Aspiring fiction writer based in Charlottesville, Virginia
The Day We Did It
Look, I don’t expect you to understand. Let me guess, they haven’t even tried to upload the first mind to a computer yet? They haven’t had hundreds of years — and thousands of prisoners of war from World War V to experiment on- to perfect every single aspect of the technology? To finally be able to transfer consciousness, combine consciousness, clone consciousness, erase and alter memories? Create life but destroy the fabric of society on the whims of six men with code and wires and whiteboards who only cared about what they could do and not what they should do?
I'm Proud of My Culture, But Not Too Proud
It’s pretty typical for first generation Americans to “grow into” their culture. If you’ve been around the block a few times you know the routine. Grow up getting teased for your culture, mocked by stereotypes, and trying desperately to “blend in.” Eventually, you go to college, make more friends within your culture, maybe even join an ethnic dance group, cultural organization, or religious organization. Four years fly by and you graduate with a newfound appreciation and love for your culture.
Why Rejection in College is Good for You
Let me guess. You think that getting rejected is a personal failure, and that everyone who did better than you is superior in every way. Maybe you even wonder how everyone seems so much smarter, more attractive and more athletic than you. You handle rejection all wrong when you think less of yourself. I’m here to tell you that being rejected was one of the best things that ever happened to me, because I guarantee you that you will face at least one major rejection in college.
The Easiest Choice
“Bonobos, like all apes, do not practice permanent monogamous relationships with their partners. With the exception of mothers and their sons, no sexual activity is off-”
I Will Never Stop Loving You
When you leaned over and whispered in my ear that you loved me, I wished to stay with you forever. The moment was perfect: you were perfect. I’d known I was in love with you since the first day of freshman year when you asked if I could help you kill a bug in your dorm and you had to repeat yourself because I kept getting lost in your eyes as you told me the story of a monster cockroach terrorizing you and your roommate (it was the smallest bug I had ever seen). And from that day forward we were best friends. You dragged me out of bed at eight every morning so I wouldn’t miss my first class like I usually did, sneaking a granola bar in my bag too so I wouldn’t miss breakfast. I bought you red bull and cookies every time you had a test that you waited until the last day to study for. You told me about the time you fixed a bird’s broken wing in sixth grade and how it would come sit on the tree branch outside your room every day after that and how that made you want to be a vet. I told you about how my best friend got charged with grand larceny for stealing some baseball cards he didn’t know were worth five thousand dollars and how that made me want to be a lawyer. We walked back together from the library every weekday night and from the bars every weekend night; I always made sure to walk on the curb side. We would start going back sooner and sooner as we realized there was nobody else we would rather be around (even if you insisted you were simply “more productive” in my room). Eventually my heart would beat so fast every time I was with you that I couldn’t help but feel like I was in danger. My young mind hadn’t yet realized that is the definition of love: a state of danger. And I never felt more in danger when I finally told you how I felt and my face turned red and I could only take shallow breaths. But you made everything better with just four words: “I feel the same.” It was so magical it almost felt fake. It’s been sixty years and it still feels fake that someone like you would like someone like me.
I thought being vegan could change my life, that cutting out meat and dairy would solve all my problems and make me a better person. But meat tastes really really good.
“Don’t think about it! Do it right now!” The child held the rusty machete over his left ankle, wondering what he did in his past life to have such awful karma. Ruhan closed his eyes and lifted the sword, reminding himself that beggars without all four limbs get thousands more rupees than beggars with.
“What language do you speak at home?” “Just English,” I reply apologetically, emphasizing the "just," hoping the topic will change.