There is something larger than life when I write to myself in less than or equal to 280 characters. The way that this is my way of keeping myself alive, my first tweet to myself tells me, is ocean soft. My algorithm computes then displays in neat rectangles under a present labeled ‘For you’ telling me I wish too deeply & too often for the other side of my living room, a steaming bowl of rice in my hands, & the distant sound of my old favorite TV show playing in the background. But how unfortunate is it that I have to hold onto reminders, these notes to myself telling me to breathe, to choose the sun before it wakes, to lean into the walls of this institution that I live in—sharper than any sword—piercing even to the soul & spirit. Yet these walls burst at the seams when it builds me to be half the person I see in my dreams. But on days when the past & future don’t let me sleep, I read, You will find peace through this winter rain. I don’t even think it was raining at 7:23 PM five days ago. I am enough. I am always enough. That one’s more common. There is only half a chance that any of this will end well & I foolishly left it in the backseat of my car whose headlights I forgot to turn off three weeks ago. One day you will be so so far away from here. & I try to believe that one. I try to believe these promises dwelling in 280 characters keeping myself where I need to be.
Emily Wang is a high school student who currently resides in Montville, New Jersey. She has been recognized by the Scholastic Art & Writing awards and aims to use writing as a means to express experiences that can’t be confined to a single word. She can usually be found watching films or brewing tea.