“hello, dr. nica. my name is silvia. i like art and design and stuff. my mom told me i should record these voice letters to you, so you can learn more about me. i dunno why i need to do that. well, hi. lemme start over. i’m silvia, and i like art and design. my best friend is lily santos. today was a normal day. for me at least, i got in trouble again today. why am i even talking to you about this. this is private stuff! why do i have to tell you this stuff? Crash! BEEP!” Something is not right.   My parents   Chat quietly in   The background.   I open the door,   Slowly.   C   R   E   A   K   !   What was that   I dont know   probably just the cat.   I quietly step   Into the room,   Hide in the   Shadows.   Something is wrong with silvia   Keeps getting in trouble   I agree. What shud we do   I think we shud get her a therapist   really   yes   …   Ur serious?   yes   Online therapist. she will record letters and–   she will h8 that   Wut else can we do   I dunno   Have u told her   U tell her   Ur idea. U tell her   Tell me what, dad?   My parents   Start.   Silvia u shudn’t be here   Yea   Well, i am, so start talking.     I cant belive   That my parents are doing this   I thought   They were on my   Side.    It wasn’t my fault   That Ethan told on me   When i doodled in class.   It wasn’t my fault I doodled anyway.   The teacher   Droned.   My classmates   Joked   Played   Pranked.   My fingers   Instinctively   Grabbed the pencil   Dragged it across the yellow sticky note   ms ginger? silvia’s doodling!   Her eagle eyes   Snap to me.    Angry, glowing   this is the fourth time this week, silvia. I have no choice.   Here it comes.   i am going to call your parents.     On my bed   Sulking   Clutching my sticky note   With a wilted rose    Drawn on it.   It is a smeared,   A ruined,    Masterpiece.   Beautiful work of art.   It represents   My wishes   My wonderful wishes   Soaring.   But they will never be   Coming true.   Alive.   It’ll never be that way.     “Hi, dr. nica. again. my mom made me keep talking with you. Anyway, i got in trouble for doodling. I love to doodle. Today, i drew a rose on a sticky note. But a classmate of mine kind of smeared it. no hate to them though. Can you say that? No hate to somebody? whatever. Anyway, i dont understand why i got in trouble. not the other kids. The teacher was kind of boring. there was things way worse than doodling going on. Spitballs airplanes that kind of thing. Did the teacher completely forget that jeffery was throwing straw wrappers at her??? urgh. i dont want to talk about this anymore. Goodbye. BEEEEEP” I am tired   Of too many useless, easy classes.   Of getting in trouble.   Of creativity not allowed.   Of parents whispering.   Of teachers glaring.   Of friends fighting.    Of secrets that I don’t know.   Of things that don’t make sense.    Of things that make sense, but hurt.     Questions I Want To Ask   Life is confusing. Why can I not express my feelings? Why are things so strict? Why can’t I do what I   want?     Isn’t life supposed to be free? Isn’t freedom important?     I love art. You probably know that already. But can’t I use that passion? Can’t I show it? Even art class   itself won’t let me draw freely. Draw a water glass one day, paint a log cabin the next. This is wrong, this   is not. Isn’t art subjective? How can something be wrong?     I am so, so confused. What is wrong with the world? Questions, questions. I sure hate questions.     “Hi dr. nica. Here I am today. i cant believe i survived three days. How am i even sticking to this? How am i surviving this? Ugh. I could be doing my math homework right now. CRASH! BEEEP.” “Hello. in case you were wondering, i dropped the recording device. i definitely did NOT smash it off on purpose. okay, fine, i was lying about that. but can you blame me? my parents are forcing me to record letters to some lady i dont know anything about! How would you feel? *sigh*. This is so not what i need rite now. I mean… look, my parents want me to tell you about me. Ur probably not learning much rite now. lemme explain. I love art. I doodle. a lot. i get in trouble for that, 2. Its hard. Nobody appreciates my creativity. I wish life was easier, but i guess not, huh? well, imma go for now, ‘cause my mom is calling me. Dinner, yum. beep.” My most recent letter   Was definitely my longest yet.   Do not   Judge me.   I am not   Opening up. Trust me.   It’s just, it’s like keeping   A diary.   I can tell her what   I want.   She doesn’t answer me.   I don’t   Know if she even listens    To the letters.   Of course she does, my mom said   When I asked.   But I’m not so sure.