THOUGHTS FROM CHAOS: EDITION II
TABLE OF CONTENTS
Nithya Janapti
ArtUntitled, Nithya Janapti Carmen, Payton Kuska Untitled, Shreeya More Quiescent May, Laura Yang Dream of Dawn, Laura Yang Diantha, Tanya Basak Untitled, Esha Macha Mountains, Anika Dwivedi Untitled, Shweta Shah summer sunsets, Shweta Shah Untitled, Esha Macha lake days, Shweta Shah reminisce, Aida Guo Orca Mosaic, Shweta Shah Untitled, Laura Yang Dances of War, Jake Juliano Night in the Clouds, Sophia Landry Holding on to the Galaxy, Sanjana Gupta West Coast Waters, Avery Dillie Daisy, Isabella Hinz lately, Aida Guo Mama, Sophia Landry Good Morning, Sophia Landry Drama Llama, Sophia Landry A Mother's Bond, Jaya Nadella Red Fish Blue Fish, Sophia Landry American Girl Doll Clothing, Carly Barello |
Poetry/ProseTears of a Willow Tree, Abby Lu twelve hours, Liane Ma 2020, Lia Hodges Procrastinating Productivity, Jake Juliano Mono, Aida Guo Strict Parent Things, Milla Grabowski t i m e, Liane Ma isn't it lonely?, Aida Guo later..., Aida Guo she, Aida Guo 
"Carmen",
Payton Kustka |
Tears of a Willow Tree
By Abby Lu
|
She forced herself to stop after she stumbled over an unseen tree root for the third time. Panting, she bent over, trying to catch her breath. Tradition, she sneered to herself. What a lousy concept. Her resentment for her deceased ancestors grew. What girl in modern times would want to grow up to be married off to a complete stranger? What girl in modern times spent their days dreaming about arranged marriage? What girl in modern times aspired to be a housewife?
That’s what was expected of her, anyway. She stood straight again, glaring around at the ominous trees as the wind whispered through the leaves, swirling around her dark hair. Her breathing had calmed, and she glanced forwards to see the small treehouse at the opposite end of the clearing. Yes. That was what she had come for. When she was small, her father had built her this treehouse on the single oak tree amongst the abundance of willow trees surrounding the clearing. It’s your getaway, he’d told her. You will always be safe here. This is where you can dream. She remembered laughing with her mother over Pride and Prejudice and downing glasses of chilled lemonade with her father sitting right here at the base of the tree, all those years ago. Times had changed. Her mother had fallen ill and passed far too soon, and her father had retreated into himself. A shell of a man, the townsfolk called him. He began to despise any shows of affection and love, and his face was permanently shaped into a scowl. He had married out of love, of course. He defied his ancestors and eloped with the woman he had fallen for, and he had come to see her early death as a punishment for his defiance. This, of course, explained her father’s determination to marry his daughter off - to follow in his ancestors’ footsteps and escape the wrath of fate. |
Shreeya More
|
She grabbed hold of the rope ladder leading up to the treehouse and pulled herself into the treehouse, watching almost observationally as her ink stained hands stabilized her body securely in the small building. Glancing around, she saw the familiar stacks of books and makeshift pen holders made of old empty water bottles, a flute case balanced precariously on top of the organized mess. She weaved her way through to the very back, where a small wooden desk sat. It was the one clear surface in the entire tree house, with only a box of matches and a small candle in the corner.
She felt her anger ebbing away as she soaked in her safe space - replacing it was the deepest sadness, a grief for the life she thought she could have had. She picked up a pile of papers that sat on the floor next to the desk - a stack of her short stories, her passionate thoughts, her dreams and aspirations. Sinking to
the ground, she fingered through each sheet lovingly, rereading her most prized writings. Looking back, she laughed at how oblivious she had been. She had dared to dream, dared to wish for a life that was just out of her reach.
In the blink of an eye, she was over at the window of the treehouse, the stack of papers in one hand and a lit match in the other. As the papers trailed out of the window one after the other, half ablaze, half ash, she said her final goodbye to the sole tether that offered her an escape out of the realities of this harsh world - subconsciously also letting go of the last shreds of hope she had clung onto for so many years - a hope for understanding, for acceptance, for any sort of potential.
