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By Rahma It’s scary, I know, but also not as scary as you might think. Showing up anywhere on your own is nerve-racking. For some reason, we’re not used to our own company. So we get hung up waiting on people, but life happens, people get busy, time is never right, and you lose interest in whatever it is that you wanted to do. Don’t get me wrong, trying new experiences surrounded by your loved ones is wonderful, but at a time when you’re by yourself, don’t hold back on enjoying life.
Don’t be scared to experience things on your own. Life is way too short, and the voices in your head telling you it’s weird are lying. People are either way too busy or too concerned with themselves to care about someone minding their own business and enjoying life on their own. We would rather do anything but sit with ourselves and our own thoughts for a second, and that in itself is self-destructive. You make great company; learn to enjoy it.
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Dear Diary,
This week has been incredibly busy, so busy that I feel like I can hardly breathe. Which seems to be a common occurrence for me at the moment. I don’t really know why, seeing as I love hanging out with my friends, and I’m doing well in school, and my parents are being mostly okay with each other this week. But it sometimes feels like I can’t really see myself in the mirror anymore, if you know what I mean. It kind of feels like when you’re in the summer holidays, or any holiday for that matter, where you feel stressed all the time because you don’t know what you’re going to do every day, and nobody wants to have a set routine. I can never understand why people look forward to them; they’re so unpredictable! Like on Wednesday, last week, after I went to Freda’s house to try on the lilac dress she made. We had a wonderful time, her mum made us snacks, and once I’d put her dress on, she posed me outside in the field behind her garden, dabbing make-up and modelling my hair. When we came inside afterwards, I went to get undressed and caught myself in the mirror, with pink, rosy lips and a flush across my cheeks. I squinted my eyes at myself a little longer and tried to imagine my face in the makeup, but I just couldn’t see me anymore, so I rubbed it all off and handed the dress back to Freda with a polite refusal to take it home with me. I don’t know what came over me. I guess I just felt uncomfortable. And I’ve always had these, I call them panic attacks, where everything gets too overwhelming and I can’t hide my emotions any longer, so they all come tumbling out too quickly for me to stop. But recently, I keep having them in school, in front of everyone, and it’s so embarrassing, I don’t know what to do. I had one in school the day before I went to Freda’s. I was in my English class and this girl I was sitting next to, Mia, who I was friends with years ago (we fell out – I’m still not really sure why?) was ignoring me again, and suddenly I felt my throat closing up, my eyes watering, and an inexplicable rage passing over me, and I ran out of the classroom before the teacher had even dismissed me. I felt crying, and I was making strange noises, and my hands were scrunching and unscrunching, and I put them over my ears to block the noise. I was in the corridor on the second floor, and then suddenly I was in the canteen and Freda was talking to me. I can’t remember how I got from one place to the other, but I think there was probably a lot of staring. And it happened again today. Natalie and I were walking down from English together, and she was talking about how she’s trying to pick a guy to have a crush on. “Which guy do you think it should be? Who do you think I have the best chance with?” She asked, looking at the sea of people queuing up for the canteen. I didn’t really know, so I just pointed to a guy at random. Natalie pulled a face. “Him?” She said, “He is such a freak. No, I need someone who’s going to make Daisy jealous of me. How about George? He’s fine, don’t you think? Ella? El-” She stopped because I think I stopped walking several strides behind her. I could hear her talking in the background, but my chest was thumping, and my brain was latched onto one singular word: freak. I could feel my mouth moving to form the word. Freak. Freak. My face was wet, and my hands were clenched by my ears again. I was breathing, but sharp, ragged breaths, and I may as well have been screaming the word because it felt like I was shouting. I felt myself walk into the corner of the canteen and stand there whilst the words fell out of my mouth. I tuned Natalie in at some point. “Please, can you just calm down? You’re kind of making a scene. Ella, people are looking at us,” the last bit she said through clenched teeth, and suddenly, I was alone in the corner. I wanted to crawl on the floor and hide under a table or shut my eyes so tightly nobody could see me, but I was still there, I was still in the corner. And then someone came up to me and touched my shoulder. I shrank away from their touch. It felt like knives on a chalkboard were probing my skin. When I looked around, I saw that it was Emily from my French class, her hair in even curly brown plaits. “Ella?” She said, and I could feel her eyes on me. She asked, “Are you okay?” When I didn’t respond, she guided me towards the stairwell and into the first-floor toilets. “It’s quiet up here,” she said, and I locked myself in a stall, put my hands over my ears and crouched down next to the toilet bowl, rocking myself slowly on the speckled tiles. When I eventually came out, Emily was still standing, leaning against the wall on her phone. I washed my hands, and she walked over to me. She didn’t say anything, but she smiled and waved goodbye because she didn’t want to be late for class (even though we had seven minutes to get there). Later, when I got home, I was speaking again, and I told my mum what had happened. She stroked my arm sympathetically and said she thought Natalie was being a terrible friend at the moment. She added, “That Emily girl sounds nice, though, couldn’t you be friends with her instead?” And then she continued to talk about the new group at our church, for teenagers, and how she was going to take me and my sister Tilly along in the week. You see, diary, I think Emily is nice too. We could be friends. We could become really close friends, maybe. Lots of hugs, Ella xxx By Eloise Dear Diary,
I really should stop posting content, I’m aware, but at the moment, I just can’t help myself. My account has so many views now. I have so many followers, and all my posts are doing so well. I just want to get recognised, really. And then I’ll stop. I promise. Every time I draw something new or sew together new fabrics and create a new style, I just have to put it up with the others. This week, I made a lilac and pale sage green ballgown, with tiny pink roses lining the bottom trim. I used this gorgeous satin that I found in a charity shop full of fabrics, and the inner green sparkly netting from one of my Tinkerbell dresses from when I was younger. It looked so beautiful once I’d put it all together, and I teared up a little bit. I put it on the mannequin in the corner of my room, and when my mum came upstairs, she took one look at it and sat at the end of my bed in awe. She said, and she often says this, “Freda…” with a little sigh, and a hand on my shoulder, “You’ve outdone yourself this time.” And I smiled, looked at the dress and fell asleep happier. Of course, this dress just had to go on my social media page. I call it Fredaswispyfashion as most of the items I put on there (and sometimes sell) are fantasy feeling, like my pirate set from a couple of years ago, where I tore apart a load of men’s shirts and made this beautiful pair of trousers, using a corset-type top to hold them, and the white shirt I modelled, together. It’s quite well-loved, my social media account. I have so many comments underneath my posts, most of them from Meadow and Ella, to be honest, but some from strangers, too. Meadow usually just spams me with lots of random emojis. Ella writes the same thing on every post: ‘love it’ with a heart emoji and a smiley face. That’s Ella all over. There are also some less nice comments. I would guess they are from people at school, who are likely jealous of my ability to do something different, but I don’t think about them much. On Tuesday, we were all talking at breaktime about my new Instagram account, as my old one got hacked. Meadow was, as usual, mucking around and play-throwing things at me and Hazel. Hazel was drawing some beautiful wintery scene she’d spotted on the way to school, and also, as usual, Natalie was hanging out with this horrible girl from our year, Daisy. Who, realistically, could not care less about Natalie, and is just using her to get the attention of this boy she likes, who seems to like Natalie. Meadow began by talking about her new job and how she’d asked for more hours. “Any time of the day, I’ve asked for,” she said, throwing a piece of cheese at Hazel, who shook her head and laughed a little. I snapped my head up, “What, you mean during school time?” “Yeah, I mean, it’s not like I’m any good at school anyway. I’m always in detentio, or failing the class, so what does it matter?” Meadow said, giving me a weak smile, and continuing to pick apart the sandwich she found on the floor. I shook my head, but Meadow was already looking away. She got up to talk to Josh, who was passing by, and Hazel asked about my social media account. We started discussing how you can use it to push your way into a career when Ella rushed up to us, all flustered. “What’s wrong?” I asked, beckoning her to sit down. She looked at the wall, with such a mixture of panic and flapping her hands wildly, that I stopped and waited for her to calm down. A person passing by saw her and started laughing. Another leaned over and put her hand on Ella’s shoulder. She froze and started shaking her head. “It’s okay, please leave her,” I said to the person passing, and waved her off. She looked at me with a shrug of my being rude and walked in the other direction. I could hear her telling her friends how obnoxious I was. “No… touching…” Ella drew out, between breaths and tears. She crunched up into a small ball on the bench. “I know,” I replied, and Hazel, who had looked up momentarily, began drawing again, and telling Ella what it was she was drawing. Ella was still breathing rapidly and crying whilst rocking herself