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Quiet. That was it. It was Quiet. Laying on the soft grass side by side was all they needed. They didn't need anybody else, not their parents, not their siblings or friends. All they needed was each other even if no words were exchanged. The peaceful lulling sound of the nature around them was enough noise for them.Honestly, noise was overrated. There was no need for constant noise. Sometimes the sound of silence was enough, and that's what those girls all by themselves on the cushioning green grass with the sunsetting all around them needed. Silence. Sometimes silence can speak louder than words ever could, for instance right now these young teen girls don't need to verbally say “I love you” they could just lay there in each other's embrace watching the world change in front of their eyes in silence and those words were all they needed.It's quite similar to how animals express themselves to us. For example when a cat or dog is upset or angry at you they scratch or bite. When a cat or dog is happy and wants to show attention to their owner or another animal they rub up against them and or lick or lay with them, similar to how those girls are laying and just enjoying the moment together.The sunset that they seemed to be so mesmerized by had beautiful shades of orange, red, pink and purple. It was a beautiful sight, no wonder they chose the spot they are now relaxing at.They have been laying there for hours on end not a single word spoken, the warm summer air swirling around them and the birds singing It was so peaceful. It was moments like these that would forever stay a memory in both of their amazing minds. It was memories like these that they would tell their future children.People are always talking about how they visited all the great man made wonders of the world but sometimes the best man made wonders are the places no one sees. Like a special spot in a forest somewhere where there is a small gap in the trees where the moon shines through or its a place on the grass where you spent hours sunset watching and stargazing with your lover, sometimes those are the best man made memories.And that's what they did. They made their own man made memories like I like to call it.They did eventually leave but that did not mean that the memory making ends no memory making is constant, even a walk down a deserted, quiet street with only the street lights and the warmth of the other to keep them company it wasn't as scary as I made it seem but it was soothing. The barley lit street with each other's warmth was all they needed. They didn't a blanket or hand warmers because one hands are natural hand warmers and because all they needed was each other to keep them warm. Even the little kiss goodnight when they reach one of their houses promising to see them the next day and finishing with an I love you because all they needed were some kind words so they could fall into a deep sleep.The morning strolls through the park only to end up sitting on a bench feeding the birds was only one of the things they did after that night. They took those night gazing nights they took the sunset watching in the grass they took those little walks in the street, they took those little goodbyes each night and each and every one of those memories were stored.All they needed were those tiny memories that may seem useless and unnecessary to anyone else but them. It didn't matter to them if people thought that about their memories it was theirs to make and theirs to look back at.All they needed were to keep to themselves and those who had opinions that did not matter to stay away and do what they wanted with their lives.These memories were precious to them and all they needed was to keep them forever and continue making more.That's what they did. They made much more memories never needing to stop because who would want to stop making memories? They went skating, went to the zoo.They did things that they would have never done before they met teacher but now that they have all they needed was each other to conquer their fears and one by one the did so many unique things things even I the narrator wouldn't even dream of doing, but they did it together and nothing could stop them day and night they conquered and dreamed all of it .They took over the world just the two of them and nothing could separate them, not even an earth ending event. All they needed was each other to help them out of their shells that they had built to stop the world from breaking them but now they have each other to fight back the problematic world. All they needed was each other to stop the judgy people, the strange looks, the global warming all of the wrong things that have tried to bring them down individually now have no chance against them together for they are ten times stronger together even without words even with people trying to break them down but even with all that going on. All they needed was each other. Please Enjoy! Art by me

I was lying in the grass half naked, cold, and confused. I looked up at the stars shining as I felt the tears burning my face as they went down my cheek. I heard his car door slam and the tires screeching as he left. One day, I was outside my aunts house scrolling through facebook and a friend request popped up. We'll call him John. I was confused because we had so many mutual friends so I accepted, not thinking too much about it. He texted me and we became friends. Later, we became good friends. He would call me to see how I was doing and talk to me. He was really sweet and very friendly He flirted with me a lot but I just brushed it off. John told me he was 16; I was 14 at the time. We had planned to meet up after a few weeks. I remembered when I first met him he was so nice and funny; his hugs were so soft and warm. One summer night he called me telling me he really needed to see me at 3am, to talk. It was warm, I could feel how humid it was, how it made my skin sticky. I walked outside, across the damp grass with no shoes. I felt the droplets in between my toes as I walked to his car. He got out of his car and he came up to me. I smelled the cologne he had on and the alcohol he tried to hide with minty gum. He kissed me. I didn't feel the same. I pushed him off. He forced me to kiss him. I tasted the gum and alcohol, but that's not the only thing I tasted. I tasted regret. “Get off of me!” I said. “You teased me up to this point so take it.” John said. He closed my mouth as I tried to call for help. I felt his warm hands but cold fingertips gripping my arm. I felt him crawl over my body as he forced himself inside me. I felt so betrayed. “Stop, stop, stop!” I said. “Take it!” John said. “It hurts. Please stop.” “Stop crying and shut up.” I was frozen after. No facial expression just emptiness. It only lasted 15 minutes but it felt like a lifetime. It was quiet, only the crickets and owls could be heard. I walked up my porch and was stuck. I stayed silent, I didn't want anyone to know. I found out it was many more victims. I didn't want to hear, “Are you okay?” Later on I spoke about it to a few people. I also spoke to John after. I forgave him. Why? I learned to forgive but never forget. He did the worst thing to a person before murder. I found out he was 19 not 16. Yes I was raped. He is now in jail but will be out soon. I do not let this identify me. I learned that no matter how good someone can be to you they can betray you. It impacted my life because it made me have trust issues with everyone. I try to work on myself. But now I know not to trust too fast and too hard.

