Elementia growing up

Writing

What Happened to Marguerite?

By Alicia Dressman

What happened to her daughter? She could have been prettier, smarter, happier, taller, kinder. Somewhat like herself, but better, anything at all but this. What would she do with her daughter? She wanted things to end quite quickly, Looking at her was faintly sickening. What if, what if, oh lord,


Real World

By Maddie Miguel

This is the real world With limited freedom, and lots of things to fear Where you can’t get away from the truth This is where violence lives, and people follow you Where guns are triggered at any time or place The tears will roll on a sorrowful face People sometimes assumedly think That the real


A Haiku on Fitting In

By Anonymous

Being young is hard;  often feeling all alone.  Your hair is a mess  and your face is breaking out.  Being young is hard. You aren’t quite sure of your friends,  you’re stressed out;  don’t know if you’re being “cool”.  Being young is hard.  Trying so hard to be calm,  when you want to scream.  H


The End

By Michelle Chan

As children everything is pure Endless and pure As you age you notice the stars Burnt out memories light years away Only if you can see them Past your city lights and suburbs. In their memory we keep living on And amongst our betrayal and companions We grow into a wise ripe age that understands T


Change

By Justine Greig

I have not changed at all. It is not true that I have changed for the better from experience. It is genuine when I say that I have not tried to apologize for my past wrongdoings. I am false when I claim that I learned from myself and others. But, it is sincere that I believe I have Kept making th


Where I Belong

By Lauren Keller

I was once told that we must take adventures to know where we truly belong, meaning that we have to search to find the perfect place for ourselves. I do not necessarily agree or disagree with this statement.


Available Space

By Faith Freeman

Place: noun, defined as a portion of space available or designated for or being used by someone; i.e. one’s spot at the table, or if you think like me, one’s place in this world.


Empty Suitcase

By Rylee Wilson

Some of us haven’t quite found a place We wander with suitcases full of self-doubt and worry We flit from person to person seeking acceptance We run from place to place searching for a passion where we can direct the never ending flow of time so we can waste it in a straight line instead of in a


The Mark of Love

By Kaylie MacLaughlin

Aria pointed at the little flower on her ankle with a short, chubby finger and asked her mother in her unpracticed, fragmented English about what it was. “Pretty,” she said, her ‘r’ little too rounded and her voice broken up by her childish laughter.


elegy

By Holly Murfey

There was a time when innocence meant nothing to me. She was a veil over the childhood I had And took for granted, And when she was stripped I wanted her back. She was pillaged in the basement of an old friend’s house. She lay shattered on the sheets Debased and gone for good, Surrounded by peopl


Dear Me: 1 Year Ago

By Emme Mackenzie

Dear Me, You lose in the end. In the end, you cry for 6 months and spend sleepless nights wondering why you weren’t enough. In the end, your bedsheets become tissues for your tears and your pillow becomes a microphone. Sadness will shake the walls of your room. The volume is turned all the way up


red heels

By Claire Hutchinson

when you click your heels and wish for home, where exactly is it that you go? i packed away all my ambition in manilla envelopes of faded dreams and sent them away to coral reefs so schools of fish a generation after me could learn from my mistakes.


PTA to AA

By Annie Barry

She stood in front of a mirror Clean and sober thinking about how she feels taller than her own reflection

Then she took an injection


A Blessing or The Victory of Another Eighty-Two Years

By Molly Hatesohl

I remember Pauline Miller. Before she moved, She lived in an understated, light green, box of house on Raldoph Avenue. She lived there for a long time.


childhood home

By Emily Martin

she is four years old toddling around on wooden floors like a spinning top, too short to reach the cabinets or see above the sink, clambering atop countertops to reach her pink plastic glasses


Fifteen

By Abbey Roschak

Age is just a number We all start out at one But someone’s first year Is another’s seventh Their neighbor’s eleventh My fifteenth

I spent my thirteenth Thinking of my fourteenth Praying for my fifteenth But I didn’t think it’d turn out like this


An Ode to My Innocence

By Kathryn Malnight

You ruffled dress. You lip glossed,  clean tongued, classy individual.


Childhood

By Gillian Knaebel

Alone to my thoughts, to my terrors, Wishing upon days we were careless, Remembering a time,  Like a nursery rhyme, Where our greatest fears were that of the fearless.


Identity

By Maddie Bauman

When I was a little girl, I wanted to be a princess, then a vet, then a president. I know many girls who at my age shared those dreams. The ones I look at now and think What was I thinking? Those aren’t possible! But for a little girl, that’s ok. I was so sure then. I was positive I knew who I wa