her eyes as she started to believe the lies that she was not enough. I always knew she was just a little bit too much like me. If I could tell her one thing, it would be to be beautiful just the way she is.” </span>Samantha Schutzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10479328655854417840noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7393775250970094790.post-49945817905896406172010-09-27T21:17:00.003-04:002010-09-27T21:19:05.274-04:00"This tunnel has been dark but you showed me light."<span style="font-family:georgia;color:#000000;">Colleen, Kentucky. Age 15.<br />Song: Road to Recovery<br /><br />I felt good today<br />I haven't felt like this in awhile<br />You were walking with me<br />You have a way of making me smile<br /><br />(Chorus:)<br />We've been on this road together<br />It's been a long journey<br />But you've held my hand this whole time<br />On this road to recovery<br /><br />I don't know what I'd do without you<br />You've saved my life<br />This tunnel has been dark but you showed me light<br />And stayed by my side<br /><br /><br />(Repeat Chorus)</span>Samantha Schutzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10479328655854417840noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7393775250970094790.post-13784580687060056722010-09-01T10:48:00.004-04:002010-09-27T21:15:01.413-04:00"The silence was too thick to be cut. Too hollow to be filled."<p style="COLOR: rgb(0,0,0)" class="ecxmsonormal" face="georgia">Jamie Lynn Cox<?xml:namespace prefix = o /><o:p></o:p>, age 18. Fresno, CA.</p><p style="COLOR: rgb(0,0,0)" class="ecxmsonormal" face="georgia"><o:p></o:p>Sorry</p><p style="COLOR: rgb(0,0,0)" class="ecxmsonormal" face="georgia"><br /></p><p style="COLOR: rgb(0,0,0)" class="ecxmsonormal" face="georgia">I had a dream last night <o:p></o:p></p><p style="TEXT-INDENT: 0.5in; COLOR: rgb(0,0,0)" class="ecxmsonormal" face="georgia">That I boarded a train <o:p></o:p></p><p style="TEXT-INDENT: 0.5in; COLOR: rgb(0,0,0); MARGIN-LEFT: 0.5in" class="ecxmsonormal" face="georgia">To nowhere in particular<o:p></o:p></p><p style="COLOR: rgb(0,0,0)" class="ecxmsonormal" face="georgia">But I was not alone<o:p></o:p></p><p style="COLOR: rgb(0,0,0)" class="ecxmsonormal" face="georgia">There were several people there<o:p></o:p></p><p style="TEXT-INDENT: 0.5in; COLOR: rgb(0,0,0)" class="ecxmsonormal" face="georgia">Just as bewildered as I<o:p></o:p></p><p style="COLOR: rgb(0,0,0)" class="ecxmsonormal" face="georgia">All were dressed in thin clothing <o:p></o:p></p><p style="TEXT-INDENT: 0.5in; COLOR: rgb(0,0,0)" class="ecxmsonormal" face="georgia">And shivering<o:p></o:p></p><p style="TEXT-INDENT: 0.5in; COLOR: rgb(0,0,0); MARGIN-LEFT: 0.5in" class="ecxmsonormal" face="georgia">Ill-prepared for the cold climate <o:p></o:p></p><p style="COLOR: rgb(0,0,0)" class="ecxmsonormal" face="georgia">There were no tickets <o:p></o:p></p><p style="TEXT-INDENT: 0.5in; COLOR: rgb(0,0,0)" class="ecxmsonormal" face="georgia">No assigned seating<o:p></o:p></p><p style="TEXT-INDENT: 0.5in; COLOR: rgb(0,0,0); MARGIN-LEFT: 0.5in" class="ecxmsonormal" face="georgia">No listed destinations<o:p></o:p></p><p style="COLOR: rgb(0,0,0)" class="ecxmsonormal" face="georgia">It was as if it were a one-way train <o:p></o:p></p><p style="TEXT-INDENT: 0.5in; COLOR: rgb(0,0,0)" class="ecxmsonormal" face="georgia">That would sleepily continue into the infinite darkness of night<o:p></o:p></p><p style="COLOR: rgb(0,0,0)" class="ecxmsonormal" face="georgia">The