As the final strains of light from the flames flickered out, the whirling wind of a rising storm threw the fallen leaves into the air, and the girl cried with the weeping willows weighted down with the heaviness of rain, heartbreak, and the loss of a million dreams and ambitions that were crushed under the sharp
reality that had been blurred by naivety.
twelve hours
By Liane Ma
Quiescent May,
Laura Yang 
Dream of Dawn,
Laura Yang |
7:00: alarm sounds. void of glasses, I splash my face with what I hope is productivity but really is just plain water.
8:00: trying to study. starting the rough draft is always harder than finishing the final, and attempting to begin the day is worse. 8:30: first class. more or less awake, with words floating around my brain. copying it down is easy, learning is not. 9:01: breakfast! milk tea and buns, thank you, for giving me spirit to continue. 9:46: the little red button at the bottom of the screen beckons me. 10:00: and so it goes. smiling, weary faces mirror my own in 144 pixels as the forty-seven of us join the kahoot. 10:57: i stretch after reluctantly leaving the meeting. apparently you can stretch your stress away. 1:00: i think eating is positive and negative. positive because my energy level seems to grow tenfold, but negative since my body wants to put all that energy to sleep. 2:13: we pick up rackets and head outside into the backyard with clearer air, full sun and chirping all around us. 3:02: checking the news is important, but heartbreaking. headlines shouting at us in bold black about healthcare workers on the front lines, self-quarantine, and soaring numbers. 3:04: temporary joy comes in the relief of snacking. true joy comes in the form of comfortable silence on facetime. 6:17: sometimes, i just want to lay on my bed and sleep until the sun sets again. 7:00: and so the day ends in food, ready to begin again in the next twelve hours in quarantine. |
2020
By Lia Hodges
|
Welcome to 2020,
We’re glad you’re here, But if you came for a good time, You better find a new year, Everyday something different, Another tragedy in the news, We try to hold it together, But somethings bound to light the fuse, The climate keeps on changing, And no one seems to care, But if Ellen makes a rude remark, The whole world is aware, In January, Australia began to burn, In February, Relations between the U.S. and Iraq took a turn In March, The stock market crashed, And all the while, Covid ensured having fun was in the past, 
Mountains,
Anika Dwivedi |
Esha Macha
The world mourned, For all people who are a victim, Of police brutality, Lives lost because of a corrupt system, Everyone tried to find a silver lining, Finding hobbies to pass the time, But it's hard to enjoy yourself, When going to stores feels like a crime, Welcome to 2020, We are only halfway there, Feel free to press the skip button, To the end of the year |
Procrastinating Productivity
By Jake Juliano
Shweta Shah
As long as it’s for school or work or something to make money I’m being productive As long as it’s exercise or skin care or mental care it’s being productive As long as we’re doing “something” But what about when we are doing something But it’s just not something “productive” The things we do to procrastinate We only procrastinate to put off “productivity” But productivity is considered worthy But worth is only where people place value So if so many people value their time scrolling through social media Or staying up late talking with their friends Then what is true productivity What is productivity other than to make our lives better? What is productivity other than making our lives worse? Learning is essential, but is homework? Learning is essential, but is classwork? Working is essential, but is overtime? Working is essential, but is any time? 
Esha Macha
If I disengage in class or at work Then is that really somewhere worth being? Is that really productivity? If my brain is telling me to do something else? Is my subconscious or conscious more correct? My subconscious knows what it wants for me But my conscious knows what it wants for you Procrastination is just delaying being productive But if we procrastinate so much Then what is true productivity Is procrastination putting off productivity Or is productivity putting off procrastination If I value my time elsewhere Then why does your opinion matter more than my own Isn’t it my life after all? Do I deserve punishment for valuing my time with health And happiness And pleasure And friends and family and free time? Do I deserve reward for valuing my time with something my body constantly rejects? Who’s to say what’s more valuable? You? Or me? It is my life after all But I need you for money For the currency of life So until you value something my body finds productive Then I guess I’ll forever continue to procrastinate Procrastinate being productive Productively procrastinate |
The deceit of productivity
The illusion of value The misconception of worth The lie of time well spent We spend so much time working Learning Studying Producing But for what? We don’t even care for this output We only do it for the money Unless of course you’re in it for the friends But no one is free of productive deception These things we see as valuable Does it create money? Yes Does it create happiness? No Does it create a prosperous future? Yes Does it create a good future? 🤷♂️ We give up time in the name of productivity We give up friends and family Pleasure and leisure Sleep and health and well-being Happiness and sanity But for what? 
