I have so many missing assignments in school. Mental breakdown ensues, but that’s ok because I have soup in the fridge. Mmmmm.

Next day, Band is awful, I screwed up my parts and ruined my music. It’s alright, I have some leftover soup waiting for me in the fridge once I get home. Mmmmmm, soup.

I wake up the next day, greeting my mother in the kitchen while I whip up some cereal - wait, could that be considered soup? Oh well. Mother smiles at me.

“I went shopping last night because we were out of milk and decided to get that soup you like.”

I am grateful. Soup is good. Especially with bread. Mmmmm, soup.

Later that same night, I throw some soup in the microwave and slice off a piece of bread to dip in the soup. I spread butter on it to make the flavour even smoother. Mmmmm, soup is good.

Everyday is soup. What is life? Soup? It’s a loop. Every day I look in the fridge to see more soup. I eat it, and there’s even more. I’m going insane, it’s a soup loop. The letters in soup are looking foreign to me. I eat this, every day, and I will continue to eat it for the rest of my miserable life. Soup is good. Soup is good. Soup, soup, soup. Soup. Broccoli cheese, french onion, it changes every day. Soup is versatile. Is cereal a soup? With a milk base and the main cereal accents, I think cereal is a soup. Another part of my miserable soup diet. I wake up and eat soup. I pull out a thermos at lunch and eat alphabet soup. I heat some soup up in the microwave for dinner. Soup. Life is soup, soup is all I need. Soup.

An Interesting Turn of Events

It was a gloomy, chilly, windy, gray and all around bleak day. The gray clouds swallowed the normally blue skies of the university. On days like these, most people would stay inside to avoid the mood of the world around them. On the rooftop of one of the buildings, though, sat a boy. He was around 6 feet tall wearing a bright, rainbow-colored shirt. He sat near the edge of the rooftop with a picture in his hands. The picture was simply of the same boy but with an awkward smile. Most people would have seen it and felt embarrassed, embarrassed enough to throw it away but the boy just stared at it blankly. He folded the picture up, put it into his pocket, and began to stand up. He walked to the very edge of the roof and stood there expressionless, the very same face he had made looking at the picture. He stood there for a few seconds before he heard a door open up from behind and what came out was a girl. She ran quickly out of the doorway and caught up to the boy. She was around 5 feet 9 inches wearing a plain gray hoodie and was very sweaty.

“There you are,” she said panting, “I looked all over the University to find you: I looked in the main university building, the dining halls, and even near the city. I even looked in the frickin alleyways and near some of the dumpsters when I found you just sitting up there doing absolutely nothing.”

“I’m sorry but you must have the wrong person,” he said bluntly.

“You are Terry Weaver, right?”

“I am,” he remarked, “but it doesn’t seem that I know you.”

“You don’t know me? I’m literally in your physics class. We don’t even have that many people and I literally sit right near you, heck the professor takes attendance every day and you don’t even recognize me… Well, whatever, my name is Sabrina Parem, sorry for getting a bit fired up there.”

“It’s fine, I really don’t care either way,” he said impassively, “Why do you want to see me?”

“It’s just…… Physics is difficult and I am having a bit of a hard time. I’ve heard that you are pretty smart and I thought that I could ask for your help. Would you be willing to help me out?” She said with puppy dog eyes.

Terry thought about this for a while………hmmmmmmmmmmmm…. “Sure… I’ll help you out,” he said in a tone that was neither positive nor negative.

“Are you sure, you don’t seem very enthusiastic about it?” she said confusedly.

“I’m sure. Are we going to do it here though, it’s kinda windy?” he asked.

“No! Of course we will go somewhere else. How about we meet later at the Springborne Park at 6:00 tonight?”

“Sure,” and the two of them exchanged phone numbers and parted ways for the time being. For the next little while he pondered on what possessed him to care enough to decide to help the girl. There must be something special about her

A strange man walking in the night.

Fingertips made of glass.

A stick under his feet.

He tripped over the stick.

He yelped as he fell.

He instinctively tried to catch himself,

Only to land on his hands.

The glass shattered,

The man shook and cried out,

The hands covered in blood and broken glass.

Ironically,

All he thought was,

“How can I write with my beat up hands?”

While I can write about any story revolving around my childhood, sometimes the things I remember most vividly are the my meaningless observations. This includes repetitive actions like looking out of the window of a car and simply watching the road go by or swinging back and forth. These actions would always keep me calm and I would just drift off into space. I honestly don’t know why my mind specifically remembers these almost surreal experiences sometimes but whenever I think about them, I feel very nostalgic and it fills me with a strange childlike joy.

To me, love is a set of complex emotions that signify a significant emotional connection to someone or something else.

Most people seem to feel it in very similar ways but the way it is described differs from person to person.

The way people describe love differs based on the types of relationships that they have with those around them.

I think that love is a very important part of what makes us humans. Our desire to support others we have an attachment to displays the best parts of us as a whole. While we may all be imperfect in some way, shape, or form, humans will always form connections to each other to mitigate the pains of imperfection.

“Ah Batman, it seems you have caught me while I was making my grand escape. Let me tell you though, are you really doing the right thing? In fact, my plan was really to sell the stolen Diamond of Avariciousness to give to the people who need it: extremely poor people in need of more cash, the homeless who are often left to rot on the streets, and orphans suffering from a lack of parents. I am a modern day Robin Hoo...”

*Ka-Pow*, a sound rang out as Batman punched the self-proclaimed “Robin Hood” so hard it knocked him out cold. “Likely story, even I can sniff out a lie so obvious” Batman said before calling the police.

My favorite internet legend is the L is Real myth. It comes from the popular N64 game “Super Mario 64” and it started back in the early 2000’s when people interpreted a sign on a statue to say that “L is Real.” This prompted many people to believe that Luigi was a secret, unlockable character in the game. Many conspiracy stories and videos popped up of people “supposedly” unlocking Luigi through a specific set of actions. All of these videos were pretty much fake but many kids, including me and my brothers, believed them anyways. My brothers and I would spend time trying to unlock Luigi only for it to not work. For a long time “L is Real” was just a memory in the back of my head until data miners recently found the model of Luigi in the depths of the game’s files. It was like a dream come true seeing that Luigi was in the game, and, although he wasn’t unlock-able, he was there, hidden in the files the whole time. Using the files of Luigi, people managed to put him back together like Frankenstein’s monster and the original model of Luigi was finally made. Due to my nostalgia and interest with the mystery, this legend will always go down as a favorite of mine concerning internet legends.