Does Anything Matter?

Nihal Boina


Does Anything Matter?

Imagine spending your whole life working up to something very important to you and then one day realizing that none of it mattered, because your end goal did not have an appreciable effect on the world, much less the universe. Almost everyone has had, or will have, the thought of ‘Does anything we do matter?’; it’s a question that many spend their whole lives attempting to answer. This question is of top importance because if nothing did matter, then there would be no point of living life. When considering that we are pretty much nothing when compared to the everything surrounding us, the afterlife, the butterfly effect, and the Uncertainty Principle, I believe that there is no answer to the question. Instead of attempting to answer the question, we should choose to believe that life does matter, even if it doesn’t, because every living being would benefit.

Sometime in the 1920s, Edwin Hubble made the astonishing discovery that the universe is expanding, and at an increasing rate, or an acceleration, which basically meant that as time progresses, our presence in the universe becomes less and less noticeable. I currently occupy a space of around 24 cubic feet. The universe, on the other hand, is of a space of around 408 sextillion cubic light years (keep in mind that one light year is 31,039,141,970,400,000 feet). Through extensive calculation, this puts me as occupying 6.106 * 10-57 % of the universe-- .00000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000006106. On top of this, there is also the possibility that there could be an infinite number of universes, which would make me 6.106 * 10-57 % of a grain of sand in the biggest beach ever; we are just too small in order to make any sort of appreciable change in our surroundings.

Put simply, life only matters if there is some sort of afterlife that becomes more pleasant/harsh based on our actions in the physical life; this is because if there isn’t some sort of afterlife that acts in this way then that would mean that our choices made in our physical life (our only life) wouldn’t have any, real, long-term repercussions. The reason why this is being brought up is because right now there is no concrete evidence for how an afterlife would exist and why an afterlife would exist for us, because, we are infinitesimally small when compared to everything. Even if an afterlife existed, it wouldn’t remain permanently because not even the universe is permanent, and will likely end itself through a heat death in about 101000 years due to the decaying of protons; this is contradicting to the whole idea of an afterlife because an afterlife is supposed to last forever.

The butterfly effect is the phenomenon that even the smallest actions in one moment of time can have the greatest effects in the future relative to that moment of time. It’s represented through the book 11/22/63 in which a young man named Jake finds a wormhole that brings him back to the year 1958, where he prevents the assassination of JFK, believing that he will make a positive change in the world. However, after taking out Lee Harvey Oswald and returning to his original time, he found earthquakes everywhere, half of the world destroyed due to a nuclear war, and his old home destroyed. Even the smallest actions, like the presence of a butterfly can have the greatest, most arbitrary effects. Because of the butterfly effect, it would be reasonable to believe that even the smallest actions that we have could make huge ripples in space-time.

In a book that I am currently reading, Stephen Hawking’s A Brief History of Time, the fabulous Stephen Hawking talks about something called Heisenberg’s Uncertainty Principle and how it changed our perception of the universe completely. Back in the 1900’s Newton’s laws of motion gave rise to the philosophy of determinism-- the idea that every action that we do can be predicted. What determinism meant was that nothing we do matters because every action we take can be determined; what is the point of living life if you already know the end result? Eventually, Werner Heisenberg came along with the Uncertainty Principle. What the Uncertainty Principle says is that we can’t know both the present position and velocity of a particle accurately because the more we know of one, the less we can now of the other; this meant that determinism is wrong, and that it’s impossible to accurately predict the actions of all parts of the universe.

From here on out, the evidence for whether or not anything we do matters tends to delve more and more into pseudoscience, or areas that can not be solved through the application of the scientific method (like astrology or religion), so I will have to solve this question through taking a step back. Let’s analyze what the universe would turn out to be if every intelligent living being believed in the idea that nothing matters vs. what the universe would turn out to be if every intelligent living being believed in the idea that everything matters. Through extensive analysis, if everyone believed that nothing matters, the universe would turn into a place of destruction, disorder, nihilism, and pessimism, proving bad for everyone. If everyone believed that everything we do matters, the universe would turn into a place of peace, pleasantry, order, and optimism, proving helpful for everyone.


When considering the arguments of expansion of the universe, the afterlife, the butterfly effect, that we choose our own fate, and the analysis of what would happen if everyone believed that nothing matters, I conclude that there is no answer to whether or not anything we do matters. Our physical life is very short as is and if we spend the majority of it searching for an answer we probably won’t ever find then we will miss out on most of the joys of life. Live life as if it matters, even if it doesn’t, because of the effects that it would pose on the the universe.







