
(Hard)ness
Issue 01: Mirrors
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Issue 01: Mirrors
Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit. Vestibulum consectetur libero eu molestie viverra. Etiam neque dui, pellentesque non interdum porttitor, hendrerit eleifend odio. Ut nec nulla sollicitudin, accumsan lorem vel, vestibulum turpis. Proin pretium tincidunt ex in facilisis. Nam suscipit molestie lectus, quis molestie turpis tincidunt eget. Quisque molestie mauris a odio eleifend, nec vestibulum nulla egestas. Pellentesque et elit felis. Nulla id maximus nibh. Phasellus suscipit mattis lacus ut vestibulum. In hac habitasse platea dictumst.
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(Hard)ness
Apply | Fall 2018
Apply | Fall 2018
The Mother Omen
Written by Kritika Iyer | Edited by Yashvi Grover
This is what it takes.
Well, I always love you.
It just takes
A little to like you.
Takes a little fuel, takes a
Little patience,
It takes
A lot of hatred
for me to
Suppress you.
It takes hatred
For any villain working
Against you. For any
Reason to stop
Trying, keep going. For anya
Effort it may take
To finally be able to say that
I’ve been loving you but I haven’t
Been awake,
And sometimes it just takes too much to see.
I forget that you
Can hurt. I forget
And it makes me
Feel worse,
But when
it takes a little
it takes a lot,
And yet I hate that
I’m the reason you believe
It should take anything at all.
I met you at the wrong time.
What you don’t have anymore. That’s
how I learned who you used to be.
You used to be someone
with no headaches. Pounding, wobbling,
a mind on the loose
type of headaches that leave you
paralyzed.
No way out.
But your blue light glasses help,
and they make you look cute.
You used to be someone who danced,
and not just after a fruity drink or two
and the right mix of reggaeton beats
to help your hips along. Your bad knee,
you say, is likely from years of training,
of pounding the floor with your feet
racing to stay on beat. Now when you walk
up and down the stairs one too many times,
you complain of it, the throbbing in your left knee,
the fear you’re getting old, you’re not
who you used to be.
You used to be someone
who could balance chemical equations.
Everyday, twos and fours and
fours and twos were drawn around compounds
to find the sweet spot. Your brain was more
than just a container, you could talk about more
than just your best friend's mom
having sex with her trainer or how
that girl from high school got married already.
You used to be someone with a car,
a used navy blue Volvo to be exact.
Now, you steer with no direction
and drive through red lights
without paying attention, but before
you used to ride with such ease.
You used to be someone who loved
all the time.
You used to be someone
who could do all these things.
I’ve learned all you were from all
you don’t have, and I’m starting to fear
that you’ll soon have nothing.
Nothing to fear
You have nothing
to fear,
life goes on.
There are no birds
in this house
flapping along.
When I wake
in the morning
my hunger is gone.
Still I reach
for your hand
callused and strong.