silence was too thick to be cut<o:p></o:p></p><p style="TEXT-INDENT: 0.5in; COLOR: rgb(0,0,0)" class="ecxmsonormal" face="georgia">Too hollow to be filled<o:p></o:p></p><p style="COLOR: rgb(0,0,0)" class="ecxmsonormal" face="georgia">I stumbled to my seat<o:p></o:p></p><p style="TEXT-INDENT: 0.5in; COLOR: rgb(0,0,0)" class="ecxmsonormal" face="georgia">Trying to recall where I was and why<o:p></o:p></p><p style="COLOR: rgb(0,0,0)" class="ecxmsonormal" face="georgia">Suddenly I spotted part of a name tag on one of the passengers<o:p></o:p></p><p style="TEXT-INDENT: 0.5in; COLOR: rgb(0,0,0)" class="ecxmsonormal" face="georgia">Shamefully trying to hide it in the breast of their coat so I couldn’t read it<o:p></o:p></p><p style="COLOR: rgb(0,0,0)" class="ecxmsonormal" face="georgia">I realized that every nameless person had one<o:p></o:p></p><p style="TEXT-INDENT: 0.5in; COLOR: rgb(0,0,0)" class="ecxmsonormal" face="georgia">Whether or not they knew about it<o:p></o:p></p><p style="COLOR: rgb(0,0,0)" class="ecxmsonormal" face="georgia">I frantically searched for mine to no avail<o:p></o:p></p><p style="TEXT-INDENT: 0.5in; COLOR: rgb(0,0,0)" class="ecxmsonormal" face="georgia">I wanted to know who I was!<o:p></o:p></p><p style="COLOR: rgb(0,0,0)" class="ecxmsonormal" face="georgia">There was a drunken vagrant sleeping in the back<o:p></o:p></p><p style="TEXT-INDENT: 0.5in; COLOR: rgb(0,0,0)" class="ecxmsonormal" face="georgia">Who reeked of his own piss and filth<o:p></o:p></p><p style="COLOR: rgb(0,0,0)" class="ecxmsonormal" face="georgia">I didn’t want to touch him <o:p></o:p></p><p style="TEXT-INDENT: 0.5in; COLOR: rgb(0,0,0)" class="ecxmsonormal" face="georgia">But I had to get closer<o:p></o:p></p><p style="TEXT-INDENT: 0.5in; COLOR: rgb(0,0,0); MARGIN-LEFT: 0.5in" class="ecxmsonormal" face="georgia">I had to know his name<o:p></o:p></p><p style="COLOR: rgb(0,0,0)" class="ecxmsonormal" face="georgia">I saw the rectangular sticker displayed right on his chest<o:p></o:p></p><p style="TEXT-INDENT: 0.5in; COLOR: rgb(0,0,0)" class="ecxmsonormal" face="georgia">As if he didn’t realize it was there<o:p></o:p></p><p style="TEXT-INDENT: 0.5in; COLOR: rgb(0,0,0); MARGIN-LEFT: 0.5in" class="ecxmsonormal" face="georgia">Or as if he didn’t care to hide it<o:p></o:p></p><p style="COLOR: rgb(0,0,0)" class="ecxmsonormal" face="georgia">His name was Responsibility<o:p></o:p></p><p style="TEXT-INDENT: 0.5in; COLOR: rgb(0,0,0)" class="ecxmsonormal" face="georgia">And I was in disbelief <o:p></o:p></p><p style="TEXT-INDENT: 0.5in; COLOR: rgb(0,0,0); MARGIN-LEFT: 0.5in" class="ecxmsonormal" face="georgia">How could Responsibility just let himself go like that?<o:p></o:p></p><p style="COLOR: rgb(0,0,0)" class="ecxmsonormal" face="georgia">As my search progressed<o:p></o:p></p><p style="TEXT-INDENT: 0.5in; COLOR: rgb(0,0,0)" class="ecxmsonormal" face="georgia">I discovered a name for everyone<o:p></o:p></p><p style="COLOR: rgb(0,0,0)" class="ecxmsonormal" face="georgia">Worry sat in the front row <o:p></o:p></p><p style="TEXT-INDENT: 0.5in; COLOR: rgb(0,0,0)" class="ecxmsonormal" face="georgia">Rocking back and forth next to Fear<o:p></o:p></p><p style="TEXT-INDENT: 0.5in; COLOR: rgb(0,0,0); MARGIN-LEFT: 0.5in" class="ecxmsonormal" face="georgia">Who held his head in his hands<o:p></o:p></p><p style="COLOR: rgb(0,0,0)" class="ecxmsonormal" face="georgia">Beauty’s makeup was smeared across her face<o:p></o:p></p><p style="TEXT-INDENT: 0.5in; COLOR: rgb(0,0,0)" class="ecxmsonormal" face="georgia">She