Labels Cause War

Equality. It’s the word of the century, something we are a species are constantly working towards, and yet I can’t help but notice how backwards we seem to be going sometimes. In my short time on this earth, I have experienced the growth of the internet and social media, and witnessed the effects it has had on society. With people being able to more easily find and connect with others like them, I’ve noticed an increase in the number of labels people use to identify themselves. Gay, straight, bisexual, transgender, religious, atheist, vegan, meat eater, rich, poor, democrat, liberal, republican, white, black… the list goes on and on. Not only do these labels exist, and more continue to pop up; but people are talking about them more and boxing themselves into categories. I wouldn’t be surprised if in 10 years, online dating profiles required people to tick the boxes of all the labels they identify with. Humans have a biological desire to belong. It’s in our nature, and historically speaking, sticking together with people similar to ourselves increased our chance of survival. But we’re not living in those times anymore. In this day and age, you’d think we’d be evolved enough to put aside each others differences and unify ourselves as a species. Whether it’s race, religion, sexuality or something else entirely, people continue to label themselves, and in doing so, are furthering the segregation that we’re trying to end. Labels cause war. I understand the need people have to find a sense of identity and belonging in a world of differences, but isn’t it enough to simply call ourselves human?

-S

 

 

 

 

Death

Today I held a dove as it died in my arms. It was the first time I’ve ever witnessed the moment when life suddenly isn’t there anymore, and it horrified me. For fifteen minutes, I cradled the stunned dove that had been attacked by magpies, its wide eyes staring at nothing, its little body trembling in my hands. After trying to fly, he fell to the floor and died seconds later. It was a seizure, from shock my mother told me. It wasn’t peaceful like everyone claims death to be. It was violent and awful; the sight of a little heart giving its final few beats, a feathered body convulsing with the end of life. I was devastated. He was supposed to fly into the sunset a few hours later, but instead was lying limp on my living room floor. I’ve always hated death; the knowledge that eventually, everything must die. When I was a child, I remember saving insects from spiders webs, untangling them from their silk prisons and setting them free. To my dismay, I was informed that in doing so, I was potentially endangering the life of the spider instead. This is when I realised that life is cruel. But still, I tried my hardest to make sure every creature had a chance. I’d save the insects, rush to the windowsill, gather the dead flies that lay there and rush back to spider, carefully placing them in the delicate web. All the spiders in my house probably hated me. If I was served month-old roadkill instead of a steak, I’d probably hate me too. As the years passed, I learned to accept that I can’t save everything, but today – holding the dove that I’d bonded with for a few short moments – and watching it move on from this world… well, I guess it was just a harsh reminder that life can be swept out from underneath us at any moment. How depressing.

-S

 

My Mind at Night

I have insomnia. Sometimes my mind insists on keeping me awake even when my body screams for sleep, and I have no choice but to let it. Drawing helps me put things into perspective and halts the progression of my negative thoughts before they pull me deeper into the dark, bottomless pit that I dig myself. This drawing took several months to complete, because I worked on it only when I was feeling anxious, mostly at nighttime. Charcoal isn’t my preferred medium as I’m a perfectionist and end up covered in it, but I felt it worked best to convey the emotions I was trying to express. I’m grateful to have things I can do that silence my mind – I know that not everyone does.

-S

I See the Milky Way

Looking into a mirror, she peels off her skin and puts it on inside out. The air assaults her exposed flesh, stinging the parts of her she’s stared at for too long. Her eyes draw constellations across her skin, connecting one flaw to another as if she’s a galaxy with a black hole at its center. It swallows stars and spews out asteroids, choking her with darkness. Being blind makes it nearly impossible for her to see what makes her beautiful.

When she sees nothing but black, I see the milky way.

-S