Works Cited





Hawking, Stephen. A Brief History of Time. Bantam Books, 2017.





King, Stephen. 11/22/63: Part 1. Scribner, 2011.

Payton’s Comic Strip Creations

Paul R. Koch 

@pkoch9999

Odyssey Last Minute Book Report

The Phone Found in Rainy May

The Phone Found in Rainy May

By Calvin Ya-Lu

I knew a man who could breathe fire

And turn water into blood

He could strip metal into wire

And pull gold lumps from the mud

When I asked him how, he said with a hiss

“I learned it from the abyss”

He explained to me his strange way

The way he found in rainy may

A public phone

That stands alone

At the end of the street named “Worth”

A spot that is not of this earth

He needed to make a call

His car had crashed into a wall

But instead of a tone

He heard a haunting moan

The moan then changed to voices

They offered many choices

“I’ll tear out your eyes”

“We’ll teach you to dance”

The man was in a trance

He hung up the phone and was left concerned

But then just realized, that he had learned

The voices gave him powers

And nightmares lasting for hours

He wakes in cold sweat

And drinks to forget

You may seek it if you must

But put into me your trust

When I say “stay far away”

Or it will take you away

Let your sanity stay another day

Avoid the phone he found in rainy may

Incendiary

Incendiary

The bank was having their regularly scheduled armored truck delivery, each of the two cars containing at least $5,000,000.  A classic place for a robbery.  One of the guards was out sick, so they would even have one less obstacle in their way.  But he didn’t strike there.

The museum was hosting a week-long exclusive viewing of rare gemstones from Africa and the Middle East.  Even the smallest of these gems is priceless, but the man in the orange and black suit did not bother.

9:45 AM, a crisp early April morning.  One of the first nice days after the winter cold, a gentle wind accompanies the city folk enjoying the nice weather, and a man in an orange and black diagonally striped suit and a metal helmet walks into the city governor’s office building.

Not even 5 seconds after walking through the main doors the man commands in a low, flat voice, “You have one minute to leave the building before these doors burst.  I need to have a private conversation.”  As a security guard begins to approach him, the man suddenly and without hesitation pulls out a silver handgun.  BANG-BANG!  He shoots the guard twice, leaving him alive but severely crippled.  The man says one more thing before he opens the door to the stairwell, “You had your chance.”  A millisecond later, the door shatters in a fiery shockwave.

Within seconds the four ground floor entrances and exits are all consumed in bursts of flame.  As everyone else in the building frantically panics, the man in the metal helmet continues to calmly climb the stairs.  Some start to flee down the staircase he is on, seeing their scared expressions reflected by the polished industrial-type metal that encases his entire head, save his face.  A few take notice of the helmet’s details as they run to hopeful safety.  A center stripe of rivets bolts over his head from the just above his forehead to the back of his head.  Two larger bolts on the sides of his helmet hold a bulky, vicious looking mouthpiece that looks similar to the bottom jaw of a shark.  

Firetrucks and ambulances can be heard arriving outside the building as the man meets his target at the top of the stairs.  The governor frantically opens the doors to the stairwell from the hallway, quickly glancing to see if these stairs were already overwhelmed with flames like the first stairwell he tried.  

“Oh, Mr. Governor,” the man says in a fake surprised tone.  “I’ve been needing to speak with you.”

“Wha-what?  Who are you?  N-nevermind we need to get out of here!” the governor tries to push past, but the man easily stops him with his muscular arms.

“That was not a request.  We can have our conversation now.” The man’s dark eyes glint under his helmet in the firelight as he sternly orders the governor.  “After our talk, these flames will be the least of your worries.”

Estres The Farmer

Estres The Farmer

There was a young boy named Estres who lived in a rural village.  He always loved to hang out with his friends.  

“Come Estres, we’re going to the kite festival!” his friends would ask.

“Oh boy!  Let me get my kite.” Estres would excitedly answer.

“Come Estres, the carnival is in town!”

“Oh boy!  Let’s hurry!”

“Come Estres, we’re starting the birthday party!”

“Oh boy! You won’t believe the present I got you!”

Estres always found time to have fun with his friends.