a little, but I knew Hazel was calming her slightly. I told her about my new dress, describing the trim of the bottom and the style of the puff sleeves. I told her she could come over and try it on if she liked, as I had made it to fit her size. I always make my dresses sizeable for Ella, as she is the most careful and will usually let me use her as a model. Nat used to model for me as well, when we were a bit younger. Of course, recently she’s far too cool to try on any clothes that don’t make her look ten years older. In this, she calmed down a lot and had enough of herself back that she could nod her head. I knew we wouldn’t get any words out of her for a couple of hours, but I could tell she was feeling better again. At this point, Natalie came over, with Daisy in tow, who immediately asked: “What’s wrong with her?” Daisy fluffed her hair and looked at me for the answer. I gave her a glare that said, ‘it’s none of your business,’ and then said, “It’s none of your business.” Daisy laughed and shrugged her shoulders, unbothered. She said, “Fine, whatever. She’s such a freak,” and she walked off, telling Natalie she’d see her after class. Natalie stood there, looking mildly embarrassed. “Is she… are you okay?” Natalie asked, looking at Ella, who was looking at the floor. Ella remained completely silent, so I said, “No, she’s not okay, and thank you for coming over after it was over.” Natalie merely looked at Ella, and then at me. “What’s with all the going off anyway?” I questioned, “You’re never around us anymore. You’re always with that Daisy girl, who is rude, by the way.” Meadow rejoined us then, and she began talking to Hazel about some project they both need to complete in music. Natalie opened her mouth, as if to respond, and then shut it, and simply said, “I’ll see you later. I like your new account; the dresses look good.” She waivered at Ella, and then poked Hazel, “I’ll see you in science. Meadow?” Meadow looked up. Natalie added, “After school, yeah?” Meadow stuck her thumb up and nodded. Natalie left then, and I asked Meadow, “What’re you doing after school?” “I’m going to see if I can get Nat a job too, at my work.” “Oh,” I said, and I thought for a moment, “Could you ask her to stand up for us once in a while?” Meadow sighed. “I can try,” she replied. Dear Diary, Ella came over and tried on the lilac dress. It looked so beautiful on her; I wanted her to keep it so much. But she said it was too special for me to part with, and she gave it back to me, promising to come back and try it on again. I put all the photos of the dress online. Not the ones of Ella, of course, I am well aware that she gets enough slack at school without being criticised online as well. But I made a new post, with all the pictures of the dress on the mannequin, and in the long green reeds outside my bedroom. I sat and filtered the lighting and my sketches pre-dress, until they were exactly perfect for the aesthetic of my account. As soon as they were posted, I placed my phone in my room and went downstairs to eat dinner so I couldn’t see if the lilac dress was gaining traction. When I came back, a couple of hours later, my post had exploded. I gave a happy squeal and sat and scrolled through the comments. ‘Wow, this is so beautiful. Could you make one for me for Comicon in a month?’ ‘I love this! My daughter wants to have a version. Would you make one for her for Tuesday?’ ‘Can you make one for my birthday in two weeks?’ ‘I really love the design, have you considered it in blue? I would love it in blue.’ I sat down and scrolled. Over eighty comments, all wanting their own versions of the dress, all in different colours and sizes. I looked at my maths homework, the stack of assignments piling up, and I looked at the lilac dress at the bottom of my room. I sat down at my desk. Four by next week, seven by the week after, twenty after that… I picked up my sewing scissors. Freda By Alina Giri [Anxious feelings are always there - it’s our responsibility to choose how we cope with them]
Readers, we have been scared enough for a long now, and what did it do to us? -Nothing. We all tend to have feelings and emotions well; we are human, duh! And sometimes, those feelings make us feel like life is dark, and there is no hope. I am here to say that that is completely normal as a growing teenager. We feel scared and unhappy. I have been experiencing the same thing for a long time now. I have social anxiety. The worst thing was that I never knew I had a severe problem with fear until the first day of grade seven, when I could not say hey to one of my classmates. A sudden voice inside me told me you were wrong, and I guess it was genuine fear of opening up to people. I don't even know what causes that fear in me, because I am sure the doctor took me out of my mom's belly very healthy. After 20,20, everything seemed to change. Well yeah, we had to wear a mask and all, but not only that, something just randomly changed. I knew that voice inside me was eating me alive. Every day, I was surprised by my act of just not being comfortable around people I felt most comfortable with before. It just made me sadder. I felt like I jumped and sank into a deep wellbore of anxious feelings. I shared such issues with some of my friends, and I was relieved when they said; Me too. So I realised it was normal. Until yesterday, I started looking for solutions to my fear. But the sad thing was, I have come to understand that feeling will always exist within me, and I came to realise I just had to focus on the good. Create more happy memories and let the fear decay deep in my heart so that it will never return. Fortunately, I started reading Wake Up to the joy of you' by Agapi. It is a great book. It helped me to cope with anxieties and find myself through. It helped me to find joy. For a fact, I knew if I went to bed happily, I would wake up in a good mood, so I always let the book lie on my table beside my bed. Before going to sleep, I always read. It worked. I felt better and remember this: things will go so much worse before getting better. The advice I would want to give to my friends out there is that read the book and express your thoughts through a journal because that worked for me. Likewise, writing poems helped me find peace within myself. So use your talents to cope with your stress. I run or play soccer, and it is a great distraction. You have to know yours, too. Also, remember the anxious feelings inside us are just distractions from the good things. I know it's easy for people to quote that, but it is. By Guest Writer At the age of 17 or 18, teenagers have to consider what they are going to do with their lives. Many choose the route of university as it gives them 3 or 4 years to then figure out what they would like to do for a career.
For me, I always knew that I had to go to university; all my friends were going, and it just seemed like it was the safest route. Once I knew that I was going to apply, there were quite a few questions that I had to answer:
Those above are the fundamental questions, but there are more that arise, such as:
For a long time, I felt very scared and avoided talking about my plans with anyone, because for the first time in my life, I knew that I was now in complete control of it. Although I could ask for advice along the way, I was completely independent. The advice that I can give the reader is that no matter how scary a decision may seem, you will eventually figure out what to do. The best way to figure out your stance is to really break it up into smaller questions. If you get really stuck between 2 options, ask for advice from others who are close to you. You could even make a pros and cons list! University might not be the right route for you at all. It wasn’t the correct path for me to take straight after leaving school. Don’t worry if you feel overwhelmed about the future; you will figure it out, but the worst thing you can do is hide from the big decisions. By Meghna A people pleaser, everyone knows who this kind of person is. Someone who is a shapeshifter, in a sense, morphs their emotions and personality to get others to like them better.
But in a family role, it’s very different. This type of person wants to maintain family harmony, so no one should fight or yell. Everyone should be happy, so they believe they should change themselves to make each family member happy. Hello, I am the people pleaser in my family. I have been a “family pleaser” my whole life, and this has led to some problems, such as a deep-rooted fear of causing conflict, which can cause me to withhold my true thoughts and emotions. I am constantly grappling with the fear of disappointing those closest to me. I am here because I know there are others like me, and it is very common for families to have that one person. I am here to support them to break free from this pattern of pleasing people before it gets to a point of no return. Communication is key. Family needs communication for someone to feel confident that their opinion and thoughts matter. To set boundaries that are healthy to everyone involved, in a way that does not create conflict but rather strengthens your familial bond. Finally, recognising that you are always meant to be first in your priority list. “Family Pleasing” is something that is so common that it is practically overlooked as normal in society. But I noticed myself and others creating different versions of ourselves for others. This self-help journey is one that you travel with yourself, a journey to learn about how to be selfish and think for yourself. My final thoughts: embrace yourself because you are wonderful and your family loves you, no matter your differing opinions and beliefs. By Rohini In the vast glistening blanket,
I lie blissfully The clear blue sky stares, As the sun shines upon me I am a Wanderer, Roamin’ bout the streets I stare at the glistening lake, Or lie beneath the shady trees I am a Fairy I fly ‘cross the crimson red sky My gaudy wings spread, I fly high and high… By Rohini My peripheral vision, my whimsical eyes
Like sailors of the sea, they follow the skies The cotton-candy clouds, the blues they adorn And I wander like a lover forlorn The velvet-like greens, the azure blue lake The sun shines upon me, I lie awake To rise from my slumber, sail to the bay Where the sun & stars meet, how I'd feel so gay! By Eloise When I started university, there were lots of different clubs and activities advertised to us in those first couple of weeks, and I signed up for a couple of each.
