And I will never believe that

I can do anything.

It doesn’t matter to me

if I cure cancer.

if I win a Nobel Prize.

The feeling persists.

This sense of success:

Is meaningless.

In the moment

But inadequacy and self-hate

Glare at me in the bathroom mirror.

A façade of failures

Instead of

A senate of satisfaction.

“He gets the job done”

But think of all the people who said

I was outdone.

Of course.

Am I even supposed to be here?

(Now read it line-by-line from the bottom to the top)

About “Bated Breath”

This written piece was a winning submission (third place) for the 2022 Academic Skills Writing Contest. The 2022 theme was “potential.”

About the Academic Skills Writing Contest

The Academic Skills Writing Contest takes place in the winter term, usually between January and March.

In the moments before your gaze meets mine

In the excited air that hangs above us before a conversation,

In the need that fills my eyes when I wait for you, swelling with the possibility of seeing you in full colour

In your laughter, the way my spirit dances and shines as your gentle notes echo off my chest, when I realize I am starved of a brightness like this

In our awkward smiles and uncertain steps towards each other as we try to believe in a future together 

We live in the moments between heartbeats and breaths, and I hope life affords us something more than a passing moment of potential

About “Bated Breath”

This written piece was a winning submission (second place) for the 2022 Academic Skills Writing Contest. The 2022 theme was “potential.”

About the Academic Skills Writing Contest

The Academic Skills Writing Contest takes place in the winter term, usually between January and March.

i bring out my shovel and clear the frost from the dirt.

as i work, i picture what i will be able to bring you as offering –

sweet ripe tomatoes

crunchy neon carrots

garden peas eager to be shelled and boiled.

an overflowing bounty with each small burial

each memory of the warmth of your smile.

months later, in the pale morning light

i will put my hands in the dirt and bury seeds once again.

it will be too late in the season for them to get very big

but i will feel almost frantic with the need to nurture something new.

for now, i walk back and forth.

i sit in the sun.

i watch the thirsty soil soak up the water

and i think of nothing but growth

About “horn of plenty”

This written piece was a winning submission (first place) for the 2022 Academic Skills Writing Contest. The 2022 theme was “potential.”

About the Academic Skills Writing Contest

The Academic Skills Writing Contest takes place in the winter term, usually between January and March.

Parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme promise me a warmth beyond my sheets.

A warmth that strengthens the weary and flows like golden sun.

I hold a small miracle.

Cupped in my hands is the earth and all her people.

Those who spread seeds and tend to their coming up.

Those whose hands mold where mine now rest,

On a once cold half moon, filled now with warm blessings that rise to kiss my face.

And as I breath in my little sun, I find comfort.

Comfort to me can be found by observing the beauty in life’s simplest things.

By slowing down and finding the miracle in what I usually take for granted.

And sometimes that’s as simple as soup.

About “My Golden Sun”

This written piece was a winning submission (first place) for the 2021 Academic Skills Writing Contest. The 2021 theme was “comfort.”

Author Simi Jayeoba is a third-year Engineering (Physics) student.

About the Academic Skills Writing Contest

The Academic Skills Writing Contest takes place in the winter term, usually in January and February.

i am

monday-morning-awake

brimming with that heavy fog

that sits on the mind.

2

the top drawer on the frame below my mattress

is missing its handle

i backed my chair into it as i got up from my desk

for the first time in five hours. the metal tore off

two empty holes stare where

the bolts used to sit.

3

on tuesday i find a

lacing of cobweb strung

above the bookshelf

i reach the vacuum hose up to

suck the wall crevice clean

my mother saw a spider

behind the shelf where the printer sits

a tiny visitor who won’t pay rent.

4

my father sleeps with the wake of the sun

drives to work after dinner. comes home to

the sun again

my mother says i walk down the staircase with heavy feet

admittedly, i often

forget how to be gentle.

5

i open the curtains after i turn off my alarm

wrap myself in my blankets

again

it was not supposed to be this way

but i am too cold to remember

the list i wrote on paper the night before

lies on my desk

full but untouched.

About “(comfortindiscomfort)”

This written piece was a winning submission (second place) for the 2021 Academic Skills Writing Contest. The 2021 theme was “comfort.”