Over the years, Estres and his friends grew older.  Now a young man, he also inherited a section of farmland.  He worked very diligently, with little rest, everyday from sunrise to sunset.  His friends also began to have work of their own, but Estres worked harder than anyone in the village.  His hard work was certainly noticeable.  His potatoes were bigger than babies, watermelons the size of small boulders, oranges juicy enough to make a river, and so much rice he could swim in it.  By himself, Estres’ farm could feed the entire village.  His friends would ask him to join them in celebrating.

“Come Estres, we’re going to the kite festival tomorrow,” his friends would ask him.

“I cannot, I must till the soil.” Estres would blandly answer.

“Come Estres, the carnival is in town!”

“I cannot, I must seed my farmland.”

“Come Estres, today is the wedding!”

“I still need to weed my farmland, but I cannot miss your wedding.”

Estres rarely ever hung out with his friends now, only attending important events such as birthdays and weddings.  Whenever he did go out with his friends, he seemed to distance himself from others and was always ready to leave.

Many years later, Estres and his friends were now old and retired.  At least his friends were retired, as Estres still worked everyday on his farm.  By now, Estres had completely stopped interacting with anyone.  He only left his farm to sell his crop and restock his supplies.

“Estres! It’s good to see you again.  Come, let us catch up on old times.”  His friends would ask him when they saw him at the market.

“I cannot, I must tend to my crops,” Estres would dryly answer.

Not long after, Estres died.  He undoubtedly had the most impressive and successful farm in the history of the village.  He produced enough potatoes to build a castle, watermelons so massive they used them for the village walls, oranges so delicious they were renowned across the land, and so much rice that it became more common than dirt.  But he also undoubtedly had no wife, no children to inherit his labor, and his social communication in general had effectively ended years ago.  The townspeople all came to his funeral, but more out of respect for his death than for personal connection.

The Building

     He woke up each morning the same way by the ringing of the breakfast bell, which echoed through the building. His eye shot open, his thoughts raced through his mind, and turned around, his head facing the nurse that brought his pills.
    “Here you go, sweetie,” the nurse told him, placing the tray of pills on the table next to the bed, where he sat. The nurse left the room soon afterwards without a thought against it. She never heard him speak, the last time a word was uttered to the nurse was 20 years ago, when he was first brought into the building. Sometimes she heard him say thank you very softly as she left the room, but the nurse just thought it was all in her head.
    After 20 years, he gave up hope of ever being cured of whatever was wrong with him. He took four pills in the morning, three pills at lunch, and five pills at night before he went to bed. However, if we woke up in the middle of the night he would take a sleeping pill.
    He stood up facing the mirror, his reflection staring back at him. The mirror showed him shirtless, because that was how he slept. The six-pack abs were exposed and he saw the scars on his skin. However, he forgot how they were inflicted. Then it was the cross tattoo, which gave him hope that he wasn’t crazy.
    The doctors couldn’t really give him an explanation of how the tattoo got on his chest, one day it showed up out of the blue. It was because of that, that it allowed him to believe that his dreams were real. Everyday was a painful reminder of how his dream was a nightmare. As a kid the man watched his mother and sister die in a house fire, and he and his father were the only survivors. However, death came, not long after, to take his father away, leaving the man to be stuck in this building.
    Everyday he heard in the back of his mind the screams of his family as the fire burned them alive, and he was forced to listen the painful memories of his mother and sister. That’s why he took the pills so that the screeching would halt. While the day flooded his mind with screams by night dreams invaded the mind. He dreamt that his family were still alive, that one day he would escape from the building and be saved. The man kept trying to sell the false hope to himself.
    The man took his morning pills, slipped on a clean white shirt, and walked outside the room into the hallway. In the hall nurses covered the area and to him he felt as if they were guards, trying to keep in from leaving; however, after 20 years he learned not to escape. He did try once to abandon this building but it didn’t end well, and later after being restrained inside his room Dr. Hillary visited him. Dr. Hillary was the head doctor inside the building, and while most of the time he stayed inside his office that one day he came out and talked to the man.
     It was made clear to the man that there was nowhere out of the building. Not to mention the fact that if by some miracle he could escape, then he would have to get off the island that the building stood on. He gave up long ago, so now he just walked through the hallway, moving closer to the kitchen where he would have breakfast and talk to his doctor, Dr. Phil.
He turned the corner and went straight, the kitchen in his sights until Dr. Phil stood in his way. “Why don’t we talk inside my office today, Anthony?” Dr. Phil asked him, but there was no choice in the matter. The doctors inside the building spoke like there was free will, but there wasn’t. It was something they learned before entering the building, they had to make it seem he  was the one in control, but Dr. Hillary made it very clear that he wasn’t.
     The man just nodded his head and followed behind Dr. Phil, his eyes staring down at the ground as he walked forward. It was in the matter of seconds that they came up to the door, which led to his office. Dr. Phil opened the door, turned the lights on, and went inside. The man, once again, following after. Behind the large desk Dr. Phil sat, and as for the man he just took a seat on one of the chairs.
     “Anthony, I just want to say that this is a safe place, like always, you are free to speak,” Dr. Phil explained, but the man knew it wasn’t. He wouldn’t talk to him, or anyone, his silence was the only thing that he had control over in this building. No one would take that away from him, not Dr. Phil, the nurses, or Dr. Hillary . . . no one.
    When Dr. Phil realized that he wasn’t going to talk to him, like always, he moved on to a different topic. “I heard your pills are working, but you keep hearing voices sometimes? Is this right?” The man nodded and Dr. Phil flipped through some of his papers, writing a few words down on them. “Well, to make sure you don’t hear the voices anymore we will be adding two more of pills onto your lunch meds. Is that okay with you, Anthony?” And again the man nodded. “Alright then, that’s all, thank you.”
     He stood up and walked out of the door, and in that moment he didn’t seem like eating, so he headed back to his room. Passing nurses and the kitchen he found himself in front of his door to the room. His fingers touched the cold metal as he turned the knob, pushing the door opened, staring at the emptiness around him.
     The man made his way to the bed and sat down on it, but then he saw something on top of the blanket . . . a phone. For a moment, he forgot what it was, he hadn’t seen a phone in ages. He studied the black metal device that flipped in half to show a keyboard, and saw inside the contact list a single number. His thumb hit the number and the phone began to dial and beep as the number shown on the screen.
      He pulled the phone to his face, close to his ear to hear the person on the other line. When the dialing and beeping stopped a female voice spoke, “. . . Hello? Anthony?! Is that you?” He didn’t respond. “You don’t have to talk, but please, just listen to me. This is very important . . . stop taking the drugs. We are coming for you, Anthony, please don’t listen to anything that they say. Mom and dad are safe and so am I . . . Anthony . . . you have to listen to me, you’ve been missing for a month. I love you, bro. I got to go, but I’ll see you soon, very soon . . . Bye.”

