Wahid's Words

4 years ago I started writing for The Pitch. The next years spent in that room can be characterized by stress, frustration and anxiety. Month after month, we somehow managed to race down to the very last minute- and sometimes past- to put out the paper.  It was tough, probably tougher than every other responsibility in high school combined. The relationships in that classroom are very fragile; in that place, any small thing can set anyone off. Editors-in-chiefs, Section Editors, Assistant Editors, Staff Writers- everyone is prone to being affected by the high strung nature of the job. As the paper existed as a whole, every small mistake affects every other member of the staff, regardless of what section they write for. Fights are commonplace. Every article, every info-graph has to go through many pairs of eyes- the last pair belonging to the well-dressed, eloquently spoken Ms. Ellen. Always looking through everything with a "fine tooth comb" (in Sylvie's words), s...

Changes All of these changes  But I'm here to tell you  Don't be afraid There's a bird chirping somewhere in the distance. At least that's what she thinks she hears. Her ears are still ringing from last night. This hotel room is unfamiliar, but it's not like this is the first time that's happened. What was last night's destination? Maybe that one place by that other place? Who gives a crap? She has to get home and get ready for that thing. Home. What a joke. Just like a sunrise  The light of a new day  Step out of the darkness  And let it show you the way Ah, there it is. The sun, her favorite companion. Fuck the sun. Stalker. "Oh! What a beautiful day!" exclaims an old ass white lady wearing a sun dress that looked all too flattering for a woman her age. Meanwhile, here's our subject, looking like she just stumbled out of a bar at 3 a.m. There's no time to think about how she looks now, there's work to be ...