I am from the smell of cigarette smoke my grandparents porch in the winter
And The XXL heavy coat my grandpa would give me so I could sit with him
I am from a family of opinions and also of laughter
I am from nights of long talks with my big sister when I was too young to understand what she was talking about.
I am from the sounds of my brother playing video games in the room right next to mine.
All things I imagined would never be gone are now missed.
Where I’m From
I am from the coastlines of South America
Where the sudden breeze softly hits your face
And mountains that are too tall even to reach
Go beyond your gaze
I am from fairytale books and childhood TV Shows
From watching Bubble Guppies on late nights
Or reading Pinkalicious books in school
There are far too many to choose
I am from big families and too many cousins to count
To loving the Christmas smell all around
Halloween was always a treat
Even on New Year’s, it was hard to beat
I am from delicious food and homemade drinks
Reminds me of where I come from
These are things I love and adore
And most importantly, things I will pass down
For my kids to explore
- Bella
The Silent Patient by Alex Michaelides is a psychological thriller that kept me interested because I was constantly trying to figure out what was really going on. The book is about Alicia Berenson, a painter who is accused of killing her husband, Gabriel Berenson. After his death, Alicia stops talking completely. Theo Faber, a psychotherapist, becomes interested in Alicia's case and wants to figure out why she refuses to speak and what actually happened the night Gabriel was killed.
One thing I really liked about the book was the suspense. Throughout the story, I kept coming up with different ideas about what happened. The author gives little pieces of information without giving anything away, which made it impossible to put the book down. I also liked how the characters weren't easy to figure out. At first, Theo seemed like he was trustworthy, but as I got further into the story, I started questioning him and wondering if there was more to him than I had originally realized. The ending was overall my favorite part because I did not see the plot twist coming. After finding out who really killed Gabriel, I started thinking differently about some of the earlier parts of the book.
The only think I didn't like as much was that some parts felt a little slower. There were many instances where I wanted the story to get back to Alicia and the mystery instead of diving so deep into Theo's personal life. Even though those details became important later, they made the book feel slower.
I would recommend The Silent Patient to anyone who likes mystery of thriller books. The suspense and unexpected ending make it a five star read. Even though a few parts were slower, I think the ending made up for it. My favorite part was how the book made me question almost everything I knew about the characters. I was left guessing until the very end.
- K.S
I am from muddy boots and gravel roads,
From John Deere and Chevrolet.
I am from the little farmhouse surrounded by cornfields,
Cozy, peaceful.
It smelled like fresh-cut hay and supper cooking in the kitchen.
I am from the cornfields and cottonwood trees,
The tall green corn swaying in the summer wind,
Golden in the fall and covered in snow during the winter.
I’m from Sunday dinners and hard work,
From Mom and Dad,
And Grandpa.
I’m from the stubbornness and strong work ethic
From “Always say please and thank you” and
“You get out what you put in.”
I’m from faith in God and Sunday church,
Praying before meals and thanking God for what we have.
I’m from a small town in Nebraska with generations of farmers,
Beef
From the story of Grandpa working long days in the fields to provide for his family,
The old pickup Dad drove down the gravel roads when he was a teenager,
On the living room wall above the couch,
I am from cornfields stretching to the horizon, Friday night football under the lights, neighbors who know your name, and a family that taught me to work hard, stay humble, and never forget where I came from.
-DBB
If I lost my sense of hearing tomorrow, I'd miss music
Not just the lyrics or the tune, not even the melody
But the way music would always find me
When I didn't know how to find myself
Even if I didn't know I was drowning
All the lyrics I'd scream until my voice gave out
The songs that would become a memory
Of someone gone or far without even asking
The loudest reminder that I am here and I have a voice to share
But I'd also miss my family if I were stripped of my ears
I would give anything to hear my mom call my name
Even if she just wanted me to grab her a paper or a pen
To hear a joke my sister makes and laugh at it even though it's not remotely funny
To hear all of the little things that I never stopped to think mattered
“Did you eat,” “Be careful.” “Come home soon.” “I love you.”