Headlights

There’s something about the way the headlights illuminate the road ahead that sends a shiver down your spine. They’re too bright. Too artificial. They only allow you to see a few feet ahead of yourself, like the darkness ahead is running away from the yellow beams chasing after it. It bends around the automobiles barreling down the road and pounds on the windows, begging to be let in, but still keeping secrets hidden in the feet in front of you. It doesn’t seem like real life, the edges of the road erased along with the forest surrounding it, erasing all the familiarity you had with the road. The asphalt bleeds into the overbearing blackness and joins it, morphing into a vacuum broken only by your obnoxious headlights. Those two bright rays disrupting the new, silent world created by the night. A world you’ve never been invited to be a part of. Maybe that’s why it scares you, because you’re the one out of place here. The world has gone to sleep, but you’re still wide awake. And your high beams are bringing light to where darkness deserved to be.

Roya's Plot Diagram - Masque of the Red Death

Songs of the ❤️

All I Want for Christmas  is My Two Teeth, By Aryan Deorah

I was running around my house energetically and excitedly driving my parents insane. It was 10:00 pm, which was well past my bedtime as a 5 year-old, on Christmas Eve, and all I was singing was, “All I want for Christmas is my two front teeth, my two front teeth, my two front teeth.” For most 5 year olds, they sang this song because they had lost their baby teeth in the front and want their permanent or “adult” teeth to grow in. However, for me, I sang this song because I had no front two teeth. Matter in fact, I never had them. I was born without my baby or permanent top incisors, so I couldn’t exactly talk properly, let alone pronounce my name correctly. An average school day would consist of me asking the teacher about something, she saying I can’t understand, and all of my classmates laughing at me and making fun of me. Also, in school, I would have to attend speech, where I would have to work on sounds, often with other kids who had speech problems or even mental disabilities. I wanted to get done with speech as soon as possible, so I attended often. My speech problems made it hard for me to communicate with anyone and get and keep friends. I became desperate for friendship, so I hung out with people who didn’t wanted to hang out with me and I became friends with people who were very rude and disrespected me, something which happened very often up until recently. Inside my home, I was very talkative and outgoing, but at school or anywhere else, I barely talked and often regretted when I did. This caused two very contrasting characters within myself, one who was me, and one who wasn’t. Even though I had a very supportive and understanding family, I felt like know one understood me, literally and metaphorically.

