annika la vina
23 year-old writer, artist, and creative. i survived because the fire inside me burned brighter than the fire around me.
You're laughter and joy and every gift and every toy that I've loved and I've lost but I loved way too much so I found them again. And you're the sun and the stars and Saturn and Mars and Venus and Neptune and even Earth too. And with all of life's struggles your soft morning snuggles are heaven and everything else left in between. And if things just get worse and not better, I'm happy that one day you lent me your sweater and I got to imagine and think of for real how comfy and cozy and fuzzy you'd feel when you're doing the things that you do looking cute. And people love silver and people love gold and people apparently love doing what they're told but i love the perfectly imperfect jokes that you tell and the way that you smell and the love that you give and the life that we live. And now I recognize beauty in the birds and the bees because beauty is simple and warming and free, and the world can be hurtful and scary indeed but the meaning of life is hearing you snore next to me and even if there's lots more beaches and mountains to see, together is always the best place to be.
There weren’t always dragons in the Valley. Before, dragons had roamed the stars, slinking their long tails around celestial planets and galaxies. Comets were said to have emerged from a dragon’s mighty roar, pulverizing rock planets and transforming them into miraculous gas giants. They left swirls of star dust in their wake, creating entangling constellations in the night sky.
Click. Click. Click. “OK, Wyatt is done. Tanya, bring in Jeremy for me, would you? He needs a little tuning up, I think.” Dr. Oswald says, closing Wyatt’s electrical outlet and motioning him out of the room. Wyatt’s head props up and his eyes open wide, and you can hear the gears in his legs move as he walks out of the doctor’s office.
He held two pills in his hands, one blue and one red. He sat in the arm chair, adjusted his glasses, and cleared his throat before fixing his gaze on the woman in front of him. She had no idea what was going on, or why he was putting these two options in front of her- but she sat patiently, waiting for him to speak, hands interwoven neatly on top of her crossed legs. She nodded so as to let him know he could start talking.
She gripped his fingers tighter and closed her eyes shut. She could feel the forceful wind beating into her backside, each gust growing more and more powerful with each second. Her eyes started to water, and she could feel the wind rip her tears off her porcelain face, like they were mere droplets joining the current of a much larger river.
Scissors and a Funeral
[Maggie and Charlie reunite after years without seeing each other, brought together by the death of their mother. Both are successful but have a very tense and strained relationship after their father left them as teenagers. Charlie soon went off to college and Maggie felt left behind]
The lights flicker on and off. The bed is cold. Everything is dark. "Do you think there is a God?" June asks. June is 55 and schizophrenic. Is she talking to you or to the wall? Maybe she's talking to the invisible man she senses watching over her. Maybe she's talking to the dog that she thinks is there. It's your first night here, and June has already screamed 4 times, banged on the bed frame twice, and cried into her blanket once. You turn your head over and you're surprised to see her sunken black eyes staring into yours.
I used to think that I was going to become an astronaut. Space had always amazed me, and I imagined touching the stars with my fingertips. I used to think that I would float in space, discovering black holes, different galaxies, exceptional universes- I was determined to see the only thing that I didn’t have access to.
Be Kind to People: Untangling Years of Narcissistic Violence and Abuse
It’s no secret that society is riddled with a plethora of problems, struggles, and injustices. No quick fix can solve everything, and one person can’t save everyone. I reckon that’s the appeal of Marvel movie superheroes- other than the distressing shock that comes with seeing an enormous green hulk smashing buildings all over the city (if Superman accidentally yet heroically smashes your car, who pays for the insurance??), superheroes serve as a release. Iron Man is another fantastical escape that can serve as a momentary hit of ecstasy- how amazing would it be if someone were to come into our lives and pull us out of the mud? Superheroes are everywhere, and they don’t just look like 6’3” white men in Supermen unitards. They look like presidents, religious saviors, significant others, etc. Like a god or goddess, we place figures on a pedestal to avoid facing the possibility that maybe there is no set plan, no universal decree, and no higher power present to dictate the direction of our journey. It’s sometimes scarier to admit to ourselves that we alone have complete and total freedom as to how to structure our life. The power of choice can conquer the power of freedom- with great power comes great responsibility, and is the majority of the planet mature enough to handle the blessing of responsibility?