Words I'd usually answer without a thought crossing my mind
But those words would become a faint memory
I'd spend the rest of my life yearning and desperately searching for
I'd miss my friends all the more
If I couldn't hear
Their terrible jokes; we would end up on the ground over
Their loud laughs at something that honestly wasn't that funny
I'd miss the way they say my name and the little nicknames
the ones that came out of nowhere but became so natural to us
Over time I'd miss our late-night conversations starting with anger
ending in tears of laughter
Because now I realize those moments, those little things, they meant everything
We would have talked about nothing and everything
All at once
Without even knowing we had
Healing problems we never caused, wiping tears we never knew others saw
But I think the most selfish thing I would miss
Would be knowing other people could hear all the things I missed
But knowing there were people before me
People who would give anything to hear when I could
To hear all the things I took for granted at the time
And I only realized it when it was all gone
I have now realized that
It took silence to understand just how lovely it all actually was
How beautiful a cruel world is
if you stop and listen to those
who share their problems
To those who care and slow down to listen
I think now, sitting here
I miss the small pointless things
Nobody ever notices
The things we are accustomed to
A dog barking
Doors opening
Cars pulling into the driveway
After a late-night drive
My brothers screaming at their video games
The things that once annoyed me
The things I had wished I could mute
All gone, and despite it all, I truly miss you
A phone ringing
Because someone wanted to talk to me
Something I once missed because I was “too busy”
All gone without a blink
I'd miss the chaotic world
Without realizing
Just how much of it was all sound
Maybe if I had known
I would have paid more attention
to all these things
A fly buzzing by
A car horn honking
But now I sit and hold onto old videos just to watch their mouths move
I'd watch my family laugh without even hearing the joke
I'd watch my friends talk and pretend for a second that I could still hear them
But I think that would destroy me
Not the silence itself
Not like a headache or a bruise, but something deeper
Like waking up one morning
and realizing the world has been taken from you
But remembering that once upon a time I could hear them and never realized
I was living in a world I would one day
Be begging to bring all of that sound back
I sat back all my life thinking about all of the what ifs
Now why should I sit here and dwell more
Waste more of my life on being upset about the things I don't have
When honestly I have what I do compared to others
And maybe now
I would sit there with my headphones on anyway
Even though I can't hear a thing
Just hoping that somehow the music would remember me
How I deeply remember it and hold it dear to me
So if I can hear you now
I want to listen
I want to memorize every
Laugh every “I love you.”
Every annoying little sound you make without thinking
Because one day the world might go quiet
And if it does
I hope I spent enough time listening to the people I truly love
and that their voices
Will never completely leave me.
K.P.
you beautiful stack of papers,
waiting patiently
on the corner of my desk
while I pretend you do not exist.
You follow me home,
after a long day at school,
Like an unwanted shadow
That refuses to disappear.
Your questions stare at me,
with their tiny black letters,
Asking things
I definitely should know
But somehow never do.
You steal my free time,
My sleep,
And occasionally
My will to live.
Yet somehow,
You always return,
Fresh and innocent,
As if yesterday
Never happened.
Oh homework,
How lucky I am
To have you
Without you,
I might actually
Have time to relax.
Where I'm from
I am from the clicking of a keyboard.
From Windex to Dawn Soap.
I am from the bright red and brown home.
Catching the attention of nearby drivers.
I am from the hydrangea.
The rose.
With its beauty and thorns.
I’m from the fresh Evergreen tree at Christmastime and bursting with business and chaos.
From Mom and Dad.
And my four siblings.
Shaping who I am today.
I’m from the showing up last minute and always being “on time.”
From “shut up and do it” and “I love you.”
I’m from Catholicism.
With its deep roots and history.
I’m from the Boone County Health Center.
From Germany to Norway.
I am from my loving family, and they give life meaning and purpose.
They make every sacrifice worth it.
From taking out the trash to doing the dishes.
I come from a hardworking and faithful family.
