The Self Reimagined

POETRY

In the Shape of Becoming

Amore D.

I rise from who I once was, 

not broken, only learning. 

Every doubt becomes a doorway,

every mistake is a lesson in light. 

I am allowed to change,

to grow beyond the shape I was given. 

I imagine myself stronger than fear, 

wider than the limits I believed in. 

Hope teaches me to keep going,

even when the path is unclear.

I carry my past with me gently, 

not as weight, but as proof of growth. 

Grief 

Angel V. 

Woken up by the screams of painful cries

I wish that all the words I heard were lies

I got the call 

I heard he died 

I dropped down to my knees 

Began to cry

Got in mom’s car

A painful drive 

I felt sickness in my stomach

So much pain I had to numb it 

Hit and run, who could have done it?

Stuck in grief I couldn't eat

Let alone I couldn’t breathe 

Who would’ve known that you will leave

I hope again we get to meet 

Until then save me a seat 

So much pain inside of me 

You made me scared to go to sleep

REIMAGINED

Anonymous 

I am not the same person I was yesterday

The pieces of the past show me how to grow

That version of myself faded from existence

The cracks are filled, no longer broken

Every day is a lesson, a warning, a heads up

But it is ultimately up to you to make the change

You are what you choose to remake

The future is in your hands

Who you are right now isn't who you’ll always be

If Only

by Alex

 If only I could be uglier, 

       So I can get rid of all the unneeded eyes.

If only I could be slimmer,

        So I could make them stop staring at my curves.

 If only I could be a bit wiser, 

      So I could see all the invisible warning signs.

If only I could be invisible,

So these men can stop trying to find me.

If only I felt safe,

   So I wouldn’t have to board the bathroom door.

If only I were more trusting,

      So that maybe my mother would believe me when I cry out in fear.

If only I were older,  

     So my words carried more weight.

If only I felt happy,

    So I wouldn’t need a blade to help me feel anything at all.

If only life were worth living, 

So I wouldn’t be over the edge, ready to finally let go.

If only I were anybody else,

      So maybe I could’ve got to live a normal life. 

***If this poem resinates with you, if you are going through a difficult time, please know that you are not alone. Reach out to a trusted adult or school guidance counselor. You can also find help here:

• Suicide and Crisis Lifeline: Dial 988

• 2nd Floor Teen Hotline: 1-888-222-2228

• LGBTQ+ Teens Helpline: 1-866-488-7386

• Substance Abuse Helpline: 1-800-662-4357

• Safe + Sound Somerset Sexual Assault Hotline: 1-866-685-1122

  
  

A Letter to my Nearest,

I have now known you longer than I have not. I have known you with pink hair as you have known me with a pixie cut; both since faded into memories through fond walks and long talks. I have realized that “friendship” does not describe the magnitude of us. We venture far beyond mutual affection, shared personalities, or inside jokes. Our friendship has become an anomaly in my life, a feeling ineffable, only discovered through experience.

To be known completely is more than friendship. It is our comfortable silence because words don't need to be uttered to be understood. It is hours of nothingness, together simply because our presence is enough. You are undefineably near to my soul; it sometimes feels as though they are connected. There is no greater gift than recognizing an extension of myself in you. I love you impossibly, and that would never change, even if your hair were still a ridiculous shade of pink. 

Yours truly, 

Bily L.

FICTION

Kintsugi

Diana Salazar Rodriguez

I thought I understood pain. I thought I’d built a life out of surviving it, wearing it

like a second skin. Hell, I even had marks around my body to prove it. But this..this was different. This was pain that reached inside me and twisted, tearing through every fragile place I’d tried to protect. My body felt like it was splitting open, and with every push the world blurred, the edges turning red, the air thinning until it felt like I was breathing through a needle’s eye.

“You’re doing just fine, Astralux. Just breathe.”

Breathe. What a cruel word. I’ve been breathing my whole life, and life has never thanked me for it. If anything, it’s punished me for it. Because if breathing is living, then why do the voices in my head grow louder with every inhale? Why do they whisper that I was never meant to be here? That I’m an accident wearing a heartbeat?

And now...now life has the audacity to place something pure in my hands. A miracle. A beginning. Something I’m supposed to protect. But all I can think is how everything I touch eventually cracks. How time turns my hands into weapons I never meant them to be. How I’m terrified that this tiny, perfect thing will one day look at me and see only the ruin I always feared that I am.

“You are not gonna ruin it.”

“What?”

“I know you Astralux, It’s not you...its the world”

“How would you know?”

“Aren't we an example of its cruelty?”

I couldn’t respond to that, I couldn’t find my words. 

“Then why giving birth to it, if its gonna get ruined anyway?”

“Because we have nothing else to lose.”

I hate when he is right. I started pushing like never before; my strength was slipping out; all I could feel was the rising of my own heart beat. For a second, I could hear the voices of my own demons whispering in my ear. Would it be better if you just let go? Finally be free from all your torments. Why can’t you just di—

“Astralux.”

This is it. My body started shaking down. I couldn’t control the tears appearing in my eyes. It wasn’t about the physical pain anymore…nothing is alright...I’m not alright...this situation is not alright. I just wished everything would stop for a second. I wished that the room would stop spinning.