Things began to change when I went into later elementary school and middle school, for better or for worse. I had moved from Pennsylvania to Virginia, and though I missed my old home, I knew that I had a new slate as far as communication and making new friends. I began to think that my speech was great and almost normal, when it wasn’t anywhere close. I started to reject speech therapy and think that I was different and better than the other kids in speech, and eventually, I barely attended. I started to be more outspoken and talkative, and though that was good for my self-esteem, my two characters began to merge into one, I began to become more arrogant about speech and everything else in general. When the dental work on my teeth began in 6th grade with braces, I thought everything was going to be fixed, that I would be able to talk properly. However, the hard reality hit me. Kids would imitate my voice and mock it. They would keep asking me to repeat things just for a laugh. I started to be, angry, occasionally letting my anger out physically on my bullies. That, quite obviously, made the situation worse, because they overpowered me, and I thought there was no-one I could tell because I was the one who started the fight. I had more friends overall than I did in elementary school, but I made less long-term reliable friends. I started to become irritated with myself. After all, why did I, out of so many people, have to end up with this problem? I began to think there was no way to fix it. I became wallowed in self-pity, and I couldn’t shake it.

Finally, here I am, at the beginning of high school. I am not as arrogant and irrational like I was in middle school, and I have higher self esteem than I did in elementary school. I have made many friends, and even though there is no way to tell if they will be long term, I have a good feeling. I attend speech therapy often and my speech therapist is great, and I finally enjoy speech. Matter in fact, I have become friends with some of the other kids in my speech therapy group, who I previously would have thought insubordinate. Because of that, my speech is very close to normal and less than half of the people I meet notice or mention it. Barely anyone makes fun of me; I am just a happy, normal, but not really, teenager. The best part is that I am getting a special procedure so I will get my two teeth inserted near Christmas. But, is this really what I wanted? I love going to speech therapy, yet I am almost done. My speech is very good, and I already know what it feels like to have those twoteeth, because of a special retainer. To be honest, it isn’t very flattering. Not having those two teeth is normal for me, and the procedure may make my speech worse. I have realized, most people can’t even tell that I am missing two teeth. What is the point of spending a lot of money and getting my two teeth inserted? It feels so weird that now that I am about to receive something I have been craving ever since I could remember, and I don’t really want it. It leaves me asking,”Is all I want for Christmas my 2 teeth?”

