The Wheel

The year was 3500 BC, and I think my invention is gonna change the world. After I spent
hours in my cave refining this majestic instrument, I found myself standing at the pinnacle of an
invention so great it could change the course of history itself–the wheel.
This marvelous creation left my village astounded. So much in fact, that everyone started
to call me.. a god? Whatever that means. As I basked in the overwhelming praise and accolades,
I took solace in the fact that I had crafted something my village valued, something worthy of their
approval. But as my high rode down, a bitter realization popped in my mind; with this great power
comes the great responsibility of shouldering everybody’s happiness.
No longer was I an inventor, but a false deity, tasked with mending their shattered spirits.
Soon after that, the villagers sought my guidance, believing that my inventions held the solutions
to all their problems. Despite my protests, which ended up being ignored, the troubled villagers
kept on coming. I was bound by their perception of me as a divine entity, the pressure fell upon
my shoulders to ensure their contentment, lest their admiration curdles into sour disdain.
But I was a mere mortal, trapped within the confines of my own limitations, just like them.
Fearing the inevitable disappointment that would follow their realization that I couldn’t mend all
their woes, I resolved to prevent such from happening. So I thought of only one solution, I pushed
myself into inventing more tools to solve my village’s perpetual troubles.
And yet, despite my efforts, the hours I spent in my cave tinkering, my inventions were
just not enough. Hunger and unhappiness persisted within the villagers, and I, as much as I
hated to admit it, couldn’t remedy their worries. Their pitiful cries for guidance resonated within
my tortured soul, each plea a knife that stabbed deeper into my existence. The relentless
pressure only grew, burdening my soul, for my people had put their faith in me, only to witness
my failure.
Not long after, desperation flooded and consumed my mind, teeming with inventions that
could possibly make them happy. To see them praise me again, to love me once more, to revive
the convivial atmosphere again, yet nothing bore fruit. Overwhelmed, I found myself teetering on
the precipice of insanity. How can they not understand? I was not their savior; I was a cruel
reminder of their own insignificance.
A tempting siren’s call whispered to me in the form of death. Unable to be their “god” any
longer, my mind proposed with ideas to end my anguish. I can’t take bear to see their
disappointed faces anymore. My last idea appeared in my mind, a weapon so powerful it would
end my suffering with one trigger. So I invented the first gun and shot myself in the head.
The wheel, once a beacon of hope, remained silent and motionless, a cruel reminder of
the futility of my endeavors.
Lock your doors.
Do you lock your doors? You really should. Maybe you checked right away after reading
the title. Some people immediately lock the door when they get home. Maybe you’re the type of
person to double check, wait no, triple check after doing literally anything to have that sense of
security. Did you notice anything strange? Anything that could’ve made you think that you weren’t
alone? Would you notice? Do you even lock your windows?
Once upon a time, there lived a girl, and this girl was very paranoid. She checked the
locks twice, charges her taser fully before she leaves home, made sure her mace was full, and
never forgets to look in the back seat before getting in her car. Her friends and family called her
uptight and paranoid. She liked to think she was being careful. She thought she was, she really
did. But that’s where she’s wrong, no one is careful enough.
She walked the same path home everyday. You could probably memorize it if you studied
her long enough. She calls herself careful but somehow forgets to switch up her schedule from
time to time. It didn't take me long to figure out her routine. That wooden baseball bat she had
since sixth grade that she kept by the front door? I moved it multiple times already, and I swear
she has never noticed. And she lived alone too, no dog. Don't people watch the news? The world
is a scary place.
I knew where she hid the spare key, inside the cute potted plant she kept on the
windowsill. Clever, but easy to find. I could have used the spare key, but I wanted a challenge.
Getting to her was just too easy! I loved the way adrenaline thrums in my veins whenever I
almost get caught. Breaking into houses is just too easy nowadays.
I've picked plenty of locks in my time, I just have a really interesting hobby, but where's
the fun in that? She had a back door with a simple lock. If you pry it just right, the whole thing falls
apart! Someone with connections like mine can get that replaced easily. It took me minutes. After
that, I unlocked all the windows. She never once checked them.
I'm not here to brag. She was an easy target. No nosy neighbors, no partner, no dog. I'm
here because I'm bored. You people make it too easy. There's no thrill, no buildup at all! What
happened to the curious, nosy neighbors that documents everything that happens to everyone?
Where’s that snoopy aunt of yours that asks too many questions? That one neighbor that thinks
he has the right to act like a detective because he can’t be one? Where are they? I’m bored!