I was born aboard a roaring C130 over the airspace of the Caspian Sea. This was pre-9/11, so modern air travel rules on pregnancy didn't apply. My mother, petite and unassuming, escaped scrutiny with her tent-like dress. For some reason, the Air Force allowed her to accompany my father on assignment. Perhaps it was our Italian-sounding surname. Somehow, it was a passport to inaccessible areas. My mother's screams at childbirth upstaged the din of the C130's engines. This, together with my caterwauling, formed the backdrop of my entry into existence. Perhaps this was why I despised any sound above a certain decibel. Whenever I complained of loudness, regardless of the source, my mother would remind me of how I came into the world: “From noise you came, and to noise you will return.” Thus did I return. A life-altering event prompted me to revisit the land of my parents. I thought I'd stay a month, just long enough to tie up loose ends. Alas, offshoots materialized, forcing me to stay. Initially, I was happy to be here, having reconnected with friends and extended family. Now that I'm stuck here, I've ceased discovering pleasant things and have instead focused on annoyances. What I can't understand is the residents' affinity with noise. It's all-encompassing, yet no one seems to notice. Maybe you think I'm inflexible or used to living in fancy, quiet ‘First World' cocoons. But I've visited developing countries. This is, by far, one of the noisiest. Fortunately, my host lives in the suburbs—where I ensconce myself. I knew what this area was like 20 years ago. But it turned into a city. With this new status came progress—along with shopping malls, people, traffic, crime, and pollution. You would expect the noise to proliferate just in the primary city, not in ‘ex-burbs'. But it seemed the generators of noise got tired of subjugating the capital to its malevolence, and turned its sights instead to the formerly peaceful spot where I'm forced to park my hide. It starts with roosters crowing in the morning, followed by dogs barking, people talking/arguing, motorcycle engines rumbling. Late morning brings in blasts of music from amplifiers owned by neighbors dissatisfied with ordinary speakers; they MUST have turbo. Equally virulent is the venom of the traveling boombox in a tricycle. The driver, enamored with his favorite ditty, would crank up the volume for everyone to hear. Thankfully, midday provides a lull in the cacophony. Naptime for noise-mongers. I schedule my most important activities during this period. My rooster friends, however, manage to cackle in. I thought they only crowed at dawn or early mornings. Here, they squawk and scream at all hours. Is there a pattern? Nope. It could be 4 am, noon, or midnight. That blasted crowing would pierce into the darkness or the heat of the sun. Utter disregard for the clock. Why do the locals love roosters so much? Back home, there are zoning laws. You can't raise farm animals in residential areas. They're confined to the countryside and appropriate businesses. I searched for an explanation. Apparently, cockfighting is legal here. Roosters aren't just pets. They're worth a lot of money if successful in the ring. In the evening, reverberation from a microphone would signal in the most vexatious noise of all: karaoke time. Most singers are out of tune. Singing would go on until dawn. Later, the country's leader issued a no-karaoke rule after 10 pm. My sigh of relief was short-lived. People just ignored the law. Friend #1 had a karaoke bar for a neighbor. Singing went beyond curfew. One day, she couldn't take it anymore. Time to see if the law upholds. She called the municipality anonymously, citing the neighbor. The next day, the bar was closed down. Triumph! After listening to one of my tirades, Friend #2 remarked, “Maybe you should live in a cemetery.” She was being mean, of course, but I actually considered living in a mausoleum—a result of attempts to escape the noise. Alas, during my visit to the country's most prestigious memorial park, my ears were assaulted by sounds from lawnmowers, digging machines, and construction. This is one place you won't rest in peace. I thought of moving to the countryside. “Huh-uh. More chickens,” Friend #3 advised. “Why not try a monastery?” So I begged a priest-friend to take me in, offering rent. But he said, in order to live with the religious, you have to join them. Permanently. Yikes! Perhaps it was poverty. Making noise was a way to drive out demons, forget problems. For most of the populace, this was probably true. But these neighbors aren't poor. Theirs is a middle-class enclave. Maybe some people are just inconsiderate. Silence is golden. I still believe that. But I decided to make the ultimate sacrifice: give up the fight. You see, the event that led me here was the death of my mother and brother. Now alone, Father refuses to budge. His enemy is silence, not noise. For him, I will embrace my adversary.

