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Enigma

Today, I will present to you a story. Something we haven’t done here on JWAB before is post fiction. We’ve never come up with some short stories (not articles) to maybe entertain (or in today’s case, confuse) the audience.

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Sleep.

It’s been a long while since I’ve actually gotten a full night of sleep. Every night, I drop dead at 1/1:30 just to wake up 5 or 6 hours later at 6/7.
Now, people seem to blame it on my ‘caffeine addiction.’ No, I can go without coffee. I’m not addicted. I love coffee, but I don’t depend on it to get through the day.
I’m just generally tired.
Everyday, I go walk 2 miles to get home. I have tons of homework to do as soon as I get home, and with or without procrastination, said work will take about 5 hours anyway.
People believe that I don’t get enough sleep because I try to take a two hour nap every day. Wrong. I sleep at the same time, every day.
I don’t get enough sleep because I’m overworked and as a young man need to balance a healthy social life.
Anyone have tips on how to better manage time?
Leave a comment if you have any of the same problems!

Wow, do I feel stupid.

Forgetting something that you reminded yourself about 2 minutes earlier. One of the worst feelings, ever.

I’m in high school. I try to keep my locker organized. Being 6 feet tall, I keep the books I need to take home at the top shelf of my locker, eye-level. I throw all the useless binders and folders on the bottom.

But, I’m in high school. I have the memory (and attention span) of a lifeless twig.

I told myself that I’d take my Spanish textbook home after Spanish class, which is the first class I have in the morning. Then, once again, I told myself to take my Spanish book home after AP World History class, around noon. And so the end of the school day comes around at 2:20.

I get to my locker. I unlock it. I throw the lock under the Spanish textbook on the top shelf, as usual. I’m conversing with my buddy, who for the sake of anonymity shall be called Bush, and I zone out from the conversation to make a mental list of the things I need to take home.

  • Spanish textbook
  • Homework folder
  • Agenda

Bush keeps blabbering on and on about the awkward stare down he had with the “hot girl in our English class” whilst I rummaged for my skateboard and proper folders.

I get everything I need.

I grab the lock from under the textbook. Lock the locker. Walk away.

A couple of hours later, on the way home from a little after school skateboard session with my buddy, I realize something. I FORGOT MY TEXTBOOK. Panic races through me, for I have the most strict Spanish teacher in the school. “Goddamn it, my fucking luck…” I continually repeat to myself. I frantically search through my phone’s contact list. I blank out on whose numbers I do and do not have.

Thank Mark Zuckerberg (and his underlings) for Facebook. One friend, who shall be called Shelly, whose number I did not have, shares the same teacher. She was able to send me pictures of the textbook pages that I needed to copy and translate.

There was no point to this story. All I was getting at was that I’m an insanely forgetful person, and I need to work on my short term memory. What a waste of your time.

Hopefully you’re still reading. I just made you lose the game.