Originally, I signed up for different sports and eventually for a film society as well. But I also signed up to hear about what volunteering opportunities there would be, and that is what really shaped my experience there. With volunteering, it’s easy to think: what’s the point? There are so many new things to try, like clubbing, pub trips, socials, free time, classes, clubs… it feels like you’re already splitting yourself between so many things. But for me, I found volunteering gave me the purpose I needed. Unless you have nine-to-five classes, most students find themselves with a few classes each day and not much structure outside of these. I was one of those students. I had little structure and found the days long and repetitive. So, I decided to give a nursery volunteering session a go. There, I found purpose outside of the day-to-day self-focused and motivated goals. I was suddenly surrounded by other people relying on me, and in being useful, I went home at the end of the day feeling like I’d achieved something, which in turn made me more productive in my assignments. It began with volunteering at the nursery, but I found so many opportunities presented themselves, and I ended up helping out at a Christmas Fayre, reading in a primary school with young children and volunteering in a church, helping prep food and clean up. In all these experiences, I made so many new friends and gained so much confidence in my abilities to help and look after others. And they often needed people at the same time each week, so while I could take a break anytime I needed, I could also rely on a routine. These are a few of the volunteering experiences I did, but there are so many different types:
These are just a few different types of voluntary work that you might find at university and/or in your local area, but different places will need volunteers in other fields. Giving to the community is bound to make you feel more productive and happier all around. And whilst you’re doing it, you get to make somebody else’s day a little bit easier. Plus, it’s a great opportunity to gain experience in a field you know nothing about, or a field you want to go into when you apply for jobs. It also looks good on your CV! So, when they ask for volunteers for a specific project at university, or you see the voluntary part of the fresher’s fair, give it a look and consider whether it might be a good choice for you as well. By Shradha “Our doubts are traitors, and make us lose the good we oft might win.”
- Shakespeare (Measure for Measure) Your brain is not a quiet place. It’s loud, messy, and full of notifications you never asked for. One second, it’s encouraging you with “You got this!” and the next, it’s bombarding you with “Everyone’s judging you” in all caps. Basically, your mind is less like a calm Zen garden and more like the most chaotic group chat of your life. Imagine your brain as the most chaotic group chat you’ve ever joined. You didn’t want to be a part of it, you can’t leave, and the notifications keep coming. In this mental group chat, each thought plays the role of a “person.” Some are helpful, while others are annoying, and some send you silly messages at 3 a.m. when you’re trying to sleep. Just like in a real chat, how you deal with these voices determines if you feel relaxed or totally overwhelmed. Here’s the key: your thoughts aren’t you. They’re just loud roommates in your mental group chat. Once you understand that you’re the one in charge of this chat, you can begin muting, blocking, and focusing on what really matters. Let’s break it down. The Members of Your Brain Chat Inside the group chat of your brain, a chaotic mix of voices competes for attention. Anxiety fills the thread with worst-case scenarios, while self-doubt quietly questions every move. Overthinking replays old messages, dissecting every word, and perfectionism won’t allow anything to be posted without endless edits. But not all voices are draining. Joy unexpectedly jumps in with bursts of laughter and lightness, reminding you to breathe. Motivation sends voice notes full of energy, pushing you to keep going, even when the chat feels overwhelmingly loud. In this inner conversation, learning who to mute and who to amplify can change your mental space.
“What if everyone secretly hates you?” “What if aliens invade in the middle of math class?”
Sound familiar? How to Be the Admin of Your Mental Chat Here’s the good news: you’re not just another member of the group. You’re in charge. You can decide what stays, what gets muted, and what gets kicked out. 1. Mute Notifications (don’t engage with every thought). Not every thought deserves your focus. Just because Anxiety shouts “WHAT IF” in all caps doesn’t mean you have to respond. Try mentally muting that notification. Acknowledge it, then let it go. 2. Block Toxic Users (set boundaries). Some thoughts or people can be harmful. If Self-Doubt keeps putting you down, block it. Replace that voice with a message like: “I’m learning. Making mistakes is part of the process.” 3. Pin the Good Stuff. Think about those moments that make you feel good. When a friend boosts your confidence, when you laugh until your stomach hurts, or when you complete something you thought was impossible? Pin those. Take screenshots or write them down. Later, when things get messy, you can look back at the reminders that life isn’t always bad. 4. Leave on Read. Sometimes Overthinking will flood your phone with messages. You don’t have to respond. Just leave it unread. Go outside, drink water, and connect with nature. Your silence is a powerful choice. By Japji I always admired Korean culture and fashion, but I never really listened to that much K-pop. However, after watching a viral “kids” movie called “K-pop Demon Hunters”, that certainly changed. Edits of characters were trending, and so were TikTok videos about how obsessed people were. I decided to watch it for myself and see what the hype was about. This was a musical masterpiece, and I am about to break it down for you.
1. The graphics & animations The beauty of the film truly lies in the way it was designed. The animations were very strong in the sense that the characters, the settings and the movements were not at all cheap or choppy and instead very put together with really cool visual effects. It gave off cyberpunk vibes (even though the movie is nowhere near cyberpunk) in a fun and cute manner. The animators put thought into every character's movements, every location, from the private jet to the streets, to their building. It was truly put together perfectly. 2. The characters and their personalities Each character was their own person, and that too put the movie together perfectly. The fans were funny, relatable and very lively, while the K-pop girl trio, although very close and similar in the sense they all loved food and their fans, had their own vibe and internal struggle. Mira was a sarcastic, tough and brutally honest girl who struggled with being the odd one out of her family, a little mistrusting and rebellious. Zoe was a very sweet, bubbly, cheerful, cute people pleaser, but when she raps, she goes hard! And Rumi was a strong, ethical, responsible, intuitive, deeply feeling perfectionist and workaholic who was insecure about being half demon. Then we have the Saja boys. All of them pretend to love their fans and be the attractive and gentle people everyone is obsessed with, when in reality, they just want to take the hunters down. However, Jinu shows personal growth himself, becoming free and slowly falling in love with Rumi, ultimately sacrificing himself for her (something I hope is cleared up in a future film). 3. Finally, the music and culture Korean culture and music are shown in the film, and all the songs were just perfect. With accurate Korean cultural representation throughout the movie, mixed with fantasy and modern-day K-pop music that was uplifting and beautiful, it’s no wonder everyone fell in love with it. Two fictional bands, HUNTR/X and the Saja Boys, have topped actual Spotify charts! I have listened to the songs several times, and it got me into K-pop, so I think I am a major contributor. The songs were some amazing original pieces that I haven’t heard in a while! Essentially, I did not think this movie would be as much of a hit as it has become, but after watching it, I realise that despite it already blowing up, it needs MORE hype. The story of the characters, the development and the music put everything together perfectly, making me experience many emotions and even crying at Jinu’s sacrifice! Honestly, I truly am grateful I watched it because I really wasn’t planning on it, and if you haven’t already, you should give it a try too, because you never know. Maybe a random kids' movie helps you learn and explore new things, and who knows where it can lead you! By Japji I’m just a 15 year old girl living in a nice country called Canada, something I take for granted.
