text: The school bell rings. School is over, and I run to my locker and grab my backpack. I run outside to the bus, and I take my seat towards the back. I am always one of the first few people on the bus. The bus starts to fill with my classmates who sit with their friends. I make myself small in anticipation. A group of seven fifth graders sit in the back around me. We have an agreement where I won’t acknowledge them, and they don’t acknowledge me. I don’t pay attention to their conversations as it is rude to eavesdrop. The bus leaves the school, and I start to head home. On the way back, I see a basketball group assembling in the backyard for practice. My parents insist on getting me to play a sport every year. I always tell them that I am too clumsy for sports. Gym class is the riskiest time for me; my lack of athletic ability is on full display. The other students go from ignoring me to disliking me. I keep quiet and wait for it to be over. Sometimes, I am clever enough to find a way to excel at a sport. The students always cheer for me in shock, and I find their screams worse. Why do they have to be so loud? When the bus reaches my stop, the fifth-graders let me out of my seat. Occasionally, I am forced to get off the next stop by people who hate me. When I get to my house, I pull out my key and open the door. Right beside the door, there is a brochure. I sigh. I wonder what my parents will want me to do this time. I take off my shoes, and I run up stairs. When I reach my room, I pull out my notebook and start scribbling. The contents are a mystery to everyone except for me. It is a log of my adventures. There is an intergalactic society, a magic kingdom, an international spy organization, a superhero team, and so much more in this notebook. I have traveled to far away galaxies and other dimensions. I have survived a trip to the core of the sun and the day of the dinosaurs extinction. Even small things are grand adventures like the time I helped the elderly woman with crops or when I repaired a ship in space. I hear a knock on the door. “Hey Jamie, so I know you like your notebook so I was looking up various camps for you. I found this program ran by the community college that lets kids learn about exciting things that aren’t taught in school. There is a course on the science of Star Wars. I think you should look into it,” he says. “No thanks,” I say. He sits next to me on the bed. “Just listen. Your mother and I are worried about you. You usually go straight to your room after you get home. We’d like you to start trying new things,” he says. “I am trying new things in my notebook,” I say. I avoid his gaze. I always see disapprovement in his eyes. “Son, we mean new activities. We think it would be good for you. It’d be a chance for you to make some friends at school,” he says. “I did make a friend. Remember Quinn,” I say. “Quinn was not a good friend,” he says. I shrug. My parents didn’t like him because his parents let him dye his hair black, and they were worried he would be a bad influence on me. We see each other at school, but they will not let us hangout after school. “Look all I am saying is consider it. You might like it,” he leaves the brochure next to me. “That’s what you said about basketball camp,” I say. “Son, we told you that you never tried which is why you hated that camp. Please just try this,” he walks out of the room. I look at the brochure and start to flip through the pamphlet. Maybe I should take one of these courses. It could help with my writing. I did make a version of basketball that was played in space from the basketball camp. My parents didn’t understand why I was doing it, but at least, they are trying to understand me. I see a course called Harnessing Your Imagination. I look at my notebook. Maybe they were able to find a place for me. *Adolescent Tribulations* “Jamie, supper time,” I hear my mom yell. I sigh and leave my computer. I walk down the stairs, but I trip and fall on the last few stairs. My sister is standing there laughing at me. “Do we need to get you a Life Alert? Seeing as how you are always falling,” she says. “Shut up, Katie,” I stand up. “Is that all you have for a comeback?” she smiles at me. “Yep, your opening insult was so bad that I am not going to justify it with a proper response,” I reply. “What?” her smile fades, and I have thrown her off-guard. “It didn’t make sense. You are the one that fell in front of Quinn and ruined your chances of dating him,” I reply. “Mom, Jamie is being mean to me,” she explodes. “James stop being mean to your sister and come sit down at the dinner table, you too,” mom says. “I would stop being mean to her if you would start calling me James all the time and not just when I am in trouble,” I say. Dad sighs. “Son, can we please have a nice family dinner? I understand that you have an obligation to rebel as a teenager, but please let’s all enjoy each other’s company,” he says. I shrug and sit-down. The hunger in my stomach is overwriting the