Author Rochelle Rosales is a second-year Science (Human Behaviour) student.

About the Academic Skills Writing Contest

The Academic Skills Writing Contest takes place in the winter term, usually in January and February.

In any language, culture, or place.

But especially so for the ears of a student, whose life is built around stress and assignments upon assignments upon assignments.

“It’s okay,” they say, “I haven’t done it yet either.” Music to my ears. There’s something comforting in knowing that even if you sink, there’s someone who’ll sink with you—that sense of solidarity.

“It’s okay,” she says, “if it’s too hard, you can stop or try something else.” Relief floods my heart and a newfound will to keep going. Funnily enough, knowing I don’t have to do it makes me want to do it.

“It’s okay,” I read, “to not know what you want.” A smile tugs at my mouth because it seems this burning question is what everyone wants to know, and I, more than most.

“It’s okay,” I tell myself, “to be where I am, even if that place seems further behind than most.”

“It’s okay,” I say, “if your path takes longer, if your route is different, if your destination has changed. So long as you’re okay and you’re okay with it.”

It’s okay. It’s okay. It’s okay.

About “It’s Okay.”

This written piece was a winning submission (third place) for the 2021 Academic Skills Writing Contest. The 2021 theme was “comfort.”

Author Serena Lam is a first-year Integrated Biomedical Engineering and Health Sciences student.

About the Academic Skills Writing Contest

The Academic Skills Writing Contest takes place in the winter term, usually in January and February.

Every day, they rise to pray to an apathetic goddess for warmth and rains

With a devotion unwavering in the face of her natural disaster

Their hands pinching my skin; miniscule bodies braced against mine

They know nothing of the inner machinations of their volatile Earth

I dread the day the children become conquerors  

The day they’ll dig too deep, no longer caring if I bleed

Growing round and fat, they’ll wrinkle my skin wherever they sit

Until one day, my fingers will no longer bend and they’ll call it fitting revenge              

It won’t be worth it, I’ll plead, when I’ll have nothing left to give

But by then they will have already gone forth, nestling in my chest, resting in the folds of my belly, tickling me between my toes

They’ll build cities where no flowers will grow                           

And I will be still.

About “Mother Earth”

This written piece was a winning submission (first place) for the 2020 Academic Skills Writing Contest. The 2020 theme was “sustain.”

About the Academic Skills Writing Contest

The 2021 Academic Skills Writing Contest is accepting submissions from January 18 until February 5, 2021.

but

misunderstood

new changes 

but

small results

a whole nation

but

individuals over individuals

sustaining

but 

going backwards

(now read bottom up)

About “Growth”

This written piece was a winning submission (second place) for the 2020 Academic Skills Writing Contest. The 2020 theme was “sustain.”

About the Academic Skills Writing Contest

The 2021 Academic Skills Writing Contest is accepting submissions from January 18 until February 5, 2021.

Inhale.

Breathe. 

He faces his demons again and again.

Physically, spiritually, emotionally and socially.

He’s restless and tired, but he continues his fight.

Between every breath, addiction embraces tighter.

Inhale.

Breathe.

Stay calm, close your eyes, and sustain the pain.

The roller-coaster begins.

He’s sober, we’re hopeful, and my families together. 

Drop.

No, not again, please someone listen. I don’t understand.

Falling. Crashing. Pain.

I’ve lost him again.

Inhale.

Breathe.

The cycle continues, yet her smile fades.

Her light no longer shines, her hope is no longer high.

His father is sinking and dwindling to nothing.

His emptiness could swallow the world.

His mother is running as far as she can.

To hide from her son, and the path of destruction.

I, his little sister, try to be grown.

I need to save you.

 I can’t do this on my own.

Your face is fading, and crumbling away.

I need you here. Please don’t go.

Inhale.

Breathe.

You fall, I fall.

You hurt, I hurt.

You rise, I try.

Save you, save me.

Inhale.

Breathe.

About “Breathe”

This written piece was a winning submission (third place) for the 2020 Academic Skills Writing Contest. The 2020 theme was “sustain.”

About the Academic Skills Writing Contest

The 2021 Academic Skills Writing Contest is accepting submissions from January 18 until February 5, 2021.