So, I'll ask you again, in big letters for the simple-minded folks out there: DID YOU LOCK
THE DOOR? What about the windows? Are you sure that the small knock on your window
caused by the wind? Did you check the backdoor? Some people leave them broken you know,
not bothering to fix them.
Did you check? Do you feel safe now? Were you ever really worried? You really think
your neighborhood is safe? I bet you didn’t even notice the big knife in your kitchen go missing.
Last question, and it's an easy one. Did you lock me out? Or did you lock me in?

See you soon.

Procrastination and its Consequences
Once upon a time, in a small town, there lived a student named Alex. Alex was described
by his teachers and family as intelligent, capable, and full of potential. However, there was one
trait that held Alex back time and time again: procrastination.
It was the day before an important exam, and Alex planned that they’d study for it. Well,
planned to anyways. But even as the hours excruciatingly passed, Alex found every possible
excuse to delay reviewing.
First, it was a sudden urge to clean his room, believing that a tidy environment would
somehow improve their focus. They even re-arranged their whole closet! Oh how far Alex went to
simply avoid studying. Next, it was a tantalizing invitation from a friend asking Alex to play a short
game of whatever mobile game is trending nowadays.
“But the exam is tomorrow!”, the angel on their right shoulder reminded him. “It’s just a
quick game!”, the devil on his other shoulder reasoned back. So Alex was left with the choices to
either study, or play a round with this friend. Obviously, Alex chose to join his friend, thinking the
game will only take 10 minutes. Poor, delusional Alex. His short game quickly turned into hours of
mindless scrolling on the cursed app of TikTok.
The next morning, the day of the exam arrived, and Alex was left with a sense of dread.
Unsurprisingly, the material he “studied” the day before weren’t retained, and panic inevitably
started to creep in like slow falling sand. But instead of succumbing to the pressure, Alex, being
delusional enough as it is, convinced themselves that a few hours of cramming before the exam
would save them from this predicament. He could not be any more wrong.
As Alex sat down with their module and reviewers, time seemed to slip away at an
alarming rate. Concepts that should’ve been familiar by now became alien to them, and his
anxiety only continued to grow with each passing minute. The more Alex tried to focus, the more
problems seemed to arise, like the universe itself was conspiring against him. The bombinating
thrum of the electric fan, the annoying ticking of the clock, and even the sound of footsteps inside
the house—all became distractions.
Their travel on the way to school felt like walking straight to the gallows, every step closer
to the classroom only worsening their anxiety. As papers were being distributed, Alex felt
ill-prepared and overwhelmed. Questions that should have been simple were met with confusion,
and answers that should have flowed easily were trapped in the recesses of a cluttered mind.
The procrastination had taken its toll, and now Alex had to face the consequences.
After the exams, Alex immediately ran to the bathroom to wallow in his stupidity and cry.
Days turned into weeks, and the exam results were eventually released. Alex received a grade
that was far below their expectations. The big, fat L weighed heavily on his mind, and a lesson
was learned—the hard way.
And from that day forward, Alex vowed on his dying grades that he’d to conquer
procrastination. They implemented a strict, structured schedule, setting aside specific times for
studying and eliminating distractions. It was a difficult road, filled with temptations and hours
spent crying on his pillow, but with determination, and spite, Alex began to regain control.
Slowly, really slowly, but surely, Alex's grades started to improve. The feeling of
accomplishment and satisfaction became addictive, which doesn’t exactly sound healthy,
replacing the temporary relief that procrastination had once provided. It only took Alex a few L’s
to realize that true success required discipline and commitment, and that procrastination only
hindered growth and achievement.
As the years went by, Alex's reputation as a diligent and focused student with really
prominent eyes bags grew. And so, the tale of Alex taught a valuable lesson—that the road to
success is paved with perseverance, dedication, and the determination to overcome the shackles
of procrastination.
Class Presentations
Kaylee dreaded class presentations. The mere thought of standing in front of her
classmates, their eyes fixated on her every word, sent a surge of anxiety through her veins.
Public speaking had become her personal nemesis, the bane of her existence, a challenge that
seemed insurmountable. As the day of her presentation approached, her heart raced, pounding
in her chest like a frantic bird trying to escape its cage yet to no avail.
She envied the confidence and ease that seemed to come naturally to her classmates.
Their words just flowed effortlessly, their voices steady and assured. She wishes she could be
like them. But for Kaylee, the spotlight felt suffocating, the gazes of her classmates on her
shoulders is enough for her to wish for death. Each time she found herself at the front of the
classroom, her palms get sweaty, her knees weak, arms heavy, and struggles to fight nausea to
avoid vomiting her mom’s spaghetti she had for breakfast.