other moods that I feel. I grab a plate of lasagna and salad, and I am sure to sit away from Katie since she will steal my food. “So how was everyone’s day,” mom asks. “Fine,” I say. “Great. Olivia and I were invited to Ava’s pool party this weekend,” Katie says with a grin. “Ava,” mom’s brow furrows,” Isn’t her sister Taylor in your grade, Jamie. I mean James.” “Yeah, I don’t talk to her,” I say. “She is too cool for him,” Katie says. I ignore her comment. “Katie please don’t start it at the dinner table,” mom says. I quickly finish what’s on my plate and leave. “Wait, please don’t leave. We would like to talk some more,” mom says. “I don’t,” I walk up to my room and sit at my computer. I start watching streamers and playing games alone. I hear my dad knock on my door. “Sorry that your sister can be passive-aggressive, your mother and I talked to her about it after you left,” he says. “Thanks,” I say. “Are you writing again?” he asks with a smile. “Nope,” I reply. “Oh, that’s a shame. I thought you had a real talent for it,” he says. “Guess I didn’t,” my dad stands in the door, “Bye dad.” He leaves. I debate whether I should yell for him to return so I can explain why I don’t write anymore. After I took my first writing course, I refined my raw imagination into cohesive stories. The quality varied from unreadable to passable, but it was a consistent source of happiness. I felt invincible as a writer because I was fully in control of the narrative. Katie was the one who took that control. She stole one of my weaker stories where I was a space knight saving the galaxy from an evil serpentine race. It featured your standard child writing tropes: a plot that made little sense, constant space battles, and awkward dialogue. She read it with her friends Ava and Olivia to laugh at me. Ava’s sister Taylor found the story and showed it to her friends. Within a week, that story was the bane of my existence. One particular line was constantly used to taunt me. “You’ve shed your last skin, Vipro.” In the story, it was supposed to be the hero’s triumphant moment. In my life, it was emblematic of the lowest point in my life. After a few months, everyone forgot most of the story except for that line. Within a year, they pretty much stopped mentioning it unless they saw me writing for unrelated reasons. I rarely hear it now, but my reputation as a dreadful writer stuck and alienated me from my class. I never write now for fear of derision, and I still hold a degree of resentment towards Katie. Katie never apologized for stealing my story. I don’t think she ever will. If I brought it up to her now, she would tell me to get over it. My parents are dismayed that I failed at something else, but I am content with their disappointment. They won’t mock me for it, and if I’m not being mocked, then I am safe. *Adult Tragedies* James walks up the stairs and feels a sharp pain in his knees. These stairs aren’t that steep. He curses his failing body as he walks into the church. Funerals are an odd setting. No one knows what they’re doing. They are wandering around filling the time before it starts. James walks to the front row and settles into an edge seat. He hopes that no one talks to him. He cannot handle the emotional labor. His hopes are quickly dashed as multiple people take the opportunity to quickly speak with him. He forces a smile to avoid being rude, but he wants to be alone. More people start to enter the church and greet him. He finally sees his mom and uncle, Luke, enter. Both of them have red around their eyes. They go up to the stage. The funeral starts with full pews except for a small spot next to James. He looks around for Kate, but she is nowhere to be seen. James dissociates at the start of the funeral and misses every speech and song. He doesn’t want to believe it’s happening. Someone nudges him to stand to carry the casket. He can’t believe that it's over so quickly. Time passes faster now. He carries the casket with his relatives out of the church to the car. He gets into the vehicle and follows the procession to the burial. He has driven down these roads so many times. This is where he first learned to drive with his father, and now, he is driving on them to lay him to rest. When James arrives at the cemetery, he looks for a car or a person by the plot. The burial workers are the only people there. James carries the casket to the plot and watches it be lowered into the hole. He turns to his car to go back to the church for the repast. He grabs his sandwich and meats off the trays as well as a glass of water. He sits at the closest table to the front that has been reserved for family. His mother and Luke set their plates down by him, but they quickly leave to socialize with the crowd. They know that he isn’t much of a talker. His mom leaves her dog Terry on a leash by the table for James to watch. He always liked Terry, and he pets her between bites. His sister sits down next to him with a plate of food and a glass of wine. “Hey