was crying<o:p></o:p></p><p style="TEXT-INDENT: 0.5in; COLOR: rgb(0,0,0); MARGIN-LEFT: 0.5in" class="ecxmsonormal" face="georgia">She stared relentlessly into the dark windows<o:p></o:p></p><p style="TEXT-INDENT: 0.5in; COLOR: rgb(0,0,0); MARGIN-LEFT: 1in" class="ecxmsonormal" face="georgia">Trying to get a glimpse of her reflection<o:p></o:p></p><p style="COLOR: rgb(0,0,0)" class="ecxmsonormal" face="georgia">Hope was an elderly man<o:p></o:p></p><p style="TEXT-INDENT: 0.5in; COLOR: rgb(0,0,0)" class="ecxmsonormal" face="georgia">I’d assumed he’d been riding the same train for a very long time <o:p></o:p></p><p style="TEXT-INDENT: 0.5in; COLOR: rgb(0,0,0); MARGIN-LEFT: 0.5in" class="ecxmsonormal" face="georgia">Patiently waiting for the train to stop rolling so he could get off<o:p></o:p></p><p style="COLOR: rgb(0,0,0)" class="ecxmsonormal" face="georgia">He wore a smile<o:p></o:p></p><p style="TEXT-INDENT: 0.5in; COLOR: rgb(0,0,0)" class="ecxmsonormal" face="georgia">The only one I’ve seen yet<o:p></o:p></p><p style="COLOR: rgb(0,0,0)" class="ecxmsonormal" face="georgia">There was one girl who never looked at me<o:p></o:p></p><p style="TEXT-INDENT: 0.5in; COLOR: rgb(0,0,0)" class="ecxmsonormal" face="georgia">She just gazed towards the front of the train <o:p></o:p></p><p style="TEXT-INDENT: 0.5in; COLOR: rgb(0,0,0); MARGIN-LEFT: 0.5in" class="ecxmsonormal" face="georgia">Lacking the curiosity of everyone else<o:p></o:p></p><p style="COLOR: rgb(0,0,0)" class="ecxmsonormal" face="georgia">I approached her<o:p></o:p></p><p style="TEXT-INDENT: 0.5in; COLOR: rgb(0,0,0)" class="ecxmsonormal" face="georgia">Touched her cheek<o:p></o:p></p><p style="TEXT-INDENT: 0.5in; COLOR: rgb(0,0,0); MARGIN-LEFT: 0.5in" class="ecxmsonormal" face="georgia">And turned her face to mine<o:p></o:p></p><p style="COLOR: rgb(0,0,0)" class="ecxmsonormal" face="georgia">Her eyes were blue and clouded<o:p></o:p></p><p style="COLOR: rgb(0,0,0)" class="ecxmsonormal" face="georgia">She reached out awkwardly <o:p></o:p></p><p style="TEXT-INDENT: 0.5in; COLOR: rgb(0,0,0)" class="ecxmsonormal" face="georgia">To find my hand, I assume<o:p></o:p></p><p style="COLOR: rgb(0,0,0)" class="ecxmsonormal" face="georgia">Across her hand I found the name tag<o:p></o:p></p><p style="TEXT-INDENT: 0.5in; COLOR: rgb(0,0,0)" class="ecxmsonormal" face="georgia">Hello, my name is Blind<o:p></o:p></p><p style="COLOR: rgb(0,0,0)" class="ecxmsonormal" face="georgia">I sympathetically held her hand <o:p></o:p></p><p style="TEXT-INDENT: 0.5in; COLOR: rgb(0,0,0)" class="ecxmsonormal" face="georgia">And wondered if she knew her name <o:p></o:p></p><p style="TEXT-INDENT: 0.5in; COLOR: rgb(0,0,0); MARGIN-LEFT: 0.5in" class="ecxmsonormal" face="georgia">Though she couldn’t read her identifying label<o:p></o:p></p><p style="COLOR: rgb(0,0,0)" class="ecxmsonormal" face="georgia">Without locating my own, <o:p></o:p></p><p style="TEXT-INDENT: 0.5in; COLOR: rgb(0,0,0)" class="ecxmsonormal" face="georgia">I still didn’t know what to call myself<o:p></o:p></p><p style="COLOR: rgb(0,0,0)" class="ecxmsonormal" face="georgia">She cuddled up to my arm affectionately <o:p></o:p></p><p style="TEXT-INDENT: 0.5in; COLOR: rgb(0,0,0)" class="ecxmsonormal" face="georgia">So beautiful was she<o:p></o:p></p><p style="TEXT-INDENT: 0.5in; COLOR: rgb(0,0,0); MARGIN-LEFT: 0.5in" class="ecxmsonormal" face="georgia">Like an angel<o:p></o:p></p><p style="TEXT-INDENT: 0.5in; COLOR: rgb(0,0,0); MARGIN-LEFT: 1in" class="ecxmsonormal" face="georgia">I instantly grew close to her<o:p></o:p></p><p style="COLOR: rgb(0,0,0)" class="ecxmsonormal" face="georgia">As I watched her snuggle into my side<o:p></o:p></p><p style="TEXT-INDENT: 0.5in; COLOR: rgb(0,0,0)" class="ecxmsonormal" face="georgia">I saw my name tag across my shoulder!