the CyCle Of life

Siyaa Gulati

I am only a kid, trying to live like one.

I want to spend time with my family. I want to explore with my friends. I want to do so many things.

A hand holds me back. There is a word written on it, School.

Life is too short, enjoy it while you can, they say, but I am too indulged in school. At night I wonder about things that I’d be capable of doing if only school wasn’t a barricade on my road.

I survive off of 4 hours of sleep every night, forcing my eyes to stay wide open. I feel like a night owl. I search on Youtube at 2:00 a.m.

“How to not feel tired.”

I should be asleep by now, right? But I cannot.

My assignments are calling my name, they tell me to complete them no matter the time otherwise I will fall behind.

I wake up at 5:45 a.m. every morning. I get questioned, “Are you not tired?”

With my puffy eyes and aching body I shrug and say no, I don’t feel tired.

My thoughts kick me from the inside. They ask, “Why are you lying?” I am just bound to.

School feels like a huge rock on my head, I just have to do what I have to do however I have to finish my work.

What prevents my cup from overflowing is me telling myself, The moment which exists is about to pass.

Life feels as monotonous as the Industrial Revolution, working all day, all night, there are no breaks.

Those who created the system of grades are following the system of laissez-faire, oblivious to the lives of students with grades involved in it.

“No one is perfect,” they say.

But the standards are so high. They spike through the roof. They require us to be perfect.

It gets tiring having to do this every day of my life, not getting to live it otherwise.

If only I could go back in time to my childhood, there was the perfect simplicity of being one.

Busy playing with toys.

Busy watching cartoons.

Busy playing doctor-doctor and teacher-teacher, stress was nowhere in sight. Not a single worry on my face about 100s was seen.

Then comes the beautiful complexity introduced by two, when all that inhabits my mind are worries. I wish I realized then that this time is never going to come back.

It’s hard to convey my emotions, there is so much more that I want to say. But it’s hard to convey because there is so much more that I could say.

Remember I am only a kid, trying to live like one.

* Italicized lines in stanzas 11 and 12 are from “On Turning Ten” by Billy Collins

Stephanie Harding

Bobbie and her boyfriend Frankie are walking hand in hand inside the Brew Palms Café and have a seat. Bobbie feels her hands get clammy as they take a seat at a table. She is visibly nervous to tell her boyfriend of three years that she wants to break up.

Bobbie: So . . . Frankie . . . I have something important to tell you . . .

Frankie: Sure, B! What’s going on?

Bobbie: So, I’ve thought of something new that could improve our relationship . . .

Frankie: Oh? What is it?

Bobbie: I’m thinking we should break up . . .

Frankie: W-what . . . why?

Bobbie: I’ve been seeing your brother Henry for three months behind your back. Voice starts breaking.

Frankie: No . . . say it ain’t so . . .

Bobbie: I . . . I’m also carrying his child. She pulls out a party popper and pink streamers come out. It’s a girl!

Frankie: GET OUT!!

Bobbie: No, please! We can raise this kid together!

Frankie: Raise my brother’s kid?! With my wack girlfriend who cheated on me? I think not! In fact, I’m expecting a son with your sister!

Bobbie: What are you talking about?! I don’t have a sister!

Frankie: Well, you do now!

Scene closes with Bobbie running out of the café hysterically crying while Frankie bows to everyone watching their whole dispute go down.