Yusra's Creative Writing Blog

My Creative Writing

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Alida's Tree

From the beginning of time came the god of the sun of an ancient civilization, located in present day Netherlands . The name of Zon shook mountains and tore through earth, only for his own satisfaction of destroying. Zon was created out of nothing, but he only ruled everything because he generated a mass amount of fear within people. Zon’s twin brother, Maan, presided over the moon. The brothers watched over humankind on the planet Earth. Zon and Maan were polar opposites, Zon known for being boastful and arrogant, while Maan was more withdrawn.
For thousands of years, Maan thought Zon to be an unfit ruler. It troubled him to think the Earth’s fate resided in such a loathsome leader. Anger steamed and boiled within Maan. One day, he developed a plan to rid the world of Zon forever. Maan knew if he made a direct attack, Zon would defeat him. So he did something unexpected.
     About five thousand years ago from today, an ordinary human was having an extraordinary dream. Alida could have sworn the moon was talking in her dream. She heard him say, “I grant you the powers of a sorceress, to overthrow the tyrant Zon. Do this and be showered with riches beyond imagination. Fail, and receive a fate worse than death.”
    When Alida awoke, she soon found the message in the dream to be true. Alida had the power of a great sorceress and was able to manipulate anything to her will.
    For several weeks she taught herself how to use her new powers. Through her training, she learned from many suitable teachers who specialized in magic. As it seemed she was exceptionally gifted when using magic, it was not long until she became a powerful sorceress and was well known throughout the country. Every night she would receive a dream from Maan urging her to destroy Zon but her response was always, “When I am ready, I will fight him.”
    She was kindhearted and fair to the people of the Netherlands and she only used her magic for the benefit of the people, but after many seasons, her kindness turned into bitterness. Alida began to wonder why she should be so kind and helpful to these people when they had done nothing for her in return. Paired with the insistence from the moon god to kill Zon, she was driven over the edge.
    At first, it was small things. Ignoring distress calls of failing crops or letting the sick die. Villagers pestered and begged for Alida to help, but she was compelled indoors and kept to herself. The dilemma of wanting to lash out at every person she met or to assist the public was a constant storm within her mind. Eventually, one side won, and she began to attack at the most insignificant of things. She caused a few injuries to the villagers when they wouldn’t stop knocking on her wooden door. As time passed, Alida eventually burned houses, destroyed villages, and made it storm for days on end. Maan began to notice and confronted her in a dream.
    “Why are you destroying trees when you could be destroying my brother instead?” He asked. Something in Alida’s brain snapped. “Do not tell me what to do, you lazy oaf! With all my power, I could destroy you instead!”
    Maan roared, “Fool! Did you fail to heed my warning? Fear tomorrow, for it will be the first in eternal suffering.”
    When Alida woke to find she was all in one piece, she brushed off Maan’s threat and continued her day. While terrorizing locals, she began to feel nauseous.
    “That’s odd,” She remarked, “I do not get sick. I am certainly the most powerful being in the world! In fact, most might consider me a god.” She smirked and bellowed for all to hear, “Fear me, humans! For I am the goddess Alida of the Earth.”
    With this remark, thunder came rolling ahead in the sky and a violent flash of bright lightning struck the crown of her head. The voltage ran down to her feet and into the ground.
    “Who could have done such a thing?” She shrieked, her angry outburst echoing throughout the village.
    When there was no reply, Alida picked up her foot to walk and continue to pester the villagers, but her foot did not budge. She glanced down and noticed roots wrapping around her feet. She screeched and tried using bursts of magic to tear through the growing roots, but it persisted in wrapping around her. Bark and wood piled up against her skin and climbed up to her neck. A crowd began to gather around Alida to see what all the commotion was about.
    “Help me foolish mortals!” Alida wailed, “Help me or be tortured and destroyed!”
    The villagers murmured amongst themselves, but no one moved. Her cries of protest were soon muffled when the bark was fastened over her mouth. When Alida was covered completely, she began to grow branches and leaves. A voiced carried by the wind whispered through the villagers’ ears, “And here you will stay in eternal consciousness, incapable of breathing but forever unable to die. Here you will reside until the end of time.”
    The growing of the roots stopped and in place of Alida was a full grown English Oak tree. A still silence fell over the village.
    To this day, Alida’s tree still stands in the heart of the town. Legend states if you press an ear to the trunk of the tree, you can hear her wail, still screaming for somebody to help her.

The Voices

The Voices


By: Hannah Bowman





The voices.


They taunt me,


With their continuous laughter.





The voices.


They tell me,


Things that aren’t true.





The voices.


They help me,


Suppress feelings with a smile.





The voices.


They lead me,


To have bad intentions.





The voices.


They protect me,


From shedding a tear.





The voices.


They soothe me,


Singing words of hope.





The voices.


They keep me,





From letting it all out.

Personal Narrative

July 5th, 2016

Ramstein Air Force Base, Ramstein, Germany

7:30 am 3 hours before we had to leave

“Time to wake up, Ashlynn,” my mom said while opening the door to my room.

As I opened my eyes, I realized today was the day. The day my whole life changes, again. I didn’t want to move, but I had to. Leaving behind a life I was familiar with was always hard. I could feel it swiftly building up in the pit of my stomach. The panic always came with this feeling. I didn’t want to cry. Crying didn’t change the fact of what was happening. Sitting up to get ready I just went through the motions.

Walking into the dinky kitchen in our tiny TLF housing my mom said 2 hours and 30 minutes before we had to leave “Your dad went and got Dunkin Donuts for everyone”

All I could do was nod my head and walk past. The donuts only put more heaviness into my heart. The Dunkin Donuts place in the Exchange just opened. I mean I’m probably going to get it in America, but it just reminded me of the experiences I could’ve had with my friends there. My brother and sister were sitting on the couch watching Teen Titans Go. Looks like they had everything they needed. Nobody was at the table, so I sat there enjoying my donuts the best I could.