Don't blame yourself. No one sees it at first. She's a fifteen-year-old girl on that frozen park bench, sitting on her hands to keep them from getting just as cold as her nose. Your eyes catch sight of the way her hair is dampened and unkempt. Her clothes are torn, hanging off of her body to reveal the story on her skin that she wished no one would ever read. And her face...it's covered in the grime of the city's malice. Did she fall? No one sees it. Her heart is cracked and bloody. The red consequence that pours from it is becoming frozen in these conditions. If she were to tell you that she is growing cold, you would reply you were too. It is, indeed, time for the leaves to take their last leap from the arms of the near-barren trees. Clouds should soon stop crying and instead begin to throw fistfuls of white during their seasonal temper tantrums. But then she'd take you by surprise. She would correct you and say, “No, from the inside. It isn't the outside world causing frost upon my skin. It's my heart, a glacial virus causing my light to fade out into an eternal darkness.” It's all happening so fast in front of everyone's eyes, and still, no one sees it. She didn't fall as once presumed. She was pushed. No one saw it. You didn't either. Not at first. Not until her heart - which had been freezing since he'd first laid a hand on her - cracked. Not until it made a sound so deafening that no one was able to hear another. It was as if lightening struck the ground directly in front of you, and finally, you stopped to pay attention. You were alert. You were looking around for an answer to the question no one has understood: "Why?" And finally, you had the morality to focus on investigating what lay beneath the silence that had followed the explosion of ice from her heart. You realized that she was alone. No mother. No father. No sibling in sight. When you approached her, feet crunching atop the chunks of ice that had flown from her insides like daggers - warnings to stay away - you saw the dirty tears staining her cheeks. You were left to wonder what had happened. Why was she so cold? Maybe she didn't fall. She didn't just stumble because she was clumsy. She was shoved into the calloused, tainted hands of the world. And now you stand in front of her. She sits still on the bench, staring straight ahead with no life left in her eyes. Your chest is level with her face. She doesn't move. You could tell that whoever this girl was is no longer here. A person once known is now a person someone knew. The tears are taking turns rolling down the flushed, red tinted hills named cheeks, but her face is becalmed. A snowflake fallen from the sky lands on her cheek and turns to ice instead of melting away. In a whisper, you ask her what's wrong. She emotionlessly makes eye contact. Your heart clenches and your stomach drops at the visible vacancy inside of her. “I wandered too far,” she replies. “Mother told me the streets weren't safe. She told me not to cross the bridge...I did. I crossed." She looks away again. "I can't go back.” You ask her why. You offer to walk home with her. She could get cleaned up. All better. She'll be fine tomorrow once she gets a new pair of socks and a warm bath. But she rejects you, pushes you away. She says she knows now that strangers are not to be trusted. She can't cross the bridge. For if she does, she will let the wind push her off. She will beg the breeze to be strong enough to cause the ground to disappear from underneath her. She will hit the ground and fall into a pile of beautiful crushed bones and pain. It sounds beautiful to her, anyway. Don't blame yourself. No one sees it at first. Not even you. Maybe you were distracted or just wished to mind your own business. But if you held the candle a little closer, you could see that what she really yearned for was a hand to hold. She was manhandled. Used. Who she used to be was shattered into a thousand pieces and brushed under the rug for no person to ever see again. If they would just look a little closer, they'd see that she is crying out for help. She is not begging to be looked at. She is not begging for the eyes of those around her. She is begging for someone to pull her up from the top before it's too late. She is screaming for someone to toss the rope down before she's stuck in The Pit forever, all alone as she grows colder and colder from the inside out. All alone until she becomes absolutely nothing.