James, how’ve you been,” she smiles at James and accidentally reveals the lipstick on her teeth from when she hurriedly prepared for the repast. “I’m fine,” he looks down at Terry. “That’s good. Is everything going well at your accounting firm?” she asks. “Architecture firm,” he replies and takes a drink. “Oh sorry, I forgot,” she says. James shrugs, “How was the ceremony?” “It was fine,” James keeps eating. “Are you going to answer me in more than just simple sentences?” she asks. “No,” James says. “Come on. It’s dad’s funeral. Can we please get along now?” her voice cracks. James looks at her. “His funeral was earlier. You would’ve been there if you had any sense of responsibility,” he says. “I’m sorry. This is a really rough time for me,” she says. “It’s rough for us too. Mom was freaking out because you weren’t at the visitation. I texted you twenty times, and you never responded. Mom thought she lost you too. I knew that you were just being you. When you called her afterward, the only reason she was so happy was because she knew you were alive. She begged you to come to the funeral, and you no-showed. It’s no surprise that you showed up to the only event that serves alcohol,” James tries to maintain control of his voice, but a few people glance at their table. “James, why do you constantly judge me? I remember you used to be cool. You used to write those weird stories when did you become so so,” Kate stutters. “Kate, you mocked me for writing. I picked up writing again as a hobby, but I didn’t tell you that because you only respond when you need money. I’d walk away from you, but I’m not sure you’d be able to take good care of the dog,” James’s voice turns to a shout. His mother starts to cry. Luke starts walking towards them. “James, Rex loves me,” Kate shouts. James blinks at her. “Her name is Terry,” James walks away from her. Luke tries to stop him, but James brushes past him. “Make sure the dog doesn’t get any of her wine,” he says to Luke as he walks out the door. *Elderly Regrets* James sleeps in his bed facing the ceiling. He is unable to turn to the side as the wires and tubes in his body restrain him. The rhythm of his heartbeat provides a steady background noise. In his younger years, he wouldn’t be able to sleep in these conditions. At his age, he could fall asleep at a rock concert. When he awakes, he sees an older woman facing him with a smile on her face. His family is huddled outside of the room. For a few moments, James looks from side to side in the room before a frown covers his face. “Kate, why are you here?” he asks. Kate flaps her hand and gently presses him with a slight chuckle. She sits on a nearby chair to take the stress off of her feet. “My older brother had a heart attack. Of course I am going to visit you,” she says. “Where are you staying?” he presses onward. “Is that really relevant?” she puts her hands on her hips. “Yes,” he shoots back. “Your family offered to let me stay in their guest bedroom. I did not impose myself,” she huffs. “It was Chris wasn’t it. He has always had a soft-spot for you. I tried to tell him how,” James starts to raise his voice. “Just stop please. I’m not here to fight. I’m here to reconnect,” Kate starts to cry, “I always wanted to tell you that I was doing better, but I always felt like it was the wrong time. Your heart attack made me realize that I had to see you. Your family told me that you’d recover, and I thought that now would be a good time to start reconnecting.” James starts to cackle, “I read a quote a while back that said, ‘growing old is mandatory, growing up is optional.’ I think that describes you perfectly. If I were to have a relationship with you, I would be your father and not your brother.” “That’s where you’re wrong. You’re the one who refused to grow-up. I went back to college, and I have a job at a software company. I still love to party on occasion, but it isn’t holding me back in life. You on the other hand have refused to let the past be the past, and you abandon things that you love too easily. I was talking to Chris the other day. He had no idea that you used to write as a hobby,” Kate pulls out a notebook, “Your wife had this in the attic. It is all your story ideas. She says you haven’t touched it in thirty years.” “That was a product of childish naivety. Besides, there is no time to write a story,” James replies. “There is time now. You are just too stuck in your ways to try,” Kate stands up, “I came here to offer you an olive branch. You have taken that branch and used it as a weapon. It’s your turn to grow-up.” Kate walks out the door leaving her brother. His family comes in to comfort him, but his combative nature forces them to abandon him leaving him alone in his bed. Life is filled with love. Life is filled with loss. Life is filled with joy. Life is filled with anger. Life is constantly moving forward. Never let the aches and pains of the past prevent life from moving forward or be exiled from love and companionship at the end of life.