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The Teachers Note

  There was a handsome boy pale skinned boy who piqued my interest, he was a great writer yet he despised writing. When I handpicked him as one of the school journalists for the DSPC, I saw so much potential on his stories and I admired the fact he wasn't holding back with his pessimistic ideologies—whenever reading his stories, I was always moved on how he could immerse the viewer onto the world just by the use of his words. He never used such flowery language, and his works we're simplistic which made his story all the much relatable—it wouldn't be a surprise if I ever see his name on the media's frontpage with stories of great quality. Although sadly, he chose to draw instead; I never knew the reason about this yet I could notice the spark on his eyes whenever he was submitting his sketches to me, although detailed and realistic it wasn't acceptable due to it being too realistic. It's not that I don't have a taste for art but it was but typical standards for the drawing to have a cartoony vibe but even so, he surprisingly made the cut.

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  One day, I compared his stories to the journal he passed to me years ago—I've always loved reading my student's journal back in my teaching days, yet now I'm just a old fossil awaiting death to kiss me on the lips. I always felt reassured whenever I read the lives of other people, most notably my students; they were always written differently some are short and ludicrous, some we're plain and long, and there we're rare gems. I've always thought the lives of people we're but gems waiting for be harvested, but upon reading this boy's journal it felt so soothingly grotesque. There was always a sense of relief felt in his journal, yet that sense of relief didn't feel so relieving—if I were to put it to words, I could describe his life that of a sampaguita you could pluck it out and the beautiful scent would last long before it dries out, it's scent is so refreshing you can feel at peace with just a smell from the small flower; but when it does dry out the aromatic scent would stay but the petals would transfigure into this yellowish rusty color; rumors say when the sampaguitas rust, it attracts bad omen since the flower was meant to bring peace for the dead.

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