I was afraid to swallow food when I was eleven. I lived on licking peanut butter from a spoon and yogurt. One time I went to Dorney Park with my friend and I got fries to not seem weird. I buried as many as I could into the paper ketchup cups. My friend's mother gave me a funny look. My father put cream of wheat in front of my face and I would shake, terrified he wanted me dead. I would eat a cracker until it was liquid and then spit it out. I would sneak my grandfather's Ensure milkshakes for when he had cancer just so I didn't become malnourished. This lasted for two months. Doctors didn't know it was  mental. They wanted to remove my tonsils. One day, I just gave in and thought "if I die, I die." The first solid thing I swallowed was a piece of boiled chicken. I screamed with joy at the dinner table. No one truly understood what that was like for me.

meow meow,

mew

meow

meow mew meow,

meow meow

mew?

meow meow,

mew

meow

meow mew meow,

meow meow

mew, and

hiss.

Let's prove that the camera lies.

Put down the phone, the selfie stick too.

Take a wipe, clean it off

Remove all that makeup till it's nomore

And look into a mirror

This is who you are.

This is beauty.

Please don't hide.

Let me breathe

I am just a child

Let me breathe

I cannot see my world

Let me breathe

Is college all that matters

Let me breathe

I'm sorry that wasn't an A

Let me breathe

Why am I so stupid

Let me breathe

I need just as much air as you

why was I chosen

for such a terrible fate

make the best of it

is all you would say to me

so i carved my own life path

Well, that's an interesting question. I could inform you that I'm a fifteen-year-old Caucasian Jew living in India with loving parents that are Indian and Chinese. But I think that may be confusing, so I'll start from the beginning.

I guess my life sounds like something out of a book or maybe really poorly written fanfiction. I've been told that. And I guess it does. I'll let you decide for yourself.

When I was born, my biological parents didn't want me. So they got rid of me. Correction- my mother got rid of me. My father kept me for the money. What money, you may ask. I'm going to leave it at the fact that I was raped at a young age and forced into abuse throughout my elementary years and it was through these actions my father found a method in which he could supplement his income.

Eventually, my father was found out and I spent time my sixth and seventh grades in an orphanage. Then, through a series of foster parents, I found myself with a loving mom and dad who were from different cultural background each (Chinese and Indian respectively). My parents are loving and accepting, going so far as to allow me to maintain my beliefs. So here I find myself, a Jew living in a Hindu home with Chinese and Indian parents.

Moving on to me, I'm a happy person. Really, I am. I love to eat ice-cream (pistachio is great!), I love to write mystery novels, and eating ramen noodle in my pyjamas. I love writing POC (sure you couldn't tell) and would be more than willing to answer question anyone has in regards to different cultures. I have begun to found a loving family here at Prose (shout out to @infiniteflame, @cursedlove, and @chimericalmark- you guys are seriously amazing). I look forward to growing as a writer and learning alongside everyone in this loving community!

Love,

Samara Mehta