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THE THOUGHT OF PERSERVERANCE, Andrew Z THE THOUGHT OF PERSERVERANCE, Andrew Zhao

Richard Wright’s Black Boy incorporates lengthy poem stanzas that efficaciously demonstrate and summarize Wright’s experiences in his childhood. As time passes, these poems become increasingly self-aware and reflective, commenting on the struggles Wright endures because of racism. I have also experienced struggles during my time in private school, where I was not able to adjust. After I left, I was finally able to reflect and truly understand the full scope of my suffering that I did not realize during my time there. Each day dragged on with an abnormal stubbornness. And every moment in my new school steadily tightened the cord of anxiety coiled around my neck. I endured panic that constricted my throat and clenched my fists when my teacher came to claim the mustard yellow worksheet from the day before that I did not complete. I endured the anxiety whose only relief came when I found the comforting faces of my friends in the sea of hostile seniors, wrestling in

the cafeteria lines. Richard Wright’s Black Boy incorpo- I endured the looming shadow of exrates lengthy poem stanzas that efficaciously haustion awaiting me in every classroom, readdemonstrate and summarize Wright’s experi- ily enveloping me once the class began. ences in his childhood. As time passes, these I endured the pain as I had never known poems become increasingly self-aware and re- pain before when my head grew dizzy from the flective, commenting on the struggles Wright splatter of dark blood gushing incessantly from endures because of racism. I have also expe- my split kneecap, while my gym classmates rienced struggles during my time in private formed a cautious circle around me. school, where I was not able to adjust. After I I endured the conflict tearing apart my left, I was finally able to reflect and truly un- chest and shame pumping blood in sickening derstand the full scope of my suffering that I beats through my head as I abandoned my did not realize during my time there. friend’s birthday party for a popular kid’s laser Each day dragged on with an abnormal tag session. stubbornness. And every moment in my new I endured the bitter, angry comments school steadily tightened the cord of anxiety from my parents as my grades slid downhill coiled around my neck. I endured panic that slowly but surely. constricted my throat and clenched my fists I endured the overwhelming sense of when my teacher came to claim the mustard inferiority when I stayed silent while students yellow worksheet from the day before that I around me bragged of their hundred dollar aldid not complete. lowances and monthly trips to—impossibly— yet another country in Europe.

I endured the anxiety whose only relief came when I found the comforting faces of my friends in the sea of hostile seniors, wrestling in the cafeteria lines. I endured the looming shadow of exhaustion awaiting me in every classroom, readily enveloping me once the class began. I endured the pain as I had never known pain before when my head grew dizzy from the splatter of dark blood gushing incessantly from my split kneecap, while my gym classmates formed a cautious circle around me. I endured the conflict tearing apart my chest and shame pumping blood in sickening beats through my head as I abandoned my friend’s birthday party for a popular kid’s laser tag session. I endured the bitter, angry comments from my parents as my grades slid downhill slowly but surely.

I endured the blue haze of the projector monitor that my algebra class used daily, accompanying my lack of sleep to create an irritable and constant twitch in my left eye. I endured the vague disgust as I walked past high schoolers expressing their affection behind the football field bleachers. I endured the long, sleepy lectures from my heavily accented Italian art teacher. I endured the fiery self-loathing that morphed into hateful, angry complaining when I failed the swimming tryouts by the fraction of a second. I endured the widespread, crowd propelled panic when a lightning bolt struck a maple tree twenty meters outside the school gates. Finally, the last day of enduring had come. I endured the last five minutes of the day that seemed to last five hours. I endured sincere hugs and heartfelt goodbyes from people who I didn’t know gave any care about me. But I was coldhearted; I hated everything about this place, and nothing could change that now. Walking out the doors held open by a smiling doorman, I barely glanced at my friends who pulled me through my years at private school, and I stumbled into the sweet release of freedom... Princeton, here I come.

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COLOPHON

The artworks in this issue were accepted through standard review board voting and group discussion. During this process, the artists’ names were kept anonymous to everyone besides the managing editors, who had compiled all of the submissions beforehand. Each staff member voted anonymously either “yes” or “no” on a Google form. All art and literature pieces with higher than 50% approval were published. A few others below 50% approval were also accepted based on their potential, both as complements to other pieces and their abilities to unify entire layouts. We keep a consistent art-to-literature ratio. We are Princeton High School’s only art and literature magazine. We are an extracurricular club that meets after school; on normal meeting days we meet for half an hour on Tuesdays. When we are designing layouts we meet for three hours every day for four days. For Issue XXII, the initial distribution took place online.

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