Sound Bites, Issue 15: Jamie Harrover

About our author:

Jamie Harrover (she/her) is a 21-year-old student studying criminal justice and writing with a minor in psychology. She is currently a staff member of The Insider, where she runs the poetry column, and has held leadership roles in several campus organizations, including the Pre-Law Society and Gender and Sexuality Alliance.

Jamie lives in Pittsburgh but is rarely there and writes about identity, relationships, and self-discovery.

Three Poems by Jamie Harrover:

just interns, not really

i sit in a room with no windows  

i stare at my computer screen  

and think about a life i used to call my own.  

there were five of us.  

we moved to alaska with no expectations—  

somehow, we exceeded them all.  

they called it a ‘summer internship’  

but really, it was the summer everything changed.  

we were never meant to be friends,  

but we became something deeper: family.  

gavin  

a 20-year-old farm boy from upstate new york.  

he grew up the hard way—  

in ways none of us could fully understand.  

kyler  

21, a rager from chicago.  

no one knows exactly how he grew up—  

but we know he still is.  

leeanna  

22, a recent grad from rochester—my best friend.  

her childhood wasn’t perfect,  

but you’d never guess it.  

sean  

a 20-year-old frat boy from new england,  

raised like someone from a hallmark movie.  

me  

21, from pittsburgh.  

i don’t like to talk about myself much.  

now i sit in this windowless room,

miles from the mountains and the mosquito bites,

pretending i’m okay with the silence.

but some part of me still belongs to those woods,

to the five of us,

to the summer we forgot how to be strangers.

trying is my special talent

i tried to tell my dad

that my stepmom is not the one.

i tried to tell my stepmom

that she’s a bitch.

i tried to tell my mom

that she’s not helping.

i tried to tell my younger sister

she has a severe case of victim complex.

i tried to tell my older sister

she’s not as smart as she thinks she is.

i tried to tell myself

not to tell these people

the things i’ve been trying to tell them.

i tried to tell my brother

if he talks about women to me again,

i’ll be sick.

where the mirror lies

he follows me into the bathroom,

and as i stand there,

he steps between me and the mirror.

he grabs my waist,

he holds me close.

i look over his shoulder,

staring at our reflection.

i know i should see him and i,

but instead,

i see us and wish it was real.

About our column:

Sound Bites is a poetry column intended to be read, heard, and tasted. It is finger food, messy and hands-on, compacting all the sweetest bits of a writer into a few small moments. The column will accept student writing submissions in the form of poetry or short prose for every issue from any and all majors, ages, and backgrounds.

Submissions can be emailed directly to Poetry Columnist Jamie Harrover at jeh275@pitt.edu. Parameters for submissions are as follows:

Please attach a Word (.docx) document of your piece(s) with a maximum of 750 words each

Include a short but personal bio about yourself with a maximum of 200 words

Specify your preferred name and pronouns

Please email me a cover photo of yourself— professional or not.

If you submit multiple pieces, please give them a group title of your choosing (i.e. “Three Poems by Lindsey Kutz”)

Be prepared for follow-up questions 🙂