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Off the Quill 2020-2021

Off the Quill is a research and creative arts journal published by the Honors Scholar Program at Texas Woman's University. This annual anthology is created by students, for students. This year's Athenian Honor Society Publications Committee: Alyssa Lumsden (Secretary of Publications) Amanda Greenwood Anna Whitaker Marjorie Lim Isabelle Kenneke Joanna Simmons

Off the Quill is a research and creative arts journal published by the Honors Scholar Program at Texas Woman's University. This annual anthology is created by students, for students. This year's Athenian Honor Society Publications Committee:

Alyssa Lumsden (Secretary of Publications)
Amanda Greenwood
Anna Whitaker
Marjorie Lim
Isabelle Kenneke
Joanna Simmons

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answer. Yearning to clep out of <strong>the</strong> conversation, I backed up<br />

bumping into a dining chair. Huffing, my Grandfa<strong>the</strong>r shook<br />

his head and turned his back to me.<br />

I stayed in <strong>the</strong> adjoining room, alone. A wave<br />

washed over me. Emotions, pains I have no way of describing;<br />

nor had I ever experienced <strong>the</strong> depth of <strong>the</strong>se feelings before. I<br />

attempted to pull out <strong>the</strong> chair next to me, right before I<br />

blacked out. My mind was dark, but my sight distorted--<br />

thoughts that were not mine floated through my head like<br />

colors. Heartbreak screamed at me in crimson, bitterness and<br />

insufficiency roared with a twinges of green, denial bit at me in<br />

shades of burnt orange, and a purple so black washed over it all<br />

as despair dragged me down a road towards guilt, resentment<br />

and hatred. I battled each with my own conscience, completely<br />

unaware of where this had come from.<br />

My mind finally awoke, and I felt myself once more; I<br />

opened my eyes to find my Aunt had gotten up off <strong>the</strong> couch<br />

and my head now lay in her lap, her husband standing over her.<br />

As I looked around, I found <strong>the</strong> entire family watching me,<br />

including my Grandmo<strong>the</strong>r, but <strong>the</strong> atmosphere was not <strong>the</strong><br />

same: <strong>the</strong> intense emotions were gone, and horror showed on<br />

<strong>the</strong>ir faces. Panicked, I stood. Swaying, I grasped <strong>the</strong> back of<br />

<strong>the</strong> chair I had attempted to pull out.<br />

“Careful!” my Aunt called looking up from where I left<br />

her on <strong>the</strong> floor, “you were out for a while.”<br />

My uncle stretched out a hand to steady me, but I shook<br />

my head. Doing so I caught a glance of myself in <strong>the</strong> mirror<br />

across <strong>the</strong> room. Instantly, my body went rigid in horror as<br />

well. My hands flew to my face, hot tears streaming down, as I<br />

stumbled to <strong>the</strong> bathroom and locked <strong>the</strong> door behind me. I<br />

hesitated to look up at my own reflection, and when I did--I<br />

wished I hadn’t. I had lines of stress and crinkles from anguish;<br />

I had streaks of grey in my hair--which was wild and untamed<br />

as if I had been running my hands through it. My eyes were<br />

puffy and bloodshot. I was 20 years old, yet my body looked<br />

like a 70 year old who had <strong>the</strong> weight of <strong>the</strong> world on her back.<br />

My mind went back to <strong>the</strong> serenity of <strong>the</strong> family when I woke.<br />

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