<o:p></o:p></p><p style="COLOR: rgb(0,0,0)" class="ecxmsonormal" face="georgia">I read it and a wave of guilt washed over me<o:p></o:p></p><p style="TEXT-INDENT: 0.5in; COLOR: rgb(0,0,0)" class="ecxmsonormal" face="georgia">My name was Sorry<o:p></o:p></p><p style="COLOR: rgb(0,0,0)" class="ecxmsonormal" face="georgia">I realized then and there<o:p></o:p></p><p style="TEXT-INDENT: 0.5in; COLOR: rgb(0,0,0)" class="ecxmsonormal" face="georgia">Through the silence that could not be broken <o:p></o:p></p><p style="TEXT-INDENT: 0.5in; COLOR: rgb(0,0,0); MARGIN-LEFT: 0.5in" class="ecxmsonormal" face="georgia">There was no way for me to introduce myself to Blind<o:p></o:p></p><p style="COLOR: rgb(0,0,0)" class="ecxmsonormal" face="georgia">I realized then and there<o:p></o:p></p><p style="TEXT-INDENT: 0.5in; COLOR: rgb(0,0,0)" class="ecxmsonormal" face="georgia">The warmth of our embrace would be the only communication her and I could ever share<o:p></o:p></p><p style="COLOR: rgb(0,0,0)" class="ecxmsonormal" face="georgia"><br /></p><p style="COLOR: rgb(0,0,0)" class="ecxmsonormal" face="georgia">I awoke and cried.<o:p></o:p></p><p style="COLOR: rgb(0,0,0)" class="ecxmsonormal" face="georgia"><br /></p><p style="COLOR: rgb(0,0,0)" class="ecxmsonormal" face="georgia">How would she feel if she knew she was cuddling next to a person with a name like mine?<o:p></o:p></p><p style="TEXT-INDENT: 0.5in; COLOR: rgb(0,0,0)" class="ecxmsonormal" face="georgia">I felt like Liar, taking advantage of that sweet girl<o:p></o:p></p><p style="TEXT-INDENT: 0.5in; COLOR: rgb(0,0,0); MARGIN-LEFT: 0.5in" class="ecxmsonormal" face="georgia">Someone like Trust should have held her<o:p></o:p></p><p style="TEXT-INDENT: 0.5in; COLOR: rgb(0,0,0); MARGIN-LEFT: 1in" class="ecxmsonormal" face="georgia">Not me<o:p></o:p></p><p style="COLOR: rgb(0,0,0)" class="ecxmsonormal" face="georgia">I wish there was a way for her to have known the truth<o:p></o:p></p><p style="TEXT-INDENT: 0.5in; COLOR: rgb(0,0,0)" class="ecxmsonormal" face="georgia">I wish there was a way I could have told her <o:p></o:p></p><p style="TEXT-INDENT: 0.5in; COLOR: rgb(0,0,0)" class="ecxmsonormal" face="georgia">I never wanted to hurt her<o:p></o:p></p><p style="COLOR: rgb(0,0,0)" class="ecxmsonormal" face="georgia">For all she knew, I could have been Love riding next to her<o:p></o:p></p><p style="TEXT-INDENT: 0.5in; COLOR: rgb(0,0,0)" class="ecxmsonormal" face="georgia">A person worthy of such compassion <o:p></o:p></p><p style="COLOR: rgb(0,0,0)" class="ecxmsonormal" face="georgia"><br /><o:p></o:p></p><p style="COLOR: rgb(0,0,0)" class="ecxmsonormal" face="georgia"><o:p></o:p>I’ve never known a feeling like that before<o:p></o:p></p><p style="TEXT-INDENT: 0.5in; COLOR: rgb(0,0,0)" class="ecxmsonormal" face="georgia">She held my arm without ever questioning who she was holding<o:p></o:p></p><p style="TEXT-INDENT: 0.5in; COLOR: rgb(0,0,0); MARGIN-LEFT: 0.5in" class="ecxmsonormal" face="georgia">She just did it because I was there<o:p></o:p></p><p style="COLOR: rgb(0,0,0)" class="ecxmsonormal" face="georgia">Whatever I was<o:p></o:p></p><p style="TEXT-INDENT: 0.5in; COLOR: rgb(0,0,0)" class="ecxmsonormal" face="georgia">She didn’t care <o:p></o:p></p><p style="FONT-FAMILY: georgia; COLOR: rgb(0,0,0)" class="ecxmsonormal">She held my arm tightly<o:p></o:p></p><p style="TEXT-INDENT: 0.5in; COLOR: rgb(0,0,0)" class="ecxmsonormal" face="georgia">Scared<o:p></o:p></p><p style="TEXT-INDENT: 0.5in; COLOR: rgb(0,0,0); MARGIN-LEFT: 0.5in" class="ecxmsonormal" face="georgia">And clinging to the only person she knew<o:p></o:p></p><p style="FONT-FAMILY: georgia; COLOR: rgb(0,0,0)" class="ecxmsonormal">Unfortunately<o:p></o:p></p><p style="TEXT-INDENT: 0.5in; COLOR: rgb(0,0,0)" class="ecxmsonormal" face="georgia">I was Sorry<o:p></o:p></p><p style="TEXT-INDENT: 0.5in; COLOR: rgb(0,0,0); MARGIN-LEFT: 0.5in" class="ecxmsonormal" face="georgia">And she’d never know it. <o:p></o:p></p><p style="COLOR: rgb(0,0,0)" class="MsoNormal" face="georgia"><o:p></o:p></p><o:p style="FONT-FAMILY: georgia; COLOR: rgb(0,0,0)"></o:p>Samantha Schutzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10479328655854417840noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7393775250970094790.post-71959777172178583642010-08-30T11:38:00.003-04:002010-08-30T11:47:49.164-04:00My first novel comes out in Oct!<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_J7n-Try9Kns/THvQs5qCfcI/AAAAAAAAAuk/xCdtYDGlWTU/s1600/YANH+cover.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 226px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5511228038827900354" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_J7n-Try9Kns/THvQs5qCfcI/AAAAAAAAAuk/xCdtYDGlWTU/s320/YANH+cover.jpg" /></a><br /><div></div><div><span style="color:#000000;">To celebrate the 10/1 launch of my first novel, You Are Not Here, I am going to write 10 new blog posts in the next 30 days. Check them out starting 9/1. </span></div><div></div><div><span style="color:#000000;"></span></div><div><span style="color:#000000;"></span></div><div><span style="color:#000000;">Among other things, they'll be about my writing process, inspiration, and my favorite: behind the scenes photos of the real places the book is based on.</span></div><div></div><div><span style="color:#000000;"></span></div><div><span style="color:#000000;">More to come soon!</span></div><div></div><div><span style="color:#000000;"></span></div><div><span style="color:#000000;"></span></div><div><span style="color:#000000;">Pre-order <a href="http://www.amazon.com/You-Are-Here-Samantha-Schutz/dp/0545169119/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1283182911&sr=8-1"><span style="color:#993399;">here</span></a></span><span style="color:#993399;">.</span></div>Samantha Schutzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10479328655854417840noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7393775250970094790.post-27934558212397982812010-08-06T17:15:00.003-04:002010-08-06T17:20:47.893-04:00"Can I heal?"<span style="color:#000000;">Colleen, age 15.<br /><br />Genre: Song<br /><br />Title: Circles<br /><br />Verse 1:<br />Everything is in circles<br />Around and around<br />I’m seeing pieces<br />Of my mind running around<br />They would just disappear<br />So I knew they weren’t real<br />And it’s only a matter of time<br />Before I realize<br />It’s not real at all<br /><br />Chorus:<br />The way I feel (I feel)<br />Can I heal?<br />The way I feel (I feel)<br />Is it all real?