I live comfortably, more food than needed, more entertainment than needed, more money than needed. All thanks to the efforts of my parents, immigrants, a word that isn’t very popular nowadays. I’m just a 15 year old girl who wastes her days doom scrolling on social media. I live knowing that somewhere, on the other side of the globe, kids my age or younger aren’t able to doom scroll, they don’t even know what that means. All thanks to the perfect world, all thanks to humanity. I’m just a 15 year old girl who has the right to live a life no less than a man, like all other 15 year old girls, girls who believe feminism is stupid, a scam, an uncultured belief system. Meanwhile: The 15 year old girl in Afghanistan can’t go to school, or must be very careful when she does The 15 year old boy’s brother in Palestine has just been killed in front of his eyes The 15 year old kid in India has to work several jobs before and after school to make ends meet, with barely any time to study The 15 year old indigenous children in Canada, a developed country, don’t have access to clean drinking water The 15 year old kids in America and Canada are doom scrolling, wasting resources, rage baiting people on the internet, joking about things like sexual harassment and people’s mothers, being told what to believe, developing a bias of what is right and wrong, what religion is good or bad hating on people with opposite beliefs, sending threats on the internet, praising homophobic, racist and sexist behaviour knowing people will validate them for doing so, making podcasts on why men should man up and take lead and why women should make babies and be good wives. Yeah, all seen in the media, proving just how much I doom scroll. All this, in 2025. All these beliefs that 5 year old me thought didn’t exist. I knew sexism was a thing, but I thought it was a thing of the far past, because nobody was sexist in kindergarten, so I thought I was living in good times. Little did I know that the world is still just as backwards as it had always been, just modernized. I’m just a 15 year old girl whose roles and rights are being debated by people who think their religious, personal and traditional beliefs should influence my life. I'm just a 15 year old girl living in a world of inhumane humans. Will anyone start real change? By Eloise Asthma is a condition that is diagnosed at many different stages of life and at many different levels. However, my experience with asthma has changed over the last year, and this experience has shaped my understanding of the condition.
Asthma was something I was diagnosed with at a very young age. According to the series of events, I was asleep and very breathless and ended up in the hospital with an inhaler and a teeny brownie treat every time I took it. For a while after this, I was mostly fine. Many years passed, and the only part of me that asthma affected was my ability to participate in sports and sometimes my ability to play the flute, as it took more breath to perform. But last summer, until the beginning of November, I experienced a significant drop in my iron levels, and my asthma fell with it. I found myself unable to walk to classes at university anymore without needing to sit down and take my inhaler every five or ten minutes. And even when I was showering or sitting down, I found myself breathless and tired all the time. I went back to the doctors multiple times and complained until someone gave me a new inhaler and made me track my peak flow. I also started taking iron at the same time, which invariably helped too. I began to notice changes very slowly. At first, I was still breathless walking and shopping, but I began to gain my life back bit by bit. By the end of March, I began to feel almost normal again, with asthma here and there, but with higher iron levels and the new inhaler, I felt like myself. But while I feel better now, I think it’s important to share some of the things I do to keep my asthma under control.
With a caring community and regular check-ins with the doctors if there are any changes, I can manage my asthma at home and participate in life as much as I did before it impacted me significantly. Learning how to be supportive is also an important part of helping someone living with a chronic condition like asthma. Support can look like researching how to support someone having an asthma attack or asking them what best helps them and who to contact if needed. Even listening to them talk about their experiences can be a helpful and kind way of being supportive. By Rohini I often forget what life was like before 9th grade. I never used to study yet managed to ace everything, the only thing I had to worry about was the petty fights with my sister and parents. I didn’t have to worry what my parents would think if I didn’t get good marks, or what my peers would think if I laughed too hard or spoke too loud; I never had the fear that my “friends” were constantly judging me for everything I did. I convinced myself I was not a pushover, but soon I realized that I was being walked over by virtually everyone around me; I witnessed, in hindsight, every moment I was used by someone, every moment people snickered, every moment people outcasted me. It was tough, knowing every person I knew was judging me, it made me mould every expression, every word, every glance into something “appropriate”.
But I realize now that I never had to shape myself to their satisfaction; I do not have to hold back my laugh, change my personality, or not be “too much”. I love myself for who I am, the people who truly matter accept me for who I am and if they don’t, they are missing out on a vibrant person and experience. It was difficult, caring about everyone, making sure I do not appear callous while they make the most hurtful remarks. I told myself and tried to believe: “They’re not the ones living my life, they’re not people who care about me. I love myself, I love my caring, loud, clueless, shy self. I do not care if it is too inconvenient for them to bear with me. As long as I don’t lose my true essence, as long as I don’t lose my compassion, as long as I don’t go against my principles- I am the best self I can be.” It was hard not to be constantly pleasing people. I often started gaslighting myself, telling myself I’m being rude or that it’s “not a big deal”. But I’m glad I’m working through it. I know one day I will be able to look at myself and tell myself that even though I was so alone for so long, I never lost myself. I know that one day I will have people who love me for my true self, who won’t expect me to change, and won’t leave me behind for their ego or for others. By Eloise TW: Abuse
Dear Diary, One of my favourite things to do at Christmas is watch people’s faces as they unwrap my presents and laugh as they try and work out what it is. As I always handmake my gifts, usually in the spirit of making something someone has never been gifted before, I really cherish the look on a person’s face when they tear off the wrapping and behold the item. This is why I very much enjoyed watching my secret Santa present unravelling. You see, I had Meadow, and she was struggling with the wrapping paper for so long, that when the reveal happened, and the handcrafted item slipped through the packaging, she looked more frustrated than anything. “Whoever had me for secret Santa needs to invest in some washi-tape,” she said, picking the object up off the table. “Okay Freda, what is it this time?” I leant over the table and nicked the button from the top, unravelling layers of tiny pockets slipped into one another, tiny items all stuffed inside it. Meadow dubiously flipped it over and shrugged. I gestured to the pockets. “Open them,” I responded. We all sat and watched her pull open the first little pocket and reveal a tube of her favourite blue raspberry bonbons. Meadow audibly squealed and ran over to me to give me a hug. I smiled and hugged her back. “This makes me feel so much worse about what I got for Hazel,” she said, and then gasped an ‘oops’ and Hazel chuckled, rolling her eyes. “I guess I’ll go next then,” she smiled, and she began carefully unwrapping the layers of paper (and I mean, layers) to reveal a very expensive looking pastel set. Hazel looked up at Meadow questioningly, “I thought the limit was five pounds this year?” Meadow gazed up with her mouth open. She said, “Huh, really? I could’ve sworn it was fifty?” “Fifty?” Ella squealed. “No?” Meadow asked. In receiving many blank looks, she grinned and shrugged, “Oh well, who’s next? Hazel, you had Ella, right?” “Meadow!” “Sorry, sorry! Look, I’ve kept it secret all this time, I did well not to crack sooner, okay,” she said. “You saw it on my present tag ten minutes ago Meadow, I’d hardly call that long, but yes, Ella, I do have you,” Hazel replied, handing the silver sparkly bag to Ella, who was practically bouncing with excitement. All eyes then fell on Ella, who painstakingly separated the tape and the paper, so much so that Hazel suggested she might go and buy the panini she wanted ten minutes prior whilst she did so. A couple of minutes beyond that statement, and then the agitated desire to do so, Ella got the item open and clapped her hands, flushing. “I love it so much Hazel!” she cried, and she hugged the large wooden shape to her chest. I asked her to swivel it around so we could all see, and she showed us this beautiful wooden nutcracker. We then spoke about how much Ella loves the nutcracker until Natalie leisurely sat down at the end of the table. “Hey guys, sorry I missed the bit before… I was just exchanging presents with Daisy,” she announced, putting both her hands on the table. She asked to look at what had been exchanged so far and joined in the laughter over Meadow’s forgetfulness. In the spirit of our activities, I addressed Natalie, saying, “What did you and Daisy get for one another then?” She pulled out a large bar of plain Dairy Milk from her schoolbag and replied that it was from Daisy. With a small frown, she added that she’d bought her a heart shaped locket. “Just a cheap tacky one,” she added, shrugging, although her eyes were watering a little. At this point, Natalie and Ella were yet to have given any gifts, so Ella handed hers to Natalie and Natalie to me. We watched Natalie open Ella’s intricately hand-crafted book on all of Natalie’s dream holiday destinations, wrapped in environmentally friendly paper (after my intervention). Natalie’s face lit up, and she excused herself, saying she had to run off to class. She told me to open mine when I got home and let her know if I liked it. So, I brought her present home with me, wrapped up and stuck together neatly as Natalie’s presents always are. As I tore through the wrapping paper, I could tell immediately what she’d given me, and I too felt a watering in my eyes. It was a pattern for a pair of dungarees with embroidery swirling up and down the legs, beside some thin corduroy fabric and a little embroidery set. Balanced on top was a branch wrapped in a small note. All it said was: 100% natural olive branch. Freda Dear Diary, The best part about Christmas this year is that I don’t have to have teachers breathing down my neck saying, ‘why haven’t you completed this assignment?’ and ‘why are you talking back?’ when I really am not talking back. I can just enjoy working my job and then going home to treat my mum to the best Christmas ever. Perhaps that is optimistic of me, but I really think this year could be the best one. Diary, you want to ask why, why is Meadow this excited about Christmas, especially when she knows it’s obviously the most expensive time of the year, but I will just remind you that I have in fact got a job, and I can afford to make everything perfect. That’s why I’m prepping Christmas lunch with my mum, in the knowledge that we can afford to have the turkey and the stuffing this year, and I can surprise her with a Christmas pudding for dessert, which we’ve never had before. We’re chopping the carrots and prepping the Brussel sprouts and the doorbell goes for the third time this morning, so I go to open the door. My mum got the first one, opening it onto a bunch of extremely excitable teenagers who were in the middle of running away. The second time was much of the same thing, so I volunteer now to save her the frustration. With the warm smell of the meat slowly cooking and the lightly flashing Christmas lights, I draw open the door to a person who is much to my surprise. “Hi,” they say, pulling their coat tighter and looking behind their shoulder, “let me in, yeah?” “Hi?” I volunteer. Daisy shoves into my doorway and beckons me to shut the door behind her. “Aren’t you going to shut that?” she says, and then she walks into my hallway, “Nice. Can I stay for dinner?” “What?” Daisy bites the edge of her nail and replies, agitated, “Yeah, I was going to go to Natalie’s but you’re pretty much a neighbour and well, I ran here so can I stay with you? Just for tonight, till it wears off.” I’m silent. It’s not until my mum calls through and asks who it is and if I would please come and help her, that I find my voice. “Yeah, coming, one sec,” I reply to my mum and drag Daisy into the front room, whispering, “What the hell are you on about, staying here? What’re you doing here? We’re not even friends Daisy. You’ve been horrible to literally all my friends, why the hell would I help you?” Daisy shifts from foot to foot. She won’t meet my eye. “Yeah, it’s like, no big deal, I just, please can I just stay with you?” Her jacket shifts, and I notice a black bruise forming on the side of her neck. She quickly pulls her coat back across herself. Then I register her face again and see the three lines of red and a smaller bruise under her eyebrow. It takes me a moment to understand what I can do to make this situation better, but in the brief split-second it takes me to register this, I nod. “You can stay here,” I sigh. But I add, “You better be nicer to my friends though. Understand?” Daisy looks at the ground. She nods and says, “I can do that.” So, Daisy, my mum and I spend Christmas looped around the tree, opening presents and sharing jokes. It isn’t quite the Christmas I had in mind, but in its own way, it’s perfect. Bye, Meadow Dear Diary, I gave Freda the olive branch. And then I came home and I lay in between the layers of my bed and sobbed. I cried thinking about the locket I’d picked out for Daisy five weeks ago. I cried over Ella’s thoughtful present, over how I’d treated her all term and how my parents were no longer speaking to each other. I cried about the drinking, and the pain and Matilda and my family and my mum and the tears kept flowing far into the evening, much beyond mum’s calling me down for dinner and her eventual going to bed. I lay there, flushed with the feelings that I’d so carefully buried. And I didn’t stop until I fell asleep, exhausted from it all. The next morning, I got up and painted my face, resolved my eye bags and left the house, walking to the park. I saw her, all dressed in a scarf and her pretty, brown boots. And I smiled. “Hey,” I said. “Hi,” she replied, “should we walk?” I nodded, and we walked along the path together, our breath misting in the layers of heavy fog. Our breaths intertwined, and the mist clouded our view. We both laughed, something neither of us had done in a long time. When we sat down, we were silent. I started. “I’ve been struggling,” I said, and I let my hands rest in my lap. A tear leaked from my eye. Ella was watching the water rippling, and she nodded. “I know,” she replied. She added, “Me too.” And we sat there, in the early hours of the morning, in the quiet of the morning runs, and the birdsong that adjoins it, both deep in thought. At one point, I felt a cold and delicate brush of skin, and I let my hand enclose hers. Dear Diary, Christmas is nothing short of fantastic in my household. We have the Christmas stockings above the fireplace, the big pine tree from the tree farm close to us, a dozen sweet treats and carol concerts all intermingled in the holiday cheer. And underscoring these festivities, is the delightful tune of screaming and crying. First, about the turkey and the fact that one of my brothers turned the oven off for fun so the turkey was raw still when the rest of the dinner was ready. Second, over my parents deciding to make the stuffing together. Which is enough said on the matter. Third, over my lack of enthusiasm for the make-up set my dad gifted me for Christmas, when I specifically asked for art supplies. Fourth, because my grandma forgot to show up for dinner and instead showed up at nine PM, causing both the boys to run downstairs and refuse to sleep for three more hours. Fifth, due to the heated conversation my parents had after the boys had finally gone down, and Grandma had safely been returned home. The conversation that they didn’t think I could hear but made me very aware of their relationship problems. So, while the Christmas tree with the pine smell, and the carol services spreading joy and cheer are enlightening in a festive façade, I find the holiday spirit really begins when everyone is asleep and I can draw a snowy picture online, photographed in a distant place, where I can imagine I am. If I close my eyes for long enough, I’m lying in the log cabin, amidst a fresh brush of snow, and my cheeks are glowing in the cold, trying to form a protective layer. And Christmas is just beautiful there. Love from, Hazel Dear Diary, I haven’t much time to write, as my eyes are drooping and I’m almost asleep, but besides all the wonderful presents my parents bought me, and the stocking full of gifts I unwrapped this morning, I had one moment today that I’m excessively thankful for. It was just after Christmas lunch. We were all sat round the dinner table pulling crackers and laughing at my nan’s jokes (which are terribly unfunny), when I felt my phone vibrate in my pocket. I excused myself to sit in the lounge, where I curled up on the sofa with a blanket and the newest addition to my book collection, and looked at my notifications. Behind me, the tree was glowing pale yellow, and the sweet smell of Christmas snacks and plastic tree particles scattered across the room. I smiled. On the group chat with all of us, the one we haven’t used properly for a while since Natalie became friends with Daisy, there were four messages saying, ‘Happy Christmas!’ from Meadow, Freda, Hazel and Natalie. Underneath the message chain, I too wrote: ‘Happy Christmas.’ Lots of love and hugs, Ella xxx By Ali For many people, the holiday season arrives with pressure to feel a certain way. There is a sense that joy should simply appear, that warmth should come easily, that everyone should feel grateful simply because the calendar says so. Decorations go up, music fills stores, and the world seems to agree that this is supposed to be the happiest time of the year.
But for some, Christmas is not loud or bright. It is quieter, heavier. It carries the weight of the year that came before it. There are memories attached to certain songs, traditions that have shifted or disappeared, and moments that feel different than they once did. The holidays do not erase what has been lost or what yet still has to find peace. Still, people show up; they wrap gifts. They cook meals. They gather at the dinner table where conversations feel fragile, but still worth having. Not because everything is okay, but because choosing gentleness feels important. In small ways, they choose it for others and for themselves. Gentleness during the holidays is often misunderstood. It is not about pretending things are perfect, or forcing cheer. It is about allowing moments of warmth to exist alongside reality. It is about speaking kindly when it would be easier to stay quiet, and finding comfort in simple things: the glow of Christmas lights at night and the feeling of being present, even when life is feeling complicated. As the season continues, it becomes clear that gentleness is not a weakness. It is a choice, one made in the middle of exhaustion, grief, change, and growth. For many, that choice is what makes the holidays bearable and sometimes, meaningful. So I’ll say this now, for anyone moving through the holidays carrying more than they show: You don’t have to make this season perfect. You don’t have to feel grateful every second. Let gentleness be enough. Rest when you can. Take comfort, even if it’s small. Be gentle with yourself and others - not because the world is kind, but because you are. Sometimes getting through the holidays isn’t about celebration. It’s about choosing not to close your heart - and letting that be enough. By Sydney When people think of the holidays, they tend to think of snow. Whether it be snowball fights, sledding, or sleigh rides, most people associate December holidays with the ground being covered in fluffy, white, snow. However I think of something a little different. For me, the holiday season means being able to go outside without the sun trying to fill me and cacti (not cactuses, don’t say cactuses unless you want to get laughed at) wearing Santa hats. I think of the holiday season differently because of where I live: Arizona, a state in the southwestern United States.
