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"Why did you steal from me?", the shopkeeper questioned me like a criminal.
Flustered, I denied her accusation and tried to run away.Another employee heard this and stopped me from getting out of the store. They told me to hand over my bag for them to check. Cold sweat trickled down my back and my heart was palpitating. I refused but they snatched over my bag and they found the missing items.

"What is this?" She asked, furious. I could feel a burning sensation from her sight. She made me call my mother or else she would call the police. Oh no! What do I do now? I screamed internally, with my heart in my throat. I finally called my mother after hesitating for moments. When my mother came, I burst into tears and admitted my mistake to my mother and the shopkeeper. "You should not steal and take other people's things,young boy",the shopkeeper comforted me.

When I went home, I repented on my grave mistake. I should not have stolen! I wish I had not taken it!
I promised my parents that I "would not take the easy way out" by stealing and save money whenever I want to buy something. I learnt that 'Do what is right,not what is easy'.

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It was the day of math examination. I purposely chose a seat at the last row in the classroom, so that no one would really notice me, let alone have interest in what I about to do. The bell rang exactly at eight and the exam began.

Flipping the first page over, most of the questions were already a mystery to me. I was right, without the help of something, I wouldn't be able to pass this paper. Tilting my head left and right to check if anyone was looking or wandering their head around, I secretly took out the slips of paper that I had carefully hid inside the pen  casing. It was hard as I had to constantly check if anyone was looking my way, like a prey hiding away from its predator.

The plan was going well untill a cold hand could be felt on my left shoulder, follwed by the words:" Do what is right, no what is easy." I sighed, knowing that i had lost the gamble. Even though I knew the consequences of cheating in an exam, I decided to gamble my chance but it did not turn out well. I surrendered the slips of papers and followed the teacher out of the classroom as I prepared myself for what is about to come next. This will be the first and last time that I ever cheat in an examination as the words Integrity embedded into my heart.

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With each strum of the chords came the pattering footsteps of the crowd swarming along Orchard Road. My fingertips hurt and my shoulders aches with the weight of my guitar. The sun screamed upon me like the shaky, glitchy music bursting from the second-hand speakers. Lips parched, I struggled to continue singing, and completely drained my fingers slowed to a stop. I screamed internally, wishing that the day would pass faster. A quick glance to my barely filled case sent my stomach sinking, my throat tightening and I did not know if was due to thirst or the desperation bubbling in my stomach. My shouting father fizzled to life in my head, the bills of my overdue college funds crunched up in his hand, casts of blood red fury staining his face. “yes” He roared, the word like a mantra, it’s aura like a loop around my neck, cutting into my skin with each growling repeat.

“Can’t even work for yourself!” My father’s words slid down along with the tears down my cheek. Jamming my sorrow back down my throat, I continue back in a song. My voice came out cracked, eyes blurry from the tears and the sun made the pounding in my head louder, but slowly I got lost in the sensations I fell in love with. The beat of the drums, the pluck of the guitar, the clinking of coins-

My eyes snapped wide open, just as a man hunched over my case. I saw a scatter of coins. It wasn’t much, but the feeling of finally being noticed and appreciated sent a tingling feeling shooting from my head down to my feet. “Thank you, Sir!” I cried out, euphoria ringing in my words. I only received a incoherent grunt, but it was more than enough to lift my drooping eyelids in excitement. As the man walked away, whilst I was busy counting the coins, from the corner of my eye, I saw a glimmer of gold, and it clunked at the side of my guitar case.

I peered at it, and like a deer in headlights I froze. An iPhone! A rush of thrills slammed into me, spawning images of what i could do with the sold money before waves of guilt rose and crashed me out of my fantasy. It was wrong, so wrong, yet it was like a chance produced from Satan tempting me to the edge. It was the man’s phone, that was one thing I knew for sure. But the fact that so much ‘cash’ had just plopped into my arms felt too good to be wasted. The angel and devils in my head started intensely squabbling, all the teachings across my life against the easy way out of my busking attempts to earn money. “Do what is right, not what is easy!” The angel bargained.

“Sir!” My voice came out faster than I expected. The man turned, and seeing the phone I held up in my hand, utter delight and relief clouded his face, the poker face replaced with pure thankfulness. The glow on him seemed to radiate back to me, and the angel smirked.  “Oh, thank you, young boy, bless your kind soul!” He exclaimed, his lips pulling up to reveal a crooked smiled, a bashful grin across his face. I flushed red in embarrassment, though my heart glowed deep within, pulsing against my chest.

To my surprise, more coins started flying in towards my case. My head snapped up in surprise, and my eyes widened as more people started approaching and placing money into the bag. As if the angel had emerged from within and blessed me, a halo of pride wrapped around me, lighting up the misery that had been festering inside. The way people looked at me with respect only served to brighten the shine from my eyes.

The easy way out could have resulted in a lifetime of shame, dirty money, and a polluted life. Instead, leading myself onto the right path had tugged me away from the clutches of the devils claws, and enlightened my life.

The cash I had earned, and the ball of praise being tossed around the crowd, would have brought me more satisfaction than any of the filthy money I could have taken had I chosen to take the man’s iPhone.

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“It’s never enough! “ I retorted harshly as my Father ran his hand through his hair. With his head Low, he merely muttered “I’ll work harder to buy you the same iPhone X your classmate has”. His forced smile reminded me of mine as my classmates showed off the luxuries their wealthy family could afford to purchase for them. As he walked to the window, those broad shoulders reminded me of the days when simple happiness was enough - being able to spend all day at the playground, running after the ice cream truck...