<br />The way I feel (I feel)<br /><br />Verse 2:<br />Everything is in circles<br />Even in my mind<br />Around and around<br />All the places you can’t find me<br />All the places I hid above the ground<br />I remember when I first realized that something was wrong<br />With<br /><br />(Chorus)<br /><br />Last Verse:<br />There’s a place I could go<br />And you’d never know<br />That I’m there in circles<br />It hurts over and over again<br />Because it’s around and around<br />My tears<br />My fears<br />Are in a cycle of coming down.<br /></span>Samantha Schutzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10479328655854417840noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7393775250970094790.post-90835382279243110082010-08-06T09:53:00.001-04:002010-08-06T09:55:26.049-04:00"I write to let go, to feel, to express, to cope..."<div align="justify"><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#000000;">Katie K., age 17. Florida.<br /><br />When I "grow up" I want to be a writer. Whether I’m writing a memoir, a childrens book, fiction, non fiction, whatever it may be. I want to write. Because it is the only thing I feel I am good at. Even on those very frequent days where I feel almost as if I am on mute; like I am at a loss for words that need to somehow be verbalized. Writing is joyous to me, but more importantly it is and always has been an emotional outlet for me. Something that I have always managed to be able to turn to. Even with writers block. All my life I've been blamed for pretty much bottling things up or not telling everyone every detailed aspect of my life, but this is because I write. I write to let go, to feel, to express, to cope, and even sometimes, to just let someone else know “hey, I know what you’re going through, look at me. I’m a mess, too. We all are in our own ways, really.”<br /><br />Point is, I just hope to someday reach out to others with my writing. More than I already have. If there is anything I want out of life, it’s that. Because I know that personally, I’ve gotten through some of the most challenging parts of my life because of a book I read. And no, I’m not asking to be famous. I sure as hell don’t want to be the next Stephenie meyer (mostly because my forte isn’t sparkly vampires, anyway) but I am asking to be heard. But mostly, I want to make an impact and leave my mark somewhere, anywhere, on anyone in the world.<br /></div></span>Samantha Schutzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10479328655854417840noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7393775250970094790.post-27999928030971115572010-07-29T10:51:00.003-04:002010-07-29T10:59:00.629-04:00"The tears flow but they do not over power me this time."<span style="font-family:georgia;color:#000000;">Cathy R., age 34. Brooklyn, NY<br /><br />I am trying to make life simple again.<br />The panic is constantly taunting me.<br />Threatening to show itself to company.<br />This feeling is unbearable.<br /><br />I haven't felt this way since I was 16, and then 22,<br />and then now,<br />and all of the times in between that I blamed it on life being difficult.<br />Circumstances forever changing. Relationships ending.<br />The day to day tasks and obligations that others seem to navigate,<br />but make me freeze.<br /><br />The walking in circles.<br />Back tracking my steps.<br />Misplacing things.<br />Forgetting details as soon as I allow my mind to wander.<br />Trying to figure out why I am here and not there.<br />The constant worrying.<br />Is just time consuming.<br /><br />My chest feels like it's going to cave in.<br />My stomach in knots.<br />The comfort of having water close by at all times soothes me.<br />And antacids in my bag.