That Day
By Jasmin Garcia (12/16) 
     I remember you coming home late at night, smelling like Italian food and carrying a bag of bread. I remember you cooking breakfast and sitting alone with me and talking about your life in Mexico and telling me about how I'm going to love it there. The day you had to leave was one of the worst days of my life. Everything came tumbling down and that day taught me a few things. One, I can’t trust people and two, everyone’s not truly happy.
     When I was younger I lived in a happy home with my mom, dad, and two older brothers. My parents loved each other, they never got into a big fight, they seemed like the perfect couple like in those movies. I thought they were truly happy so I didn’t pay much attention to them. I worried about stuff like whether I did my homework or what toy I was going to bring for recess. My dad worked two jobs so when he had the day off and my mom worked he would try to spend as much time with me and my siblings as he could. My older brothers wanted to play with their games, so it would sometimes just be me and my dad. I would say I was closer with my dad than with my mom. My dad told me everything and I learned a lot of things from listening to him talk about his life. So, when everything started to come down I went down as well.
     The taste of Fruity Pebbles filled my mouth as I started to notice something. I was sitting in the kitchen with my two brothers and my mom. When my dad walked in, I remember them not even looking at each other as if they had never met. I had this feeling in my stomach, but I didn’t know if it was because I was sensing something bad going on or if it was the cereal. I went to school trying not to think about it too much, but it was in the back of my head.
     One day I came home and we all went upstairs to my grandma’s house. They put us in my cousin’s room and I heard screaming coming from the living room. My oldest brother tried to distract us by putting on some funny videos, but I could still hear my parents arguing. I went to go look and I saw my dad. He was so angry. I was surprised because my dad never got that angry so I knew something serious was going on. After I saw my dad like that I really don’t remember anything else.
     A few days went by and everything was still the same. Then the day came. I woke up to get in the shower and my dad called me to his room. He told me that he had to leave, that my mom kicked him out. Tears filled my eyes and I asked him why. My dad explained what my mom did and I started crying as if someone had passed. My dad couldn’t hold in his tears. He told me that he loved her and he didn’t understand why she would have done this. I didn’t speak to anyone that whole day. I just sat in my room and cried. I was devastated, but also on the inside I began to feel angry. I have no idea why, but I just did.
     A few days passed and my dad called me, saying he missed me. I couldn’t speak without sounding like if I was about to cry. He told me that every weekend I could be with him.
     Every weekend I went to go spend time with my dad. He found a place to stay so I could sleep over. I remember one day he had just bought himself a bed and while he was fixing it I just looked at him and I could tell that he was still hurting. I broke down crying and then he did the same and we just sat there holding each other and crying. I never wanted to leave my dad. I love him so much and that day just tore us apart.
     The day he left changed everything. At the moment my parents are happy. I now have two younger sisters that are from my dad's side and I have a little brother that my mom had and sometimes I think about that day and I try not break down, but it still hurts just as much as it did before. All this has made me stronger and more mature.
     One thing that I learned that is really important is that life isn’t all about fairy tales and Disney movies; you’re going to go through rough stuff and you’re going to have to be strong no matter what. That’s how life works.  

Rage
By Chelsey Jara (12/16)
     A lot of people anger me. A lot of things anger me. I usually get bashed for my uncontrollable rage, but recently I haven’t been giving a care in the world. It would be dishonest of me to claim that I’m not angry as I’m writing this. Some people, more than others, anger me so much, I’d rather bite the inside of my lip until I bleed than stare at their idiotic faces. Most people have my respect, but the moment you anger me that respect vanishes and will never be seen or earned again. Today alone, several people have angered me beyond the point of reconciliation. I know that in a fit of wrath I say or do things I’ll regret, but why should I stop? Why should I keep quiet? Why should I have to listen to a moronic, ignorant, brain-dead imbecile? I simply don’t see the common sense in that. I know that my temper is oftentimes unbearable or even barbaric. But something I will always defend about my rage is that I never act on it with violence. Yes, I will say foul, vile, and unforgivable things, but using violence to resolve an issue is never one of them.
     I don’t know why I become so angry; maybe it’s because I am less tolerant than most people. Maybe it’s because I’m too close to a situation to see that I’m the problem. Or maybe astrology is correct and I’m so full of rage because I am an Aries. Whatever the cause may be, all I know is that I am angry.
    I am the type of person to keep quiet about my annoyance until something or someone pushes the final button. I will attack whoever angered me. I will make the person feel insignificant and worthless, until I feel better. I will bring up the past and things they have done. I will mention mothers, fathers, siblings, and friends. I will not pick at their appearance, but their mentality. I do not need anyone to tell me I am wrong or that I am tactless. I know I am wrong. I know I am tactless. I know that I am an insensitive, heavy-handed brute. But unlike many others, I accept this. I do not hide my traits, nor do I suppress them. I speak my mind and will never hold back. Perhaps my anger can never be justified.     All I know is that I am ANGRY.