A lot of people forget that the US has desert biomes even though it actually has four of them. Arizona is home to at least a part of each of the four deserts (https://www.desertmuseum.org/books/nhsd_northamerica.php). Being a state that is mostly desert means it doesn’t get any snow, except in the northern area which gets a lot. Therefore, people living in Arizona have adapted winter traditions to fit our climate better. When decorating for Christmas, instead of putting Santa hats on snow people, we put them on cacti. Whereas some people in other states have electric reindeer, my neighbours have lit-up javelina, wild pigs that like to roam the neighbourhoods. Some years I do wish that we got snow. When I was little, my parents used to tell me that Arizona sent all of its snow to places that need it more. Now, I don’t want it to snow, I just want it to be cold. As climate change gets worse, it just keeps getting hotter and hotter here in what locals call the Valley of the Sun. So, instead of looking for snow as a signal that winter has begun, we look for a different sign: snow birds. Now, you may be thinking “how do birds tell you when it’s winter?”. Well that’s easy to answer: snow birds aren’t actual birds. “Snowbirds” is our term for retired people that live in Arizona in the winter and more northern states, such as … Wisconsin, Michigan, and Illinois in the summer. Therefore, when the license plates start changing to show more states like Minnesota, North Dakota, or even Canada, that’s how we know it is winter. This holiday season will probably look a lot different for everyone. As COVID-19 gets worse again here in the United States, holiday plans will have to be adjusted. Thankfully, I have a small family: just me, my parents, and their parents. We plan to sit as far away from each other as possible, but if cases get worse we may move Christmas to zoom. I know it may be hard to spend the holiday season on zoom, but it is the safest option. To help our doctors and hospitals, it is best for holiday plans to be put on hold. To accommodate this new way of celebrating, try playing some fun games on zoom. A lot of websites have been created to play card games or even board games online, making it possible to have fun with people that aren’t with you. Some streaming services are even creating platforms, such as Netflix Party, that let multiple people in different locations watch the same movie. Doing gatherings virtually may seem like we are back at the start of quarantine, but they are steps we need to take to help get the pandemic under control. If someone had told me that I might not be able to see my grandparents for Christmas, I probably would have thought they were lying. I am their only grandkid and my mom their only child so where else could they go. It will be hard not to see them, but to keep them safe I am willing to go a Christmas without them. On a happier note, this weekend we are putting out all of our Christmas decorations and I am excited to see the electric javelinas once again. By Eloise TW: Emotional/ physical abuse
Dear Diary, How do you go to school when your mum keeps crying and your dad won’t stop yelling? It always starts the same way. I come in from school and sit on the sofa, scrolling on my phone, watching random videos, and then mum comes in. She’s been cleaning all day, and she’s usually got her hair tied up in a bun. She asks me how school was today. I say it was fine. She finishes her jobs; I sit on the sofa. Dad walks in. He wears his suit and tie. He walks upstairs. Mum makes dinner. We eat dinner. Nobody talks, and I eat slowly, chewing each mouthful thoroughly before I swallow, lumps clumping and sitting on the back of my tonsils. I watch my mum. She’s frowning with her eyes, but her lips paint a beautiful, unnatural smile. My dad eats loudly. He doesn’t like the onions my mum has used. She tells him they add flavour, and he drops his fork. My stomach sinks as his fist hits the table. I’m excused; I crawl up the stairs. I wait for their words to hit the top of the staircase and listen for the tears afterwards. Shouting, and then silence. Often, my dad hugs her afterwards. I wait for voices again before I hide in my room. The next day, I wake up to stretched smiles and tired eyes. By the time I get into school, I’m ready. I spend hours perfecting my face, painting a happiness upon my cheeks and lips. I get a uniform card as soon as I get in, but I collect them; I have a locker full of pink uniform cards. I place it next to the rest and find my friends. Ella, Meadow, Freda and Hazel sit on the bottom of the technology stairs, and I find my place next to Hazel. She’s drawing a picture of a dragon blowing fire at a castle. It’s going to be in oil pastels, she says to me. I’m not really listening until I hear Freda talking about some girl who has been annoying her in class. “-and then she impersonated the teacher, saying he was stupid. Honestly, she keeps disrupting my lessons, and I’m so sick of it. I wish she would be sent to timeout,” Freda says, scowling. I ask her what this girl’s name is, and she says Daisy. In my next class, we are introduced to a new student, and I beckon her to come sit beside me. She has long, ragged brown hair and deep blue eyes, combined with a black rucksack that looks exactly like the one I have. Some boy opposite us says he wants to fight her after school. She says to him she doesn’t care, she knows how to fight, she’s been fighting for her mum since she was seven. She tosses her hair and offers me gum. I take some and ask for her name. “Daisy,” she says. “Nat,” I respond. I walk around with Daisy at breaktime and meet up with my friends later at lunch. As soon as Ella leaves the table to get herself a cookie, Freda starts talking about how she’s been really quiet recently and if anything has been happening that we know of. I think to myself, I’ve been really quiet recently, and nobody has asked me if I’m doing okay, but when Ella’s quiet, let’s all talk about her. Hazel mentions some milkshake incident on the way home from school, and by the time she finishes, Ella’s back at the table with a chocolate cookie that will likely end up all over her face by the time she’s finished it. That’s the thing with Ella, she wears scrunchies in plaits in her hair, and she doesn’t shorten her skirt or hitch her tie up like the rest of us. She doesn’t wear makeup; she wears purple glasses and often has no idea why people are mad at her. It’s like she doesn’t care about all the things you’re supposed to do to stop people from being mean to you. Ella’s in my next class, so we walk together. She tells me that she started reading another book yesterday, and talks incessantly until Daisy sits next to me and tells her to shut up. Daisy calls her a nerd and steals one of her pens, asking me, “Should we move away? She’s so annoying.” I look at Ella, and she looks crestfallen. She looks up at me, and I don’t know what to say to either of them, so I just shrug. “She’s not bothering me. Anyway, have you seen Michael’s trainers?” I reply and let Daisy talk about this guy she thought was fit when she met him earlier. I let Ella listen to the lesson and pull the same face my mum does at the dinner table. I feel bad, but I can’t look after her too. Dear Diary, Dad moved out today. He and Mum have decided to separate temporarily. I do my make-up and perfect my hair before I leave the house. Daisy meets me by the front gates of school, and I tell her my dad moved out. She says, “Good riddance.” I say, “Good riddance,” and we laugh, walking through the front gates of school. By Eloise TW: Bullying