<br />And the ability to phone a friend.<br /><br />It is difficult to grasp because the highs are so high.<br />And the lows are terrifying.<br /><br />I am unsure if I should go on medication.<br />Psychiatrist thinks I should.<br />Therapist thinks there are other ways.<br />I just want to be uncomplicated.<br /><br />Do I really need them?<br /><br />I function, I create, I am a friend, a daughter, a coworker, I get through my days.<br />I also cry, panic, hoard, have rituals, and I am afraid.<br />It's all very confusing.<br /><br />Everything is sitting on the surface and I feel naked and exposed.<br /><br />When I'm not productive,<br />it makes me feel invisible.<br />I am wrapped with guilt.<br /><br />All I hear is my head telling me that I'm not good enough,<br />Not strong enough,<br />Not talented enough to make this life.<br />And though I know different,<br />It makes everything black and makes me grip onto nothingness as if it defines me.<br /><br />This weeks challenge is allowing the emotions to happen as they come,<br />instead of suppressing them until I cannot breathe.<br />The tears flow but they do not over power me this time.<br /><br />It was not always like this.<br />This will pass, again.<br />It has to. </span>Samantha Schutzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10479328655854417840noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7393775250970094790.post-30283402243861127642010-07-27T09:36:00.002-04:002010-07-27T09:40:12.031-04:00"The lines once created were easily torn."<span style="font-family:georgia;color:#000000;">Sarah Pepper, age 20. Detroit.<br /><br />Change<br /><br />What is my life revolving into?<br />I do not recognize people anymore<br />they are different and I am hazy<br />this one I used to love and adore<br />is confused and hurt by what Ive become<br />we all change some time<br />I take my turn<br />you take yours<br />We cant not be equal to understand<br />Change causes the once funny to be nausiating and cold<br />the lines once created were easily torn<br />I have crossed to the side, a side of just windows<br />for watching and hoping "He" will put in a good word for me<br />or that the vibes of nature, all interconnected,<br />will reach out to each other and help.<br />In here I see only the feeling is there<br />but meek then blowing<br />My days of fear are over<br />I must take this challenge<br />this battle, with no ending,<br />battle it with my courage, laughter, and love<br />one day the spinning and changing will go<br />and I will still be here, forever a glow. </span>Samantha Schutzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10479328655854417840noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7393775250970094790.post-49894519592510750132010-07-26T15:59:00.002-04:002010-07-26T16:02:17.313-04:00"Thoughts of you are forever in my soul."<span style="font-family:georgia;color:#000000;">Caroline "ButtaBRn65" Davis<br /><br />I Found<br /><br />Inner most wanted desires come and go, thoughts of you are forever in my soul...sweet whispers of love gather around my ear,...I listen with joy, passion. My heart dances to the sweet songs of you and I...never will a day go by without you knowing how much "I love you". I have seen, and heard of magic, now with you I feel it, over and over again each and every day, keeping you close for always and forever</span>Samantha Schutzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10479328655854417840noreply@blogger.com0