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Grade
11

Another day over. This one was no different. Another repetitive day that further proved my incompetence. Used to it. “What did you get on your last math test? How were the SATs?” I tried my best to ignore them, but I know this is something cannot be done. I tried to keep up with these competitive fellow racers, but all I had was a mere juxtaposition. I sighed as I walked into an elevator. Elevator feels like my own compartment isolated from the rest of the world. A sudden flash of red came across my head was filled with rage. I couldn’t control it. I collapsed to my knees and screamed. I couldn’t think straight. The voices in my head started whispering. ‘How pathetic.’ ‘Your mask that you put on to fit in is pathetic.’ I couldn’t do anything to stop. It was all true. Who cares? Why would anyone care? I was alone. I wailed on my knees, then reality came back. I opened my home door, and my mom greeted me with the fullest smile. She asked me how I am today; I told her I was fine. I put on another mask today.

Grade
8

“These women do not look real,” He said “their unblemished skin, their emotionless features, their porcelain looks, the cold smooth feel of their flesh. No, they are not real.”

“Ahhh but sir, these women are real. Feel their beating hearts, listen to their shallow breaths, look at the minuscule movements they bring about. They are real.”

“I am not speaking of life, nor existence in the physical realm. I am speaking of originality. The game of chance that comes with creating life. The randomness. These women are all alike, all exact, all perfect, down to the last detail.

These women may be bodies and have hearts- but they are not people.”

The room was silent. The women in their paper robes and the two men in their suits. The first man was sure, the second grasping onto thin air.

“No deal.”