Dear Diary, Something has been happening, and I feel like you’re the only one I can tell, so here goes. At first, it was only sometimes. I was walking back from school, and I was wearing my new rucksack, the one with these pretty red and yellow birds on it. Hazel was walking next to me, and we were texting Meadow, Freda and Natalie on our group chat. She kept waving her phone at me and sending videos of us walking through the high street, pulling faces. I could feel my cheeks squeezing happy and Hazel was laughing so much she almost fell over. And then I felt something wet hit the back of my neck, and I turned around instinctively, reaching my arm up to feel where it had landed. My hand came away with a brown splodge. “Look, look, she’s touching it, ew, she’s so disgusting.” “Look, oh my- she’s looking at us, you got a problem?” “You want a fight?” My cheeks grew hotter and hotter, and I watched Hazel bow her head next to me. She looked away. As the crowds of people behind me became louder, I felt my throat closing smaller and smaller until my breath caught in the fragment of air I had left. The next day, we walked home and it was fine again, but a couple of days later, one of Natalie’s popular friends told me I was a nerd and grabbed the pen out of my hand. I fell silent, watching Natalie shrug her shoulders at me as if she didn’t know what to say. Later, when it was just me, Natalie and Freda in History, Natalie turned to me and said she was sorry. “I didn’t know what to do,” she said, and bit her lip, opening up her pencil case. She drew out a black biro and handed it to me. “Here,” she added, smiling slightly. I took it from her silently. “What happened?” Freda demanded, running a hand through her scarlet hair and tying it back into a ponytail. I looked at Natalie and let her recount what happened. Freda shook her head at both of us. “You need to defend yourself, Ella. Nobody will ever respect you otherwise,” she said, and she gave Natalie a look, “And you, come on, be a better friend.” Freda was right, and I wanted to follow her advice so much. But diary, I don’t know how to describe it. It’s like my throat closes up and I can’t say anything. And I haven’t really spoken since. It’s like all the words have fallen out of my mouth. Each day I keep going to school, and each day I can hear people in the corridors whispering ‘nerd’ and ‘weirdo’, and I look up, hoping they’re talking to each other, but their eyes are always lingering on me. I keep showering as soon as I get home because the walk home is never milkshake-free anymore, and my neck is beginning to develop a bruise. Yesterday, my mum asked me if I was okay, and I told her I hated her and ran upstairs to my room. I don’t know why. I don’t really hate her. Freda said it’s something called ‘projecting’. She knows all these fancy psychological terms because she reads all these thick books from the library. She said I need to tell my mum about what’s happening at school. I don’t know, diary, what if it gets worse? Lots of hugs, Ella xxx Dear Diary, I told my mum today. I drew up a chair and sat by my mum in the kitchen. She asked me if I was okay, and I felt tears spring in the corners of my eyes. She enveloped me in a big hug, and I let myself cry properly. “What’s wrong, honey?” she asked, and she wiped the tears from my cheeks. As she did, I felt the last couple of weeks pour out of me and waited to hear what she thought. It sat in the middle of the room, uncomfortably. Mum finally spoke, “I’m going to have a word.” I begged her not to, and I started to cry again. I could sort it out myself, please, please. But she said nothing more. Lots of nervous hugs, Ella Dear Diary, Today was a good day! For a couple of weeks after my mum went into school, I was really nervous they were going to start again. But I think the teachers had a word with the people doing it because I’ve walked home every day and my neck has stayed milkshake-free. I know Natalie’s friend likes me even less now, but I can live with that. Today, Meadow and I went into town to get Hazel’s birthday present, and we were laughing so much the whole time. Meadow kept losing her phone and her keys, and her water bottle. She is always losing her things! Anyway, Freda is really proud of me, and I think Natalie might be secretly too. Lots of hugs as always! Ella xxx By Rahma I’ve always said, if a movie provokes your feelings of uneasiness and discomfort, then it has ultimately achieved its premise. That’s exactly how I felt when I watched Blink Twice. Written and directed by Zoë Kravitz, the movie stars Channing Tatum and Naomi Ackie. With themes that are quite dark and potentially triggering, it wasn’t an easy watch. But rather one that is eerie and thought-provoking.
As you can imagine, any movie that starts with the premise of a famous and powerful billionaire inviting an ambitious waitress to join him and his group of friends on a trip to his private island would stir a kind of anger that would make you yell at the screen in anguish of how much of a terrible idea it is altogether. But things seem to be going all too well with a slight hint of uneasiness and sunshine until it is ultimately not. When inexplicable bruises appear, misplaced items return, and her best friend is nowhere to be found, our main character, Frida, finally breaks out of her dream-like lull. Mind-blowing plot twist after plot twist, the movie, in my opinion, has a breathtaking storytelling style. From its stunning cinematography, clever dialogue, and subtle foreshadowing, down to its powerful soundtrack, you are pained, uncomfortable, and on the edge of your seat. And that’s something I can deeply appreciate when achieved by a piece of media or art. The ending is what you can consider to be quite divisive. I hadn’t fully accepted it until I gave it some thought. Because you would think a person who had survived such trauma would run away as far as possible, at least I would. But Frida is as clever as she is ambitious, and the movie did a good job of never letting us forget that. This transformed the final scene of Frida taking full control into such a powerful statement, and a twisted end to a twisted story. By Avika TW: SA, Violence.
“Because I am not free from my own shackles unless all of my women are too.” With the coming of October, a prominent festival, especially in West Bengal, India takes place called Durga Puja. Durga Puja translates to the worship of Goddess Durga, one of the Goddesses in a culture dominated by Gods. But as a Bengali myself, it feels wrong and unjustified to celebrate a festival of Durga Puja which celebrates strength, resilience, bravery and most of all, a strong woman. A brave, courageous and fearless Goddess. Why does it feel wrong? Because of everything taking place in West Bengal. Recently, a brutal rape case took place in Kolkata. A medical student in RG Kar College was found with 150gm of semen, her ribs cracked and legs open at 90 degrees. Her eyes were bleeding, and marks covered her body. Her parents were not allowed to see her body and it was termed as ‘suicide’ but after a thorough examination, it was declared as a murder. Although, the West Bengal Government has not made any valuable contributions yet and has in fact, reacted nonchalantly, the people of Kolkata have made their anger seen and heard by the means of mass protesting. The college was surrounded by thousands of people. It is safe to say that after hundreds of years, this is what people mean when they say—“the people in power, took their power back.” Especially in a democratic country like India itself. As someone who calls Kolkata her second home, it is safe to say that as a woman, I have never felt more proud but as a Kolkata person, I have never felt more fearless and untouchable as I do now. Although I don’t reside there anymore, I had the most amazing opportunity to be a part of the protest virtually, all thanks to my aunt. This scenario cannot be ignored but this protest will never be forgotten. As said by my aunt herself— “Every person, old or young, male or female, rich or poor was present.” This protest is just symbolic of unity and fighting for a good cause. And I hope to see more coming. I hope to live in a world where I can live freely. Where my women can. Where I can be a doctor, engineer or even a housewife yet not abused. By Mel Rose If you’re like me, when I left school, all I wanted to do was travel the world, see the sights and different cultures. However, it can be hard to find the best budget-friendly destinations. After my experience, I can tell you, I've got you covered!
Firstly, let’s start with a list of cheap destinations to travel to when you’re on a low budget:
However, the problem is being able to get there. Therefore, here are a few tips on how to travel for a low cost, too:
One of my favourite places to go for street food is Camden Market in London, it’s full of unique, tasty dishes from around the world! London can be cheap too if you look in the right places, so don’t worry, here are those places to look:
Travelling on a budget when you’re young isn’t just about saving money — it’s about opening doors to experiences that shape your outlook on life. By Japji Stress in high school is something that any student can feel, regardless of whether they are a freshman or a senior. As a matter of fact, stress is something anyone can go through; it's the human mind's natural response to either temporarily or constantly being faced with situations that they find difficult. This can seriously affect a person's regular behaviour or introduce new habits that aren't exactly beneficial to their body, which is why managing stress, especially while still young, is crucial.
