Call for Submissions: YWS Literary and Art Collection 2024

The Harder We Try

I had always tried so hard to make friends. Tried to learn their inside jokes, laugh with them, hang out with them in public so people knew I was one of the cool kids, not some loner. But the harder I tried the worse I was at finding any people who cared about me as much as I cared to be known by them. It wasn’t always like I was bullied or exiled; many times they were simply indifferent, and that might have been even worse. It made it impossible to ever feel sure if their supposed kindness was genuine friendship, or simply pity for the kid who had nothing to offer but awkward loyalty and a rambling personality.
And that was the kicker. It wasn’t that I didn’t try to be friendly, try to hang out, make jokes, eat out on Friday nights or have sleepovers, it was just that they always happened to be busy. They must’ve led far more interesting high school lives than I did, because they always had something going on. Of course, deep down I knew it was just their “polite” way of saying no. But because they never said it outright it fostered this nasty habit of hoping that just maybe, they really were busy.
So, when I went to summer camp in the hills of the Carolinas, I had no intention of making friends. Parents, counselors, teachers, they all said it was a great place to meet new people and have fun, but that all sounded like futility to me, so I just planned to spend as much time doing the things I couldn’t do at home, eating as much food and candy as I could scarf down, and getting way too little sleep. Putting in effort, trying at all, was off the table.
Maybe that’s why when Taylor walked through the door of our cabin and casually asked if I wanted to go down to the rec hall, I took a moment to respond. I agreed, and then two hours later we were heading to the Canteen to buy way too many Skittles and a couple of cans of Fresca. And for the next five days we hung out all over camp. We talked about our families, our hobbies and schools, and then it was already Saturday and time to part ways.
I always hated goodbyes, whether to aunts and uncles I only saw once in a blue moon, or to my parents and siblings, so I just didn’t plan on saying it when Taylor’s school bus rolled up at the welcome center. I fiddled my fingers and looked all around, hoping he would just vanish, and I would be back to my usual life. Not because I wanted it, but because confronting the fact that this awesome week was ending was too daunting for little old fifteen-year-old me.
And then he said it to me.
“Bye, Carter Talk to you soon!”
He tossed me a paper airplane out the bus window as it crunched down the gravel road, his email written on the underside of the left wing. I couldn’t help the warmth that washed over me, the embarrassment that making a friend brought to me. See, I made a real friend and was still acting like a weirdo.
It turns out, sometimes people just click with you, and that’s where you should put your effort. Taylor didn’t have to invite me to the rec hall, buy me candy since I was only able to afford a small amount of loose change for the whole week, or give me his email. The whole next week I wondered if he was just going to be “busy”, but I had never had a friend I felt so happy around, so I shot off an email and promptly ignored the old PC in the living room for the next twenty-four hours. It seemed easier to accept rejection if I never put myself through it.
But I saw his reply the next morning when I finally bit the bullet, and I couldn’t believe it. I thought it might be a courtesy reply. Twelve years later, I think it’s safe to say he’s the real deal.

thanksgiving is almost an ode to winter; its cranberries ever so reminiscent of mistletoe and hollyberries. warm food with a forewarning of christmas ham or warm challah.

i've never been religious but there's something about thanksgiving and christmas that make me feel like there might be a God or something of the sort. after all, the world is full of the "might be"s so i wouldn't be surprised.

there is something so sacred about family coming to see you over the holidays.

i almost worship it.

november is so haunting that way. you feel as if there is still a last leaf to fall but the clouds and cold beg to differ. they scoff at the attachment (dependence?) to warmth we have.

and maybe this warmth is not so much a dependence or attachment but the need to have? desire goes a long way.

if God is real, i feel as if God, being just that; godly, is only ever felt by me in the winter seasons because of warmth. God tends to be associated with warmth and light: good, which is always something i think about around the holidays.

good is something ingrained and etched into almost every child. something about virtous actions, good, and this hope for warmth is reflected in our memories of holiday, we idolize warmth and goodness, and i cant help but think that God has something to do with that. just think about the attributes of christmas and other such winter holidays.

and back to that thing about thanksgiving and winter. today i went to my aunt's house like every time i've went for thanksgiving. but this time was different. the tree was already up, gloating its beautiful lights as it stood tall in the window.

maybe thanksgiving is not an ode to winter but a transition. that makes christmas the transition to the new year. infamously, i hate change- but maybe God loves it. so i suppose i will have to as well.

thanksgiving makes me believe in God because reuniting with family is a miracle. thanksgiving is a miracle because it is a transition to winter. winter makes me feel as if i am blessed.

i love thanksgiving.

Toast to the ones that we met
Toast to the memories which will survive
and lift us up at our lowest
Good luck to the ones that are gone
Good luck for what’s to come
and may you fly high
Thank picture frames and thoughts
Because people need people

A story brings us all together
From the beginning to the third draft
Yet an ending separates us all again
From dancing on clouds to big smiles
Thank Flashbacks and flashlights
For people need people

If FIFA can bring people together
every four years, why not every four days,
four hours, four minutes and four seconds?
If friends can become enemies over
such a small incident, should we stop trying?
Thank people and poetry

Thank New Years and Second Chances
‘Cause people need people