Coming out
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I remember how my heart broke. I remember how I felt the air leave my chest, with no sign of ever returning. This feeling, an almost indescribable feeling, stuck around for almost a year.

The beginning of my sophomore year of high school, rumors began to spread. I was officially labeled the “gay” girl at school, and there was no going back. But truth be told, I didn’t even know if I was gay. Sure, I liked a girl, but that doesn’t really mean anything. I was still trying to figure myself out, trying to decide who I was. I could deal with the rumors at school, but then they hit home — they spread so far through the grapevine that they reached my uber-religious parents. More… “Remembering”

Janeane Glenn is a sophomore chemistry student. She dreams of attending medical school to become a doctor, but likes to write in her free time. She hopes to dedicate her life to helping others and making the world a more happy, peaceful place.

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I can’t write poems anymore. I’ve lost all my inspiration, which has been dwindling steadily since I’ve gotten older. When I sit down to write, I think, What’s the point? There’s so many other things to do. Can you help? — Uni

 

It’s hard to measure the value of writing a poem versus the more immediate value of taking out the trash, but I think writing a poem would be greater, in most respects. That doesn’t mean you shouldn’t take out the trash, that there’s no value in performing such a task. Life is all about balance and…

Oh, who am I kidding? I’m going through such a phase, too. I think all poets and writers go through them. In the meantime, try some poetry exercises so you don’t lose your training — imitations, or translating an existing… More…