Fiction On Odyssey: You Must See

Fiction On Odyssey: You Must See

They tell me I'm a monster for what I did...

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We follow Jeremy on this journey of her trying to understand why she ended up where she is and why everyone has turned against her when all she was trying to do was keep her family intact. But Jeremy may have taken things a little too far, will she be able to convince them to see?

You Must See

(An Asylum room. JEREMY is alone.

She is sitting in front of a mirror.)

JEREMY

You are not a monster. You are not crazy. Yes, you may be a bit… a bit different, but you are just like them. Right? Just human? Someone who makes mistakes, not perfect. Isn't that what really makes a human? Their flaws… their fuck ups? If one doesn't make mistakes, then that's not a human being?

So, if that's the case, then why do they treat me like this? So, my mistake is a bit different from theirs and they think its okay to throw me in the looney bin? No, that's not fair. That's not right. I messed up I know, but was it really that serious? I was pushed.

No one ever sees what happens before, they just see the aftermath. They just see you with the knife in your hand… they just see you standing over a body. They didn't see what brought you to that point. I did what I had to do, I did what needed to be done.I did what they wouldn't!

They didn't understand you… they don't understand you. That's why they fear you. She was wrong for him and they all knew it, even he knew it. But he would never have the guts to get rid of her, she was going to ruin him. So yeah, I took matters into my own hands.

Why is that so wrong? What I did was for family, I looked out for MY family! She wasn't mom… she could never replace her and I wasn't going to let her. He was going to let her and I couldn't let that happen. She was poison to my family, she was killing us from the inside out.

We were doing fine before she came into the picture. Why did he to bring her into my family? This is his fault! Not mine! I'm in here because of his stupid mistake! She needed to be gone. I had a mission to accomplish and I did it. They tell me I'm a monster for what I did, I think I'm just someone who doesn't mind doing… what needs to be done.

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The Coach That Killed My Passion

An open letter to the coach that made me hate a sport I once loved.
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I fell in love with the game in second grade.

I lived for every practice and every game. I lived for the countless hours in the gym or my driveway perfecting every shot, every pass, and every move I could think of. Every night after dinner, I would go shoot and would not allow myself to go inside until I hit a hundred shots. I had a desire to play, to get better and to be the best basketball player I could possibly be.

I had many coaches between church leagues, rec leagues, personal coaches, basketball camps, middle school, and high school. Most of the coaches I had the opportunity to play for had a passion for the game like I did. They inspired me to never stop working. They would tell me I had a natural ability. I took pride in knowing that I worked hard and I took pride in the compliments that I got from my coaches and other parents. I always looked forward to the drills and, believe it or not, I even looked forward to the running. These coaches had a desire to teach, and I had a desire to learn through every good and bad thing that happened during many seasons. Thank you to the coaches that coached and supported me through the years.

SEE ALSO: My Regrets From My Time As A College Softball Player

Along with the good coaches, are a few bad coaches. These are the coaches that focused on favorites instead of the good of the entire team. I had coaches that no matter how hard I worked, it would never be good enough for them. I had coaches that would take insults too far on the court and in the classroom.

I had coaches that killed my passion and love for the game of basketball.

When a passion dies, it is quite possibly the most heartbreaking thing ever. A desire you once had to play every second of the day is gone, it turns into dreading every practice and game. It turns into leaving every game with earphones in so other parents don't talk to you about it. It meant dreading school the next day due to everyone talking about the previous game. My passion was destroyed when a coach looked at me in the eyes and said, "You could go to any other school and start varsity, but you just can't play for me."

SEE ALSO: Should College Athletes Be Limited To One Sport?

Looking back now at the amount of tears shed after practices and games, I just want to say to this coach:

Making me feel bad about myself doesn't make me want to play and work hard for you, whether in the classroom or on the court. Telling me that, "Hard work always pays off," and not keeping that word doesn't make me want to work hard either. I spent every minute of the day focusing on making sure you didn't see the pain that I felt, and all of my energy was put towards that fake smile when I said I was OK with how you treated me. There are not words for the feeling I got when parents of teammates asked why I didn't play more or why I got pulled after one mistake, I simply didn't have an answer. The way you made me feel about myself and my ability to play ball made me hate myself, not only did you make me doubt my ability to play, but you also turned my teammates against me to where they didn't trust my abilities. I would not wish the pain you caused me on my greatest enemy. I pray that one day, eventually, when all of your players quit coming back that you realize that it isn't all about winning records. It's about the players.

You can have winning records without a good coach if you have a good team, but you won't have a team if you can't treat players with the respect they deserve.

SEE ALSO: To The Little Girl Picking Up A Basketball For The First Time


Cover Image Credit: Equality Charter School

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Poetry On Odyssey: My Thoughts As A Teenage Insomniac

"Shifty minds in a shifty night."

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My thoughts have hit a new low,
My bedroom is feeling too cold-
I wanna sleep but my bedspread's only made for two.

DON'T FIX MY AESTHETIC,
I'M CALLING A MEDIC-
I'LL F**K ON THE TABLE,
AND HOTBOX WITH GOD.

Illusions depicted,
Writing hometown fictitions,
And drinking big bottles with uplifting tongues.

I'M PLAYING WITH RATTLES,
I'VE UPSET SOME CATTLE
WHO WASHED UP A BOMB-

Rolling around twisting some thoughts,
I've gotten insomnia-
And switched on and off.
I'm subtle and bitter,
I've craved for hard liquor,
But felt gross off the thought.

GO DRINK SOME BEER,
AND THEY WILL ALL CHEER-
I GO IN AND OUT
OH F**K I JUST SHOUT!
I PUNCHED MY FRIEND BOBBY
I'M MAKING A HOBBY,
TO SUCK ON MY THUMB!

My mind is a gutter,
A repulsive mess.
I shift around-
On and off bed.
For the nighttime thoughts lingers
And I'm shriveled with thought.
For graveyard hours really just suck.

LIGHTS ON, ON AND OFF
I THINK FELL,
THESE MOMENTS SUCK

I'm a teenage insomniac,
Whatever will I do?
When my mind comes down under,
I relapse again.

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