This piece was written about living in my own head, during a time that I was happy. Throughout the writing I hope to display a feeling of nostalgia and sorrow. Hoping to bring the reader back to a similar place in time from their own lives.

I was inspired by some of my favorite TV shows and fiction tropes to make a sort of horror comedy short story about a teenage boy’s twisted fantasy. I took inspiration from one of my favorite songs for the title.

This is a personal piece to me, apart of this writing is from an essay I did entitled Sex, Money, Drugs, and Jesse Pinkman, but for the purpose of keeping it within length guidelines I edited and reworked it into this.

This piece goes through my relationship with the seemingly repetitive task of taking out the trash.

My poem is a personification of fall into a person’s thinking about different standards on viewing things. Fall has the ultimate beauty and is considered as a wide attraction not only for artists but for common people as well.

We fight in the names of our countries, for a cause. But at the end of day we forget that we are all same. Is the bloodshed justified?

This is a poem that was never supposed to exist, according to society. Kids should always be quiet and bear burdens of unspeakable pain. But no longer. This poem is a mix of dialogue, counting down, and introspective thoughts.

Perhaps the most valuable lesson I've learned in high school is that I live in a generation of brick walls. Me included. Being the ones stuck with only our own company for a crucial developmental year, we’ve somewhat lost the ability to bend. To put ourselves in another’s shoes, to meet someone at eye level.

(CW: sexual implications) Originally a longer piece, "(a)sexual tension" expresses the desire for intimacy beyond the norm of romance and sex, the frustrations of having a female body and the sexualization of Asian women. I've been a hopeless romantic since the day I mistook feelings of friendship for a crush in elementary.

I wrote this piece for a 100-word microfiction project to reflect my changing mindset toward my culture. Growing up in an immigrant household, I always felt a ghost in my community, lingering between the realms of the American and Indian worlds—present in both but fully anchored in neither. I suppressed my Indian side until recently, as I've come to realize I can't be myself until I embrace all of my identity.

My first poem, "for m", was written about a friend of mine, who isn't one I would like to lose. Originally it was more light-hearted, but this version reflects the truth that I feel I must tell about her struggle. My second poem is called "lost", which is about my own feelings about the vastness of the world and being left behind.

With suicide rates in the United States increasing rapidly by each year, I felt that it was necessary to raise awareness for the thousands of people suffering. "Two Hundred and Twenty Feet" explores more of the analytical side of suicide, focusing on the two thousand people who have jumped off the Golden Gate Bridge to further relate to the community in my area.

I wrote this piece in class when every patch of my academic competence had dried into dust. Sometimes I can my writing mind teetering into this other eccentric place. Usually, I ignore this side, re frame from any of its odd aspects, but on this special day: hot and estranged from my studies, it only felt right to follow its voice.

The Far Shore was a practice piece to develop descriptions of each of the five senses. The creative process involved researching Japanese and Chinese spiritual beliefs about life after death, taking particular inspiration from Buddhist ideology surrounding the salvation of all souls.

My piece titled “In Dreams” is about a young man named Harry. Harry has dreams of himself as a child in a house and is being haunted by a creature. Through therapy sessions with Dr. Elisa Shaul many of Harrys’ secrets are uncovered. My piece covers themes such as repressed memories of childhood trauma.

A Poem On Life And How It Should Be Led. Life Is Beautiful.

In this piece, I wanted to make a comparison of an angel to my life as a non-binary teenager in today’s oh, so confusing world. Acceptance of the fact that I was different from most of my friends and family was a fact that made me ashamed for years, but when I touched the gate, when I accepted my fluidness as a part of who I am, I felt at peace.

Look at the Flowers I Got You is a short fiction that shows but a small fraction of what grief can feel like when a loved one is gone. I find it intriguing when the same phrase is used at the beginning and end of a story with a different tone because it shows the impact that context has on a sentence.

TW: allusions to SA. This is a testament to my trauma and what I had gone through when I was a child and how I still persevered despite it and currently going through a long but difficult path to healing.

it is based mostly on a real story between me and a friend with name changes for confidential