High school is certainly a lot, from the homework piling up at home to the various tests you have to study for. There is pressure, extracurricular activities, and, not to mention, needing some free time for yourself! Oftentimes, this can lead to stress; however, fear not, everything is manageable, so that you can complete everything in time, regardless of how challenging it may seem, and also have time to go out with friends or just relax and take time for yourself! General high school-related stress can be broken down into three categories: homework, grades and extra activities (such as extracurriculars or clubs). Students stress from homework because it's either too hard or takes up too much time, they stress from grades because everyone has personal goals that they want to meet and not meeting them can cause lots of worry, some more than others, and extra activities generally lead to burnout. To prevent this stress from increasing and to completely get rid of it, you should schedule your days. Use Google Docs, Google Sheets, Google Calendar, or Notion to schedule a day or week in your life. Dedicate certain times to certain subjects, depending on when they are due, and follow them strictly. Ensure consistent breaks with no technology, as it can serve as a strong distraction. During these breaks, go for a brisk walk, grab a snack, meditate or utilise that time to organise your room, or put away your laundry. By following this mindset to remain productive and following a strict schedule, you will also remain motivated and get your homework done with more efficiency. You can also place reminders on your phone! Remember, you don't have to do everything in one day! To ensure you also understand what you're learning and get the final grade you aim for, dedicate an hour or two on your less-content-heavy days to re-reading lesson notes, doing practice questions and using online resources such as Khan Academy to help further broaden your understanding. Remember to ask for help from teachers and friends if needed; never shy away because your teachers teach for a reason! Finally, make sure to give yourself time, read a book, play an instrument, do your skincare, go out with friends and try something new. As a freshman in high school, I greatly underestimated how hard it would be! I was constantly procrastinating and had no time management skills at all because middle school had been pretty easy for me. I was also always stressing about joining the right clubs, and making the best portfolio and getting grades higher than ever before and managing a million different hobbies like playing my guitar, reading, and writing for fun, not to mention the hundreds of newer hobbies I wanted to try! Everything seemed so hard, and it seemed like too much for me! I wanted to learn how to code because I had joined a coding club and was bad at it. I wanted to better my understanding of political news and how the stock market works. I wanted to educate myself on so many other areas to the point it became unrealistically extensive. To manage, I created a priority list. This is a list of everything I want to accomplish this academic school year. Think of it like New Year's resolutions. I wrote what I needed to prioritise first, what my goal grades were, what I needed to do every day, what I had to do every other day, what new things I was looking into, and how much time I would spend on certain clubs a week. After creating this list, I would always refer back to it, and it really allowed me to stay on track and schedule accordingly. In essence, regardless of how hard your life may be, it’s always important to remember that there is always a solution, sometimes you need to plan that solution out, sometimes you need to put in more effort or sometimes, you just need to take a break. Look for what works for you best and don’t be afraid to try new things because that will help you advance in whatever way is meant to be for you. Follow your own passion and it will lead to your purpose. By Diana Some people love reading and can easily pick up a book and get lost in it, while others might not enjoy reading as much. For me, reading was always an activity I loved, and I adore finding the next book to read. I have spent countless hours in libraries and bookstores, browsing shelves and picking out books from various genres: non-fiction, fiction, sci-fi, graphic novels, biographies, and more. It may seem daunting to find a book to read, especially if you do not know what you specifically like, but you should not hesitate to explore.
Most individuals have had books assigned to read at school, but it is always beneficial to learn how to find one based on your interests. There are multiple ways of going about finding a book to read: asking friends and family for recommendations, searching up books that are currently popular, asking a librarian, or simply by genre. All of these methods are acceptable when looking for the perfect book to read. Another good idea is to look back and reflect on which books you enjoyed reading more than others. Once you realize what you like or dislike, you will be that much closer to finding a book to read. As this year has progressed, I realized that I have not been reading as much as I would have liked to. When I wanted to read, I had difficulty discovering books that interested me, but I was fortunate enough to find a way to find books that interested me. The book that I am currently reading, I discovered through my Health Psychology class. My professor assigned us a chapter to read, and after reading the assigned chapter, I found the book interesting because of the content covered in it. Although I found a book to read through my class, I also had luck finding books through websites such as Barnes & Noble - by viewing different categories sorted by either genre or popularity. Based on the title and cover of the book, I click on it and read the description. Although everyone has their own opinions regarding books, I like reading reviews written by people who have read the books that interest me before buying or checking that book out from my local library. Recently, I had a friend tell me that she was having trouble picking a book to read. For her, most books she picked up did not interest her to a point where she genuinely wanted to read more. I told her that maybe she was choosing the wrong books to read. If she has a desire to read, she should pick a book that covers topics she is interested in. After probing her mind with questions, we have come to the conclusion that subjects such as fashion, cooking, and health peak her interests. Afterward, finding books that she was intrigued by was both easy and enjoyable. People are different, and what each person enjoys reading also differs. For those who have been reading for as long as they can remember, finding a book to read may not be a difficult task in comparison to someone who wants to begin reading and is unsure of their preferences. In this case, it is important to know that there are many books to choose from that cover a variety of topics and span many genres, that you are bound to find at least a few books that you will enjoy. Narrowing down the topics that interest you, and seeking recommendations from individuals who have read books and have a lot of knowledge of books can simplify your search. Keep an open mind and an open eye - you never know what books you will find yourself enjoying. By Ali Growing up with a sociopathic mother and an absent father was detrimental to me. Combine this with being both a bystander and witness of abuse, being bullied at school, and dealing with the state of confusion I was constantly left in, and I was bound to be in rough shape.
Nowadays, I suffer from Borderline Personality Disorder, Obsessive-Compulsive Personality Disorder, Dissociative Amnesia, and Complex Childhood Trauma. I have disordered eating from my mother feeding me sweets constantly so that when she would make me step on the scale at the doctor’s office, the number displayed would be higher than hers. I was medically and emotionally neglected, and have a phobia of alcohol since my parents abused it. I’m forced to tolerate the aftermath of their actions, and this is something I have yet to fully come to terms with. As much as I love my mom, she played a major role in my destruction. She isolated me from family and friends in order to gain full control over me. She also ignored the early signs of mental illness, triggers my psychosis on purpose, and encouraged my suicidality. She allowed me to be locked in a bedroom by her boyfriend all day while she worked and never listened to me when I told her what was happening. She raised me to not have emotions, and because I’m not sociopathic, that isn’t possible. She played no role in my G1, my first tax form, or my university applications and acceptances. Even when I was hospitalized back in January for suicide, her biggest concern was me being laid off from work. These events, among others, have broken my heart. In early childhood education, they teach you about ‘Nature vs Nurture’ and tell you how parents are supposed to be, but they never discuss the impacts of abuse. Nor do they act upon the signs. Regardless of the bad she has done, I suffer from severe separation anxiety. As a kid, I cried every time she’d go to work, stayed up until 4am wondering when she’d be home, and constantly begged for her attention. I couldn’t bring myself to sleep anywhere else other than her bed, and she chose to get angry at me for my clinginess. Even though I'm 19, I still struggle with this anxiety. The number of times I have broken out into tears during intense emotional stress and begged for my mother are uncountable. She’s all I want, even though she has made it clear that she wants nothing to do with me unless I’m doing something she told me to. These days, my mom and I barely see each other, and my father remains absent. There have been many days when I wished I was an orphan, and it really feels like that’s what I am. But while my upbringing gave me some permanent weaknesses, it also gifted me with some beautiful strengths that the average person doesn’t hold. I have devoted this past year to hundreds of hours of volunteering in efforts to better the lives of those around me. I have done crisis responding, fed the homeless, wrote articles about my life experiences to help those in situations similar to mine, raised money for mental health research, advocated for children in abused homes, and played a ‘big sister’ role for children from across the globe. The goal of this work is to make the world what I always wished it was, and be for others what I prayed to have in my life. I am everything my mom didn’t want me to be. I am empathetic. I am understanding. I am patient. I am loving. And I want to bring hope into the world for those who feel like suicide is their only escape. For this, I am proud to say that I’m successfully recovering from the trauma. If you’ll take one thing from my story, have it be this: Biology and Psychology are two different concepts. Though you are biologically related to your parents, you’re not obligated to call them anything more than your biological parents. You have the power to surround yourself with people - whether it be an individual or a large group - who love you for you, and help you be your best. Having parents who aren’t there, or who have chosen to harm you, isn’t a death sentence. I promise you’ll get through this, and I am proof of just that. If you or someone you know is suffering from parental abuse of any kind, I have linked a list of Child Abuse Hotlines based on your geographic location: https://thinkchildsafe.org/report/ (Click ‘+’ on your continent and locate your country). |
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Teenagers With Experience is an online organisation created to provide teenagers worldwide with an online platform to share their own experiences to be able to help, inform and educate others on a variety of different topics. We aim to provide a safe space to all young people.
Please note that the content on this website is created by teenagers. While we strive to provide accurate and helpful information, it is important to remember that we are not professional experts. If you are experiencing a crisis or need professional advice, please reach out to a qualified mental health professional or a helpline. |