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USA250 Journal Project
Personal Chronicle: July 4, 2025 – July 5, 2026
A gift for reflection. A record of now. A story for what’s next.
📍 Journal of Ava Bellamy
Atlanta, Georgia
Started: June 20, 2025 (written late, while little bro was asleep and the fan buzzed loud)
Who am I?
I’m Ava. Seventeen. Black girl magic and a little bit of mess.
I’m the one who keeps it together when nobody’s looking, and sometimes I fall apart when they are. I love sneakers and slam poetry, and I’ve got dreams stretched like constellations across my ceiling. I’m the oldest in this house, which means I’m second-in-command, first-in-line to fix things, and always caught in the in-between.
People see me and think I’ve got it all figured out. I don’t.
But I know this: I’m a daughter, a sister, a friend. I’m smart. I’m tired. I’m hopeful. I’ve got this fire in me that nobody handed to me—I made it. Out of scraps and silence and my mama’s strength.
I’m trying to make a life that feels like mine. Not just handed-down survival. Something bigger. Something louder. Something free.
How did I get here?
I was born in Grady Hospital and raised on backseat naps, Sunday braids, and the smell of Mama’s cocoa butter and cornbread. I’ve never known my dad, and honestly? I’ve stopped waiting. Mama gave me everything she could and then some. She taught me how to pray even when I wasn’t sure who was listening.
Life at home ain’t easy. Mama works too much. Jayden’s got a hundred questions a minute, and Grandma forgets stuff that hurts to remember. I do a lot—get Jayden to school, help with the groceries, remind Grandma that we already had dinner. I love them. But it’s heavy. Sometimes I wish someone would ask how I’m doing—and mean it.
School’s where I breathe. Or try to. I write poems that scare me because they sound like truth. I keep a notebook in my backpack with things I’m too scared to say out loud. I want to go to college, maybe leave Georgia. Maybe not. But I want a future that doesn’t feel like someone else’s leftovers.
Every girl I know is carrying something. Some of us carry babies. Some of us carry rage. Some of us carry silence that could shatter buildings if we ever screamed it out.
Me? I carry all of that—and this pen. Maybe that’s enough to begin.
Family
Tasha Bellamy – Mother.
Jayden Bellamy – Brother.
Miss Nadine – Grandmother.
Keisha Monroe – Mother’s best friend.
Pastor Jerome – Family Pastor.