In her desperation for relief, Kaylee yearned for a stroke of liberosis—a release from the
burden of caring too much. She prayed to whatever gods might be out there, begging for a
moment of respite, a brief relief from the anxiety that consumed her. She craved the freedom to
let go, to embrace the vulnerability of imperfection.
As the fateful day of her presentation arrived, Kaylee took a deep breath, summoning
every ounce of courage within her. She stepped forward, her knees trembling like a newborn
deer, but a newfound determination burning in her eyes. She reminded herself that she was not
alone in her struggles, and that countless others had faced similar fears and emerged triumphant.
Her speech started off with a stutter, but with each word that left her lips, Kaylee felt a
flicker of liberation, as if the weight of expectation had begun to lift. The room seemed less
suffocating, the judgmental gazes less intimidating. She allowed herself to embrace the
vulnerability, to embrace the possibility of failure, knowing that true growth lies on the other side
of fear.
As she concluded her presentation, a sense of accomplishment washed over her. Kaylee
realized that the gods she had prayed to for a stroke of liberosis were not external forces but
resided within her own strength and resilience. The stroke of liberation she had longed for was
not a fleeting moment of relief but a journey of self-discovery and self-acceptance.
From that day forward, Kaylee still felt a twinge of anxiety when faced with public
speaking, but she no longer allowed it to hold her back. She saw it as an opportunity for growth, a
chance to conquer her fears and prove to herself that she was capable of facing any challenge
that came her way.
Kaylee's journey serves as a reminder that even in the face of our greatest fears, we
have the power to find strength within ourselves. With determination, self-compassion, and a
willingness to embrace vulnerability, we can transform our anxieties into stepping stones towards
personal growth and a life unrestrained by the limitations of fear.
School Journalism
Elle Woods was an ordinary teenager, navigating the intricate maze of adolescence and
trying to find her place in the world. She had always been curious and inquisitive, but she hadn't
quite found her passion yet unlike her peers. She enjoys writing, but hasn’t yet found an outlet to
share it.
One day, as Elle was perusing the bulletin board, she noticed a sign she hasn’t yet read
before. "Join the School Newspaper! Explore the Power of Words!" Her interest piqued, she
decided to attend the first meeting, not knowing that it would change her life forever.
Before she even stepped foot into the journalism room, Elle was welcomed by a
cacophony of enthusiastic students who shared her love for words. The room buzzed with energy
as ideas were exchanged and stories were discussed. Elle felt a sense of belonging, as if she
had found her calling.
Under the guidance of their dedicated journalism teacher, Mr. Forrest, Elle and her
newfound companions, Enid and Paulette, learned the art of storytelling. They delved into the
world of news, feature articles, and interviews. Elle’s curiosity was ignited, and she found herself
drawn to the power of journalism to inform, inspire, and make a difference. It was as if a switch
she doesn’t even know exists in her was flipped.
As Elle worked on her first assignment, an interview with a local community activist, she
felt a surge of excitement. The thrill of capturing someone's story and sharing it with the world
was exhilarating. Elle realized that journalism wasn't just about writing—it was about giving a
voice to the voiceless, shedding light on important issues, and sparking conversations that could
lead to positive change.
With each article Elle wrote, her passion for journalism grew stronger. She discovered the
joy of research, the satisfaction of conducting interviews, and the art of crafting a compelling
story. Elle realized that journalism was not just a hobby—it was her calling.
As Elle’s skills developed, so did her confidence. She used to be a wallflower, she didn’t
mind to be in the sidelines but sometimes wished to be more. She became a fearless seeker of
truth, unafraid to challenge the status quo and ask the tough questions. Elle’s articles began to
resonate with her peers and teachers alike, sparking discussions and encouraging others to take
action.
Outside of the school newspaper, Elle started noticing stories all around her—stories of
resilience, triumph, and struggle. She realized that journalism wasn't limited to the confines of the
school walls, it could be so much more—it was a tool to shed light on the world and give a voice
to the stories that needed to be heard.
Elle’s love for journalism didn't just impact her school life—it shaped her entire future. She
knew that she wanted to pursue a career in journalism, to become a storyteller who could shine a
light on social injustices, inspire change, and bring communities together.
Years later, Elle Woods stood on the stage of a prestigious journalism award ceremony,
accepting an accolade for her groundbreaking investigative reporting. As she looked out into the
crowd, she saw the faces of the people she had interviewed and the communities she had
impacted. Elle realized that her journey had started in that small journalism room, where she had
discovered her love for journalism and found her voice.
From that moment on, Elle knew that she had a responsibility to use her skills for good, to
be a catalyst for change, and to never stop seeking the truth. Her journey as a journalist had just
begun.