It was when I took a closer look at him that I noticed his raven blackhair was now turning grey; Those strong, broad arms he had seemed to have shrank along with the other parts of him. Pants of guilt struck me, blow after blow as I realised how I took everything for granted, how even the universe was not enough, how all these didn’t mean as much to me as quality time...

That was when I was reminded by my kind Father holding me as a young child telling me: “ If we are thankful for what we have, we will end up having more. If we focus on what we do not have, we will never ever have enough.” It is better now or never but it will never be too late to show my appreciation to the man that gave all he could to make things enough.

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My family and I are from a poor village in Africa. Then, one day, a philanthropist Queen Elizabeth the 2nd

donated a large sum of his wealth to us, which was used to build infrastructure for us such as schools, hospitals, office and leisure places. With the education provided to our village, we are now equipped with skills to find jobs. Our village will never forget our benefactor even though he has passed on. We will make full use of his donation and give back to society. Now, it's our turn to help others so we did some community services to help the poor families in Africa. " If we are thankful for what we have, we will end up having more. If we focus on what we do not have, we will never hve enough"

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I was fighting with my regiment against the Japanese. We were outnumbered, outgunned but nonetheless, we continued shooting until the final bullet. Out of ammo, too boost morale, i shouted "We can't give up!" , " Tough times don't last but tough people do" to those who were left of the regiment . High in morale, we charged into the battlefield,attacking the Japanese head on with our fists and knives. But in the end, we were shot, stabbed by bayonets and the rest of us were killed with brute force and the rest of us were hung to death on the trees. Just before i died, i realised that due to our resilience, our country was able to be free for just a little longer, due to resilience, a few more people could create happy memories,due to our resilience some people were able to experience hapoiness for longer.

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The claw marks bled, the crimson liquid bubbled. Satan released his flames. But unlike the wildfire that burns forests down,it aged in only two areas in my disembodied soul. The cool water lapped at my artificial skin, though none washed away the blood. None put out the flames. And none put my cracked pieces together.

Numbness. "You can stand!" Reason yelled. "I know!" I wanted to scream back. I couldn't. I couldn't. Weight, pressed against my chest. Too much. Not enough. Fingernails dug into my forearms, pain, a creation of my own. The fire burnt. The pain never faded.  "Tough times don't last, but tough people do." Nothing changed, but the burning sweetness I could control.

I opened my eyes.

-----------------------------------------------------

I made it, I thought with a hint of disbelief. Staring through the mouth of the cave at the hint of sunlight streaming in, I felt the urge to scream it to the world yet I had no one to tell. I thought of the darkness. The numbness. Familiar scars on my forearms reminded me of

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If we were to compare personalities, May would be the more academically inclined person while I would be the person who is more artistically inclined. She would always find ways to help me in my studies, but i would always give her the cold shoulder.
It was like that until one day, when a text came for me at night. "Are you sure you 'don't care'?"
"It isn't that much of a problem, as the year end examintions are a few months away. I stil have time. I don't need to see any of the teachers, and don't try to change my mind," those words were typed and sent to May before I could even register them in my brain.
Before the guilt and regret of spillling those words can eat at me, I switched off my phone, and continued to draw, reliving all my stress and frustrations into every stroke, every delicate line of lead on paper.
I was happy, contented, and satisfied after my little drawing session, before the familiar sound of my notification ringtone binged from my phone. All the emotions that I drove away soon flooded back to me.
"Let's end this friendship. There's no point of hepling you if you aren't going to help yourself."
I stared at the screen long after the screen turned black. A hot tear rolled down my cheeks. Guilt and regret seem to come in waves, drowning me.
Regaining my composure, I picked up the pencil, but instead of completing my art piece, I broke the pencil into half.

The days passed like leaves falling off the tree when autumn bids goodbye and winter greets evryone with ablast of cold breeze. In a blink of an eye, four months passed. without may, studying became more harder, and I was close to giving up. I didnt understand any of the concepts and topics, as I was distracted by my sketchbook during every lesson. I had mistakenly assumed that May would be there for me, and she woud help me with all the unfamiliar concepts. I was wrong. So hopelessly wrong. I can't do this. It was a mistake giving May the cold shoulder.

Realising that this friendship can't be saved, I tried focusing on my studies, as the examinations were coming up. I spent days and nights burning through my textbook, sacrificing time just for good grades. During the exam, all those unfamilar things were like a breeze to me now. In the end I passed with flying colours, which were proof that my hardwork paid off. "Tough times don't last, but tough people do" that quote flashed through my mind, making me smile.

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I struggled to take my gulps of air as I sprinted slowly towards the finishing line. I felt something stab into my stomach. It was a painful gastric. I could feel my legs slowly weaken as I lost energy. I started to pant furiously as sweat drops slid down my face. "Come on, Johnny! You can do it!" My classmates cheered on. I clenched my fists as I nodded to thank them. As I made the left turn, I felt even more tired. "I can do this," I encouraged myself. I pushed myself towards the end point. At a distance, I could hear my classmates cheering on to me. I decided to sprint all the way towards the end. As I passed the finish line, I could hear everyone cheering and screaming in delight. "Johnny, last place but you just passed!" The PE teacher said. I smiled with joy as I gulped a mouthful of water. I'd do it! I made it! I passed my Napfa test!

The two months of harsh training really paid off and I finally passed the 2.4km run. "Tough times don't last, but tough people do."

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CANCEL

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