summer sunsets,
Shweta Shah Money is not value Except for that it is Money does not determine our value Except for that we see it to If I’m watching YouTube instead of doing a project Am I being productive? What if I’m watching educational YouTube? What if that project has no value to me? What if that project has no value to my education or paycheck? Am I procrastinating by watching YouTube? Or am I procrastinating by being productive? What if I’m writing music instead of memorizing facts or sleeping through meetings? What if writing music is what I value? What if writing music can make me money later on? What if being “productive” has no value to me? Am I procrastinating or being productive? What if I’m sleeping? Sleep is healthy, right? What if it means I don’t finish an assignment? Is that healthy? What if it means I don’t do the laundry? Is that healthy? The assignment and the laundry are both productive, but doing the laundry doesn’t bring in the money 
lake days,
Shweta Shah |
Mono
By Aida Guo
|
Eyes -
I have two But people tell me i have less. Why? Well, Apparently it doesn’t crease like other people’s. When i follow tanya burr’s eyeliner tutorial It never seems to work. How come? The eyeliner disappears. What? Mono lids. Huh? One lid per eye. Ok? That’s why people think im ugly. What does that have to do with anything? “All-American” girls like big eyes. Monolids usually make them smaller. Homecoming queens usually click on the first recommended video, Their lashes curl up, stay close to each other, That’s how we drew the princess’s eye in art class. Mine don’t do that. That sucks, I’m sorry. No. What? It doesn’t suck, It’s great, actually. Oh? It makes me beautiful. |
reminisce,
Aida Guo |
Strict Parent Things
By Milla Grabowski
Orca Mosaic,
Shweta Shah |
The whole point of life
Is that it ends. So you have to live. Find joy in the little things Make everyday like it’s your last I know that’s the point of all this I’ve known from a young age I want to blast my favorite music while skating towards the sunset I want to dye my hair just to be able to laugh at it I want to run to the gas station for my first slurpee and get a brain freeze I want to bike ride in the wind forever, and not know where my wheels will take me But, my mom said no. Sorry, I’m not allowed to dance in the rain. Sorry, I can’t hang out with you. Sorry. |
t i m e
By Liane Ma
everyday the days seem to blur faster together; first walking, then jogging, then sprinting away as if the present is too scary to be around.
set a routine they tell you, not so you can have something to quench the thirst of boredom but so there can be some semblance of what life used to be outside of this quarantine.
quar·an·tine
/ˈkwôrənˌtēn/
noun
in this case it is all of the above, a state, period and place of isolation for ourselves that leads to a little bit of loneliness and a lot of deep reflection.
the seconds tick by and i am aware, but i don’t know what day the seconds are a part of. what’s the date? who knows?
scrapped schedules and half-used agendas lie in the corner of a room for many of us, our minds thinking about how we never got to use our planners to cover up confusion.
time flies by on horseback now.
set a routine they tell you, not so you can have something to quench the thirst of boredom but so there can be some semblance of what life used to be outside of this quarantine.
quar·an·tine
/ˈkwôrənˌtēn/
noun
- a state, period, or place of isolation in which people or animals that have arrived from elsewhere or been exposed to infectious or contagious disease are placed.
in this case it is all of the above, a state, period and place of isolation for ourselves that leads to a little bit of loneliness and a lot of deep reflection.
the seconds tick by and i am aware, but i don’t know what day the seconds are a part of. what’s the date? who knows?
scrapped schedules and half-used agendas lie in the corner of a room for many of us, our minds thinking about how we never got to use our planners to cover up confusion.
time flies by on horseback now.
Laura Yang
isn't it lonely?
By Aida Guo
|
Isn’t it lonely?
Watching the people pass by As they sing As they cry As they laugh And they die. Isn’t it lonely? Watching the birds sing their songs? Hearing the trees just swaying along? Isn’t it lonely? Seeing the moon cuddling the stars? Imagining the world from a place so far? Isn’t it lonely? Watching the people pass by? Knowing the world will always be too shy? Isn’t it lonely? |
Holding on to the Galaxy,
Sanjana Gupta |
later...
By Aida Guo
Daisy,
Isabella Hinz |
I’ll text you later
I just have to take a three hour nap By accident first Then cry about it once i get up Guiltily take a shower again to wake myself up I’ll avoid my phone because i dont want to feel guilty Then ill do some work Not feel any better Eat dinner grumpily with my mom, Pretending i didn’t waste my day, Come back upstairs to lie in bed, Look at my phone, Ill text ya later. |
lately,
Aida Guo |
American Girl Doll Clothing
Carly Barello
Thoughts From Chaos
Green Level Literary Magazine
Summer 2020
|
|