“Ash you have 15 minutes to get the rest of your stuff together hurry up” my dad expressed.

“I know, dad,” I exclaimed, getting up to throw away the rest of my trash.

I left my phone and kindle plugged in for a few more minutes. The time flew by; next thing I know I’m walking outside to where our friends are standing. Mr. Andrew and Ms.  Kim the parents of one of my best friends.

“Hey Ashlynn,” Ms.Kim said in her overly happy voice.

Chucking my bags in the back her car I walked over to Mr.  Andrew’s car to hop in. I waited and waited. Every second that passed the feeling would keep growing. Hate is a strong word, but I used it for these feelings. I felt anxious, sad, stressed. “Finally,” I thought as my dad and Mr.  Andrew rushed into the car. I looked at all the familiar things as we passed by. All the houses were exactly the same color, but each had its own unique feel to it. Kind of like a million different stars in the sky, each one looks the same when you look at it from the ground, but when you got closer you could see the difference . The dancing and karate studio were exactly the same color as the houses.Next door,  the grass of the soccer field was as green as Mike Wazowski, you know that green guy from Monsters Inc. Donnelly Park was right next to the soccer field, and it was a couple of blocks down from my house. This park wasn’t any fun anymore after they took out the slides on the hill. The streets were all named after a state form the US. Mine was Vermont Circle, the street I lived on for the past 4 years. My house 1063 B was right across from Mr.  Andrew’s and Ms.  Kim’s.

Gabby and her sisters were waiting outside on the porch to say goodbye. Even though I’ve only known Gabby for a year and a half, it feels like I’ve known her my whole life.

“Hey Ashlynn,” Gabby said while I got out of the car.

“Hey Gabby,” I tried my best to fake a smile but I couldn’t.

“I guess this is goodbye.” Gabby exclaimed.

“I guess so,” I said.

Hugging her family was easier than hugging her. Blinking the tears back I pulled away. I smiled one more time at my best friend,  a person who I’ve grown close to in the past year and a half.

By the time we got to the airport we had an 1 hour and 30 minutes. Walking towards the front I saw Jaycee and her family standing there. Before walking in, my parents wanted a picture of all the kids.

“Say goodbye Germany,” Mrs. Jennifer said while taking her picture.

Reaching the stairs we had to find our gate. Stopping by another gate we said goodbye. I saved hugging Jaycee for last. As I hugged her she started crying.

“ You're gonna make me cry,” I said.

“ I can’t help it,” she exclaimed between each heart wrenching sob.

“This isn’t a goodbye though this is just a see you later,”  I told her trying to hold back my own  tears.

As we waved goodbye one last time we turned to walk up the stairs. Waiting in the long line at security was hard. 1 hour and 30 minutes turned to 1 hour. By the time we sat down in the waiting area we only had to wait 15 minutes. The time finally hit 11:00; we could board now. The past 4 years were the best of my life. I wouldn’t trade them for anything. I met friends I’ll have for the rest of my life. As I sat on the seat when the plane started to take off I realized it was time to let go. So I did. A new adventure was going to start when this plane landed. Who knows what it would bring? It was finally time for a new start.

Dance

                                                                           Dance

It’s enchanting.

When you leap you fly like a bird;

When you dance you portray a role.

You feel as if you’re the character.

Your eyes twinkle;

Your soul fills with music;

Your feet swaying with your body.

Your emotions pouring into the dance.

Happy, Angry, Sad, Scared.

You dance everywhere.

You dance for laughter;

You dance for tears;

You dance for hope;

You twirl, leap, spin, jump.

It’s an alluring feeling.

So get up!

Dance as though no one is watching.

It’s magnificent.

It has the power to heal anything.

Dance like no one is watching!                                                           
                         

Striving for Balance By Isha Iftikhar

Striving for Balance 

By Isha Iftikhar 

Life is marked by highs and lows. 

Both are essential to appreciate what we already possess. 

You should strive for balance. 

A balance between the high points in your life.  

A balance between the low points in your life. 

You should never give up through the lows, 

and always stay humble through highs. 

The highest point in your life is like Mount Everest. 

The lowest point in life is like the Dead sea. 

They’re on opposite ends of the earth, 

But both, like life, signify as a high or low point. 

Without one you wouldn’t appreciate the other. 

So stay hopeful through the lows. 

Stay humble through the highs, 

and strive for balance no matter which way your life tips, 

creating your own path.