An Unanswered Cry for Help

Note: I wrote this during the Fall of my 8th grade year. This won a national competition.


I heard the door creak open as I worked on my assignment. Looking up, I saw Charlie with a new kid. Our teacher had said we were getting a new student. She was a bit nervous as the adults interchanged words. “Hello, I’m Mrs. Recio, why don’t you introduce yourself?” My teacher said kindly as she shook the students hand.


What happened next shocked me.


The student’s voice was bold. She wasn’t scared of being new, she seemed… proud? Her voice controlled the vocals shaping her words like delicate clay. She resembles a teacher in her stance, her voice, and her strong, agile footsteps as she takes her seat.

Her introduction may have been strong, but strength often fades to weakness. I noticed the tension around her. A blade could feel the thickness of the air. The tremble of her hand as she listened to the world around her. A soft breath of air could shatter the globe she lived in.


Her poetic writing brought sorrow and gloom to her new teachers. What happened over the summer while I was away? The faded gray traced delicate designs on bleached paper. Designs of hatred, evil, war, and more.


The year aged. I saw her slip on the ice in her mind. A mind full of creativity and growth that was locked behind by a stronger force. The tremble of her hand a constant reminder of her fear. She’s running away from everything, but a force beyond control brings her back.


Why don’t I help her?


I can’t. She’s beyond help that she can ask for. I want to help her. I’m the voice trapped inside her mind. Yes, I am the girl. The strong voice that faded into a dark hole of despair. I begged for help, of course, the ‘smart’ and ‘intelligent’ girl couldn’t need help. She’s “too good” for depression. “Too good” for anxiety.


Was she really “too good” for it now?


I feel the burning embers of a fire deep in my heart. The perfect glass globe that has shattered onto the floor. Icy blood meanders through my body like a jellied river.


Lost tears never dance down the pale skin of my face. Pale wrists never see the crimson red that many others face. Dark brown strands of hair never feel the delicate designs of braids.


A mind lost of hope. Swimming through wave after wave of emotions. Anger, sadness, fear, anxiety, and more hit one after the other. Day after day of torment and war inside my own mind break me down to ash on the ground.


Black and White


Black and white

Two opposites

Two colors

But really are they colors?


One absorbs all light

One reflects all light

One is dark

One is light


Some people see

Only these two shades

Others see all

Reds, blues, and more


Imagine only seeing

Black and white

And all shades between


No bright colors

No dullen colors

Just black

And white


You can see the

Truth behind a pigment

How dull or how bright

Maybe the color tells a tale


Black and white…

Black and white…

Black and white…

~Alexandria Lutinski 12/8/16


Even though I see all colors, I can’t feel them. The brightest blues to the darkest greens. Colors show me that the world is much brighter than I am. It’s a forsaken curse that the world has given me.


Being a bisexual teenager has been a nightmare. My parents are accepting, but my grandmother has tried “Praying the Gay Away!” I’m terrified of what my aunt will say. She’s heavily Christian and doesn’t like gays or bisexual people. Why do people purposefully hurt others just because they don’t believe it’s right? It’s not right and goes against helping people.


So I continue my life. The outcast, bisexual teenager who just wanted to have a normal life. The life many others get to live every day. In a world of new music, style, and design. Sometimes the smartest need the most help. Try to help others around you next time.

1 Comment
  1. transkai09 1 year ago

    This is really fuckin good! And it was posted on my birthday!

    0 kudos

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