-Celestine
When I say I have nothing to do, I am 99% of the time lying. If you looked at my life from the outside, you'd think I was always busy. School, work, home, shower, talk to family, and then go to bed. But on the inside, there are always those dull moments that overshadow. When I'm at work and I say I have nothing to do, it's normally because I don't have any food to run or information to give. In reality, I could be rolling silverware, or setting up our dining room. At home when I say I have nothing to do, It's because I'm not with someone or have any homework to do. I could be cleaning or going upstairs to talk to family. Think about it, we always have something to do, it just depends on if we want to do that something or say we have nothing to be doing.
-MacAttack
Among all the festivities that take place,
Christmas is the one to embrace;
Family around the tree,
And gifts waiting to be free.
The tree is full of red lights,
As my little cousin, his letter writes;
Asking for a bunny,
But my aunt tells him “ That’s not going to be possible honey.”
We sit all together waiting to eat,
Hoping that we get the best meat;
We know it is grandma’s decision,
But we also know she is going to divide it with much precision.
Hoping for a world with more festivities like this in the next few years,
Where all of my cousins have many careers;
And my grandma is always here,
Reminding me every time, “ Don’t you fear, my dear, I’m going to be here year after year.”
By : MJL
An Ideal summer day is a cool sunny and 75 with clear skies during the day. On this day I will spend time with my friends, do a little fishing, and drive my pickup truck everywhere with the windows down blaring some 90's country. Maybe do a little dirt track racing. To finish the day, a cool thunderstorm with some rain, sitting in the garage watching life unfold outside those wet doors. Wathcing a movie with the family before bed with a nice bowl of kettlecorn.
-R. A. Y.
1. First prompt (What is something about highschool you will actually miss the most?
- I will miss my underclassman friends, and seeing my best friend every day. Or Ms.Olson
2. Second prompt (What belief or value have you discovered about yourself as your time as a teenager?)
- I learned that I shouldn't care about what others think about me, and that if I need to go ghost mode, its okay to protect my peace
3. Third Prompt (What is one thing you hope to leave behind with others?)
- I hope others remember my speech and they remember that it is okay to grow up on their own terms
M.M.R
This is the April 21, 2026 journal.
Some of the small things I see is the dry circles around the trees when the trees are just sucking in all the life from the ground, or the way that trees smell when they bloom. I notice that every single spring almost summer time it reminds me of Harry Potter because I first remember rereading it during the spring time. I love Harry Potter and I don't know why the spring time makes me feel like that. I like how the cherry blossoms bloom in Washington and I love how the beach smells.
M.M.R
I love you like the sweet sound of a diesel roaring in the wind
I really do olve watching them go down the road
Roads are crazy they literally go anywhere
Like anywhere
Alaksa is pretty cool with their mountains
I suppose they have roads to but thats not what I would go for
I would go to hunt and enjoy the few
Ok storytime, when I was 10 years old I got my first hunters licesne, but I was very sad that I did not get a deer that year, or the next, or the next, or the next.
However In the year 2020, I got my first deer at 400 Yards away with a 243
I really like that gun
My brother owns it now
And it really needs a new scope.
And I really need to get a scope for mine.
I picked the rifle up last year for deer season, but didn’t get to use it.
It is a 30-06 remington model 700
Did you know that the -06 in 30-06 ment the year that the round was produced, 1906
I ike keeping up do date on random facts like that
Or that the moon is 230,000 miles away from earth
That means that my truck has driven to the moon
Like really, my truck has 268,000 miles on the odometer
Not the original motor thought
It does have a 6.5 detroit in it though.
You know what else has a 6.5 in it?
Virgil and I’s new cadillac limo.
Thats rights, a limo
I took the old motor out and am putting in a beast to go around the race track at the county fair
The ole trailer race
Will have to pull it down there on a trailer, though, well, maybe I'll drive it. Who knows
It would have to drive back home
It would not be the first time I have seen a race car drive to the track
Won't be the last either
The best part is that I will be able to hear
The sweet sound of a diesel roaring in the wind
- R. A. Y.
