I am standing on stage and the curtain has risen; I can see the gleaming faces of my family and friends in the audience. I feel warm and comforted. I have been standing on this stage, a culmination of years spent honing the craft of creative writing, for four years now. I have one final word to share before the curtain falls, the lights dim, and I exit the stage, the department, and my high school career: my senior thesis. 

I have been anticipating my senior thesis since I was a freshman on Zoom. I have read the well-curated works of past seniors and could not fathom producing a project of my own. I still recall the amazement I felt reading the careful musings of past seniors Parker Burrows, Leela Sriram, Paloma Fernandez, and countless others. All of their projects were such beautiful concentrations of their unique voice that I felt, at once, inspired and intimidated. 

On the cusp of adulthood this past summer, I explored the East Coast and took notes on loose-leaf pieces of paper of images, lines, and memories that struck me. At the end of the summer, when I sat down to organize them all, I found a mountain of slips—some written in hurried cursive, others stocky block letters—that wove threads of nostalgia, femininity, and identity from my earliest memories to the ones I was currently making. I sidestepped the anxiety attached to committing to this project by not imposing anything on it; I allowed my voice to lay the foundation of my thesis, and I am beyond happy with the direction it is going in. 

As I embark on a journey of transition from childhood to adulthood, my thesis is a comforting exploration of self—-a probing transcription of the previously forgotten, the previously unarticulated, and warm interplay between past, present, and evolving facets of my life. 

My hope for my developed thesis is to become a gift to myself, my support system, and other young girls who see themselves in my reflection. If I remember nothing else from my years in Creative Writing, I’ll never forget the unbridled power in words to comfort, affirm, and give language to the nuances of the human condition. I am eternally grateful for Heather Woodward, my fellow seniors, and the entire department who have nurtured my voice and inspired me to share it. 

For the next few months, I will savor my time left on this stage with my friends and mentors. And when the time comes for the curtain to fall and the theater to empty, the feeling of security, warmth, and confidence will stay with me forever.  

Thank you Creative Writing. 

I’ve attached an ekphrastic piece I wrote inspired by the header image of this post: 

overgrowth 

before womanhood bit my skin, i stuffed my younger self in the trunk of my father’s blue ford

i never go back to that vacant parking lot in my heart / it is filled with flowers and her soft impression / all remnants  are dead / even the concrete is receding into carnations /  

whenever i think of her / my heart carries the derivative of “love” like peppermint—sweet in small doses 

i never go back, but if i did, i’d find laughter and tears / in the backseat of a car that now belongs to someone else. 

my father left & i don’t blame him entirely / but he should have known how fragile i was / and maybe he did, but he was young and i was easier to love like that / with his eyes pressed shut / pretending / pretending i was the daughter of a woman he loved / yes, at first I blamed him / but i blamed the concrete too / i blamed the pale orange streetlights / & the overhanging trees / & the moon. 

in the end maybe i was the one who left her there for good / i begged some divination to take the memory / to make that girl a separate entity /

this is a love letter to her / to a body and soul who has not yet been corrupted / hanging in the moment before life transpired / that is still unscathed and covered in daffodils / honeysuckle & lilac 

~ 

If you’re reading this and are able, I invite you to join the Creative Writing department on December 11th and 12th for our annual poetry show: “Prose Were the Days.” You’ll hear poetry from everyone in the department and hear a snippet of my thesis! 💌