“Astralux.”

Please don’t look at me. The feeling of running away came to me. I needed to focus on something else...the storm outside of the window...not that it wouldn't work...the spinning room...not that it was just making it worse...

“Astralux!”

His voice cracked, not loud, but sharp enough to cut through the spinning in my head. When I finally looked at him, he wasn’t standing tall or steady. His shoulders were tight, his jaw clenched like he was bracing for an impact only he could hear. His eyes weren’t on me at first, they flicked to the door, the window, the corners of the room, like he was checking for threats that weren’t there. Like he always did.

“Astralux,” he said again, softer this time, almost pleading. “I get how you’re feeling. I know what it is to drown in your own head.”

He swallowed hard. His hand hovered near mine, not touching, just close enough that I could feel the tremor in it. He wasn’t shaking from fear of me, he was shaking from memories he never talked about.

“What I’m trying to say is... I’m the only person who knows what it’s like.” He paused, breath hitching. “I know I don’t always talk about it. What happened during the war. What I saw. What I still see when I close my eyes.”

His gaze finally met mine, and for a moment I saw something raw flicker across his face, guilt, grief, and something like recognition.

“But you are not alone,” he whispered.

“You say that I’m not alone,” I choked out, “but you don’t know what it’s like to look at your own child and see your own ruin and demons reflected back.”

He flinched, not because of what I said, but because the word child dragged something out of him, something he’d spent years trying to bury. His breath stuttered, and for a moment he looked younger, smaller, like the weight of the past had folded him inward.

“Damn,” I whispered, a bitter laugh catching in my throat. “What a pair we are. A woman who feels like she’s breaking apart from the inside and a man who can’t stop scanning the room for danger that isn’t there.”

His eyes softened, even as his shoulders stayed tense, like his body didn’t know how to stop guarding itself.

I took a shaky breath and reached for him. My hand found his, and he froze, not pulling away, just startled, like he wasn’t used to being held instead of holding everyone else together.

“Hey,” I said quietly, stepping around the words like they were fragile glass. “I’m sorry. I know you’re here. I know you’re trying.”

He nodded once, jaw tight. “It’s just—”

“Too much?” I finished for him.

“Yeah.”

The room fell into a heavy silence, but for the first time it didn’t feel like it was crushing me. It felt like a pause, a breath we were taking together. And somehow, that was enough to steady me.

I squeezed his hand, gripping it like an anchor. The next minutes were a blur of effort and exhaustion, my body fighting through waves of pain and fear. But his hand stayed in mine, grounding me each time the world tilted.

And then—a cry.

Small. Sharp. Real.

The sound cut through everything: the panic, the spinning, the storm outside, the storm inside. Warmth rushed in, unexpected and overwhelming. For the first time in hours, maybe years, something inside me loosened.

At that moment, the voices in my head didn’t matter. The doubts didn’t matter. The past didn’t matter.

All that mattered was that cry, and the fact that I was still here to hear it.

-------------------------------------------------------

When I saw Astralux hold our child for the first time, something inside me went quiet. Not gone, just quiet enough that I could hear the present over the past. For a moment, it was just the three of us, suspended in a kind of fragile peace I hadn’t felt in years.

Then the thoughts crept in, the way they always do.

What if I can’t be what this child needs? What if I mess this up? What if the past finds a way to bleed into this moment?

No. Not now.

Remember the exercises.

Inhale. Hold...one, two, three. Exhale.

Again.

Inhale. Hold...one, two, three. Exhale.

Keep going. Stay here. Stay in this room. Stay with them.

My breath started to steady, but my mind kept trying to slip back into old patterns—scanning the walls, listening for sounds that weren’t there, bracing for something I couldn’t name. I didn’t want Astralux to see it. Not now. Not when she’d just fought her way through so much.

Then a warm hand touched my arm, gentle but grounding.

“Hey,” she whispered.

I looked up. Her eyes were tired, red, still shining with tears but steady. Present. Real.

“Let’s try to breathe together,” she said.

For a second, I couldn’t speak. The idea that she, after everything she’d just endured, still reached for me, it hit harder than any memory ever could.

So I nodded.

And we breathed.

Slow. In sync.

Her hand on my arm, my hand on hers, our child between us.

“I can’t promise that I will stop looking out for danger.”

“I know.”

Is that an issue? I wanted to ask out loud but my voice didn’t come out, scared of breaking this intimate movement. Something raw and unique that doesn’t happen often. When both of our demons are quiet and we are back to before everything got broken and damaged.

“Its not wrong. Being scared of losing someone you love, you know”

“But it isn’t suffocating. How I always have to look around the perimeter to make sure everything is in place or make sure everything is in order in the house in case of an emergency. Is that okay with you?”

I dropped my gaze to our child not being able to see Atralux’s silver eyes. I fear that I will see my reflection in them and see the man that couldn’t save the people that he loved, the man that caused pain to others, even pain to her—especially her. Will I cause pain in this innocent child? Will I put it in danger if I even get closer? My mind says yes. but my body instantly reaches out to feel some type of warmth.