The saying is supposed to ring true: “The truth will set you free.” But what does it mean when this truth we worship shackles us to the past? What can be said about the people who fly too close to the OCD-infused confessions blurted out in the name of being honest? For as long as I can remember, I have known myself to be honest. White lies turn to ash on my tongue, and I believe the sources out there that tell us our bodies don’t like to lie. But I’ve lied too many times to count and witnessed my body turn on itself when backed into a corner, graffitied with the phrase “authentic you.” I try to take a step back and reflect on how I’ve harmed another person or myself, and I’ve had to accept that the burden of that betrayal is not simply wished away. No, the memories we carry with us that show scientific evidence of our shortcomings are ones our minds would rather forget. Ah, the sweetness that comes with forgetting. These cold, hard facts about ourselves live on the tip of our tongues and turn into “I forgot what I was about to say” instead. We ask for softness, but the price we end up paying is anything but that.
I was recently graced with the words, “You are now a published writer.” I’ve always considered myself somewhat of a writer if long, unsolicited texts about my current hyperfixation count as writing. My friends like to make fun of my lack of grace in spelling. I spell with my heart, meaning I spell words exactly how they sound. Unfortunately, the English language seems to disagree with that stance. Even when I use the excuse that I must have heard the word before I ever dreamed of spelling it, they still tease me incessantly. Apparently, the spelling of Saddam Hussien (not Sedam Whosaiem) is something I needed to know to be taken seriously! To this point, I’ve struggled to see myself as anything more than a girl with much to say. There is so much to say that the mere act of spelling is only a barrier between the vicious thoughts circulating in my head and their existence in the three-dimensional simulation of our world. Even now, I rely heavily on spell check to set me in the right direction. Grammar is a heavy chain, fettering me to this dark, dim, and gloomy reality. I like to think my English teacher saw the ferocity with which I wanted to speak my mind but was forced to lie dormant behind all the rules and regulations tied to eloquently putting pen to paper. My quill had ink, but I had to watch that ink splotch nonsense on the paper until I lost the will to try again.
Back to the part about being a published writer. I am pleased to announce that I was chosen to write something for Kizuna, a zine that focuses on connection, community, and creativity. My very good friend, Madeline, created her own company called Friend Zines, where you can create your own zines with your friends about whatever topic suits your fancy. Friend Zines is more than just a platformโit’s a vibrant community dedicated to empowering you and your friends to create your own magazines (zines). Whether you’re seeking templates, coaching, organization tips, or simply a supportive space, they’re here to ensure your creative journey thrives.
I was lucky to be part of the company’s first-ever zine, Kizuna. Itโs about storytelling, passion, and exploration. Kizuna means the enduring bonds between peopleโclose relationships forged through mutual trust and support. I knew what spoke to me the most about that theme was the bonds I share with my past, present, and future friends. I was thrilled to know that the ghosts of my past would finally have their day in the sun. Their incessant scratches on my window late at night started getting on my nerves. To satiate them, I wrote my piece with my heart. I’m trying with all my might these days to meet my fears head-on, which is easier romanticized than done… but it must be done.
The piece I wrote for the zine is titled The Ghosts of Best Friends Past. It’s about exactly what you would think. Of course, I changed all of the names of real people and used characters from Wuthering Heights by Emily Bronte. When I ran out of names, I started using Emily’s sister Charlotte’s work as inspiration. Along with the name changes, nobody will ever know which parts of the story are embellished. If you want to see if I wrote about you, you know how to find out. I’m learning to be okay with the discomfort that my writing is out there, and it’s not perfect, but it’s done. I read it now and wish to add a few things here and there: regret that I didn’t include certain characters from my life, and cherish the fact that I went against my better judgment to tell stories where I’m the culprit of all the pain. It’s not easy to be the villain, especially when you don’t get to wear a sexy catsuit while you do it. As a matter of fact, it’s not pretty at all to confront who you’ve been and who you’re so desperately trying to be. I want my friend’s daughters to know that it’s okay to grow like a weed in a world where you’re told you are supposed to be a rose. I hope to keep growing in an unruly fashion. I want to crack the concrete with my insolence and wild nature that can’t be kept singing in a pretty little cage. I want to be rooted to this Earth, not stuck in the clouds of my daydreams.
This brings me back to what I’ve been trying to say: the truth scares me. If the truth were a woman in her late 20s, she wouldn’t bother wearing perfume because she’s come to accept that no amount of pretty can cover something that just plain stinks. Truth doesn’t mince her words, instead they flow freely from her pretty little mouth. She laughs when someone names a sword or a ship after her because so many of those people can’t handle the truth, just like that one guy said one time in that movie from that one play. The truth is patient, she knows that it’s never good to rush the tranformation that you were born to writhe in pain through. The truth will sit with you when you’re on the floor and jot down in her journal to remind you later that the plain truth is… you’re pretty when you cry.
Be sure to check out Friend Zines and contact them if you’re thinking about making your own zine. It’s super fun and a great way to be creative in a world that does everything possible to keep you in the mindset that creativity is anything but the life force that can keep you rooted in yourself. Don’t let the possibility of being the bad guy keep you from knowing who you are and who you can be because you’re the only one who gets to decide that.
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