Essays
As first semester freshman year rolled to a close I received a formal invitation in the mail. The type was in cursive, the letters embossed, congratulating me for ranking in the top 5 GPA for Latino students in my grade. My mother beamed with pride, but I couldn’t echo the sentiment. Instead my heart sank, the words reverberating in my head: Latino Student Achievement Award. Hastily shoving the envelope in the depths of my junk drawer, I neglected to acknowledge its existence…
Last April I decided that I wouldn’t let my summer go to waste. This thought wasn’t anything new; it’s something that crosses my mind every year, a never-ending ritual. This vacation, I reassure myself, is going to be eventful. These next few weeks I will be productive— I’ll go to bed early in order to start the next day off with 9 hours of sleep, go on morning runs, cook myself healthy meals, read one book per week, meet up with old friends, go on outings with my sister, challenge myself to learn German, start writing a novel…
Short Stories
Set in a dystopian future, The Standard is a literary critique of the norm that has become standardized testing.
In an effort to encourage higher performance rates, an organization named “The Board” was created as a breeding ground for productive members of society. With all forms of creative expression banned as distractions, students are forced to wear bland colors and follow a strict ritual. His first day in the system, Lucas navigates his way around the strange world, trying to grasp why everybody appears to be unquestioning and obedient. Readying himself to accept his destined fate as a drone, he meets a girl named Annie who proposes another option.
I often find myself over analyzing situations and over processing past conversations. This can bring forth layers of anxiety and stress as different circumstances with different outcomes linger and plague my train of thought. This picture perfect projection is not real. Yet, here I am attached to a scene I loathe because despite all this, I’m unwilling to move. I’m afraid to stray too far from a land where I know right from wrong, good from bad. Amongst these people, I’m not drowning; I’m forced to stay upright…
Poetry