Worst Experience
By Jayline Torres (12/16)
     Most four year olds can jump on their trampolines for hours and so could I, until one day in the Summer of 2006. That summer I had a horrible and scary moment in my life. I just thank God that I’m still living today.
     On a sunny hot day, as I was jumping on my trampoline with my cousin, I started to feel light headed and dizzy. I stopped to take a break, and then I felt better so I went back to jumping. Seconds, minutes, and hours passed until it hit 4:30. I fell to the floor and everything went pitch black. I felt as if the world was upside down.
     I couldn’t see anything but I was able to hear the ambulance and I could hear my mom screaming. I could feel the paramedics pushing my chest down and then giving me oxygen and calling my name.  
     When I got to the hospital I couldn’t open my eyes because I was still blacked out.They told my mom that I needed to go into “emergency surgery” because blood was draining from a hole in my heart!
     I had had a problem with my heart when I was born, September 28, 2002. The doctors told my mother that I was going to be born with a “murmur” in my heart, but they were going to keep an eye on it to see if it would close. As time passed, 2005 came, and the doctors said that it had closed by itself and that I didn’t need to worry about anything.
But here I was in the hospital. I was so nervous and lost that I didn't know what was going on. All I knew was that I was in deep pain and my vision was so dark that I only saw the room as pitch black. I could hear the doctors talking and when I was sleeping I could hear a voice telling me “you will get better soon” or “you're coming up”. 
     Days passed by and I finally got to open my eyes. The first thing I saw when I opened my eyes was myself in a hospital bed with machines and pouches on my chest. I started to ask myself why I was there, lying in a long white hospital bed while all my friends and cousins were out playing around. I could see my mom starting to cry as I asked her why I was there.
     She told me that I was there because I had a heart murmur and they had to close it. She said it crying, in a low tone. She told me that I had to stay in the hospital for a couple of weeks until I got better.
     I stayed in the hospital for two weeks and I recovered. I thank God for letting me live. Many people look at me and think I’ve been through an easy life and everything is okay, and it is. But you never know what a person may have been through.

Agape Love
By Samantha Sims (12/16)
    I befriended a broken girl who lost her mother this year. Her mother was deaf, but she heard every word her daughter didn’t speak. This girl worried for an extensive number of months once her mother was diagnosed with cancer for the second time. One day, a boy told her that the only cure for cancer was death and my friend began to believe him as her mother got sicker. On an innocuous Sunday morning, her mother passed away. 
    For the majority of my life, I placed the blame. I victimized myself, avoiding responsibility and pretending that I was some type of saint. Meanwhile, I gossiped about others, not caring how it affected them. I walked over my friends and family as if they were a raggedy rug, taking advantage of their kindness. I compared myself to everyone and concluded that I was “better.”
    Too many horrible things happen to wholesome people. There is this ravenous cycle of good people being deprived of their innocence as if their good deeds mean nothing. History continues to repeat itself, giving good people the short end of the stick.
    To stop this continual cycle, I believe we must express agape. Agape is translated to “love” from Greek. It differs from other types of love like eros, philia, ludus, pragma, and philautia because it’s not based on friendship, sex, playful or longstanding love, or a love for oneself. It is described as love for everyone. To me, agape means to show open love to strangers, friends, and family. By showing agape, we can make someone’s life just a tad bit easier by being kind without egotistical motives.
    I didn’t know that my friend’s mother was not well until a few months before her death. Up until her mother’s death, all I could care about was myself. When I think about how I treated my friend during that time period, I realize that I had been unsupportive. I was focused on petty things, not trying to see the bigger picture.
     You never know what someone could be going through at home. It is ethical to be kind to all people for this specific reason. Even if they aren’t going through anything at all, it’s just nice to be nice.