Sometimes, in search of peace you have to overcome barriers of destruction. What's that saying? Everything happens for a reason? Well, I say every step has a purpose. 2018 was a clumsy year for me. My steps were not synchronized, my direction was unknown, and destruction came to break me. It came to humiliate me, and it came to defile my spirit and weaken me.\n\n On January 14th, 2018, I met destruction in the flesh. It was handsome. It had sex appeal, a pretty smile, and a way with words. I forced myself to be blind to the tormenting and troubled shadow that followed closely behind as destruction made its way into my home. This was unlike me. Young, thinking this was living life on the edge. However, I didn't realize that same edge was one I'd desire nothing more but to jump over...end it all.\n\n One plan B later and a evening I thought I would easily forget turned into a nightmare. I confided in a mutual associate, wondering if she knew him. Her expressions turned from joyous and excited to disgust when she see's his profile picture. She tells me destruction was not well. \\"Never see him again.\\" She pleaded. My heart pounded against my rib cage and all i could remember from that night was turning the lights on to see the condom he had removed in the bed before he spilled his poison inside of me. I was blocked from social media and destruction disappeared. \\"Maybe he does have something to hide\\". I said to myself.\n\n A window period? It was only a week in and I was already making myself sick. The sleepless nights, weight loss, dehydration, depression, and thoughts of suicide became my reality. I felt alone, and I was too afraid to confide in anyone. At the age of 23 I could possibly walk into a clinic and test positive for HIV. Three months passed...negative. Five months, and then six...still negative. For whatever reason destruction tried to make his way back into my life and the anxiety hit me so hard I started to question if the tests were accurate. I'm scared.\n\n Now, its October 3rd, 2018, nine months since my encounter with destruction and my tests are still negative. I can breathe a little better now. I sit in my living room writing this letter thanking God that for whatever reason if destruction was not well my life was spared. I take a deep breath, and now I am at peace.

As an Asian-American, I've always been very in touch with my heritage and culture. This means that I've always felt more comfortable with my Chinese side. Possibly a side-effect from racism I've faced in America, this is something that I not only have tried to hide, but also try to suppress. Maybe it's just because I'm in the middle of my high school career, when people go through a period of growth and mistakes. Maybe it's because I'm scared that I won't grow if I show that I'm different. Maybe it's simply a mistake. The end result is that I have done all I can to suppress my Asian culture and background. Being an art enthusiast, I decided to help out at a children's camp this summer, and foster their appreciation of art through a program I created. My goal was to unite everyone through a universal language. It was during the second class when I saw there was a little girl sitting in the corner of the room, intently watching the other kids making the project for that day—shaving cream greeting cards. She was the only Asian, and I assumed she felt awkward with the other children because of that. I understood how she felt, but I put on a smile and approached the timid girl. “Hi!” I said, “Would you like to make the project for today?” Slowly, she nodded her head, and I led her towards the craft station. As I led her there, I could feel the energy change. The kids shifted away from her slightly, their body language closed and unwelcoming. It was a moment of heartache and bitterness. I felt bitter towards these kids because they treated her like people treated me. I tightened my grip on her hand, because I remember that she began trembling—like a volcano on the verge of erupting…only it couldn't because it knew what would happen to everything below it. I knew, because I had felt that volcano every day I walked into school. Firmly, I pulled her away and said, “Those kids may seem like the whole world to you right now, but I promise that you'll find people that appreciate you for who you are, and they will become your world. Don't let them bring you down, and keep your head held high. Okay?” She smiled, and the trembling seemed to stop. As I saw her jut her chin out and walk past the other kids with her hands swinging wildly at her sides, I couldn't help but smile. I wished that someone could've done that for me when I was her age. Maybe then I wouldn't have turned out so judgmental of myself. Only then did I realize how hypocritical I was. My advice should've stood true not only for her, but for me as well. How could I tell others to have faith in themselves if I couldn't even do that for myself? So, for once in my life, I told my friends what I was really like. I posted on my Instagram about K-pop and how I loved Asian Dramas. The response I got was incredible. I mean—I received the unavoidable negative feedback, but I didn't care. It was because the positive energy outweighed the negatives, and I got so much support for being myself. The one quote I'll stand by today was spoken by Japanese internment camp survivor, Fred Korematsu. “If you have the feeling that something is wrong, don't be afraid to speak up.” I believe that could change so many lives, if we all just speak up.