The Inhaler in My Bag by Anushka Bhatt

 

The Inhaler in My Bag

by Anushka Bhatt

At first, I thought I was just out of shape. Soccer practice was tough, but it felt tougher than it should’ve. I’d jog through warm-ups, and suddenly my chest would clench like it was caught in a vice — tight, unrelenting, like a seatbelt locking mid-motion. I brushed it off. Maybe I was tired. Maybe I wasn’t pushing myself enough.

Then came that one night. I wasn’t even moving — just lying in bed — and I still couldn’t breathe right. My lungs felt like they were folding in on themselves, shrinking with each breath instead of expanding. I didn’t cry or call out. On the outside, I was still. But inside, everything was on high alert. My thoughts raced, my heart thudded, and I kept telling myself it would pass. That I was overreacting.

The next day, urgent care gave me a word: asthma. Specifically, exercise-induced. I didn’t even know that existed. I thought asthma meant wheezing, inhalers during gym class, something more obvious. But this? It was silent, sneaky, and terrifying.

Now I carry an inhaler everywhere — tucked into the side pocket of my bag like a lifeline. It’s not flashy. It doesn’t beep or buzz or draw attention. It’s just there, small and quiet, like a backup battery I hope I never have to use.

Asthma isn’t always dramatic. It doesn’t show up with sirens or scenes. Sometimes, it’s subtle — a whisper in your chest, a pause you can’t quite explain. And that whisper says: slow down. Take a breath. Pay attention.

And now, I do.

I Pulled an All-Nighter and Felt Like a Zombie in HD” by Anushka Bhatt

 

I Pulled an All-Nighter and Felt Like a Zombie in HD”

by Anushka Bhatt

One night, everything hit at once… two quizzes, a bio paper I’d barely started, and, for some reason, an overwhelming urge to reorganize my closet at 1 a.m. (Don’t ask. It felt urgent.) I told myself I’d just power through. No sleep, no breaks, just “grind mode.” Spoiler: I did not thrive.

I didn’t even nap. I just kept moving, kept working, kept sorting through biology notes and mismatched socks like a caffeinated robot. By morning, I looked like a human being but felt like an open browser with 47 tabs — all glitching.

I sat in class, physically present, spiritually gone. At one point during a test, I stared at the paper for so long I forgot how to spell my own name. That’s not a joke. That’s what happens when your brain is operating at 4%.

People romanticize all-nighters like they’re proof of dedication. “Grind culture,” they call it. But let me tell you: there is nothing empowering about forgetting entire concepts you understood the day before, or feeling like your limbs are underwater while trying to raise your hand. Sleep isn’t a reward you earn …it’s oxygen.

Now, I protect my sleep like it’s the final boss in a video game. I dim my lights like it’s a ritual. I make wind-down playlists to slow my thoughts. I say no to one thing each night, even if it feels small. Because that “one more thing” is what used to keep me up.

Rest isn’t weakness. It’s the secret weapon everyone sleeps on. Literally.

(Medical Fact: Chronic sleep deprivation increases risk for heart disease, anxiety, weakened immunity, and memory loss.)

Personal Fact: It also makes you forget the spelling of “photosynthesis.”

Torn Ligament, Torn Schedule by Anushka Bhatt

 

Torn Ligament, Torn Schedule

by Anushka Bhatt

Tearing a ligament isn’t just about pain, it’s about everything that comes after. Paperwork. MRIs. Long appointments with words you have to Google. Crutches that clack loudly down hallways. And worst of all, the school work piling up while you try to figure out how to shower without falling over.

When I injured my ACL during a soccer match, I thought it would be a quick bounce-back. Ice it, rest it, return. I was wrong. The recovery was slow, sometimes frustratingly so — weeks turned into months of physical therapy, progress measured in degrees of motion and how many steps I could take without limping.

But the worst part wasn’t the pain, not even close. It was the pause. The way everything just stopped. My schedule, my momentum, the way I moved through the world. Suddenly, I was sitting still when I was used to sprinting ahead. I had to relearn basic things, not just how to balance physically, but how to mentally trust my body again. How to show up in a space where I no longer felt strong.

And then came the awkward conversations. Explaining my injury to classmates, to teachers, to people who asked why I wasn't on the field anymore. I felt like I was repeating a script I didn’t want to memorize.

But somewhere in the process, healing taught me something more lasting than any game ever had. It taught me patience — the kind that sits with discomfort instead of rushing through it. It taught me discipline ,waking up early for PT, pushing through exercises I hated, celebrating tiny wins most people would never notice. And it taught me resilience, not just bouncing back, but coming back different. Wiser. Stronger in the ways that matter most.

Because real strength doesn’t always come from muscle. Sometimes, it comes from showing up anyway…even when you’d rather disappear.

Could Your Diet Be Causing Osteopenia? by Anushka Bhatt

 

Could Your Diet Be Causing Osteopenia?

by Anushka Bhatt

I didn’t even know what osteopenia was until I watched a documentary about young ballet dancers who were breaking bones. Not from dramatic falls, but just from training. Their scans showed low bone density. Most of them were under 20. That scared me.

I used to think bone health was something only older adults had to worry about. But it turns out, if you’re not getting enough calcium and vitamin D while you’re still growing, your bones can start to weaken quietly. No symptoms. No warnings. Just stress fractures and injuries that seem to come out of nowhere.

I learned this firsthand. I hadn’t had milk in years. I stopped drinking it in middle school and wasn’t eating much dairy at all. During one soccer season, I ended up with two stress fractures. When I went to the doctor, she asked me about my diet and brought up osteopenia. I was shocked. I thought I was healthy. I exercised regularly and ate clean. But I was missing a key part of the picture.

The risk is especially high for people who are very active, avoid dairy, or have a history of disordered eating. Your body needs calcium to build and maintain strong bones, and vitamin D helps absorb it. Sunlight helps your body make that vitamin D. It’s a chain reaction that depends on getting the right nutrients at the right time.

Now, I’m much more mindful. I eat more yogurt and leafy greens, take a calcium and vitamin D supplement, and make time to get outside in the sun for at least 15 minutes a day. These small changes have helped me feel more in control of my health.

Bone loss doesn’t just affect older people. If you’re skipping nutrients while your bones are still developing, you could be putting your future health at risk without realizing it. Your future self will need the bones you’re building right now. Take care of them while you can.

Low Iron Isn’t Low Effort by Anushka Bhatt

 

Low Iron Isn’t Low Effort

by Anushka Bhatt

I used to think tired
meant lazy,
but no one told me
my blood was running hazy.

Hair in the brush,
cold feet in June,
why did no one say
fatigue can come too soon?

The test said “anemic,”
my doctor was chill,
“Just supplements, spinach,
and time — and you will
be okay.”

Now I see
health isn’t always seen,
and sometimes tired
means you need iron, not caffeine.

Should schools start later? an opinion by Parnika Thakare

 Should schools start later?

Written by a real,exhausted teen.

I Am not sure who decided to start high school at 7:40 am, but I just want to have a real conversation and express my opinion face to face without arguing. Because this is total chaos.

 

Everyday I snooze my alarm at 6:30am. I can not even remember at what time I slept yesterday night because I was just doing my History Homework until late. Feels like I slept for just 10 mins and now I have to get ready and eat(though no time for this) and I don’t know how but be fully awake and focused by the time I get in the class.

I am pretty sure that it’s not just me but it’s literally every other teen in school who is exhausted and sleep deprived. And I don’t mean scrolling on phone and staying up late. There are studies that show that when schools start late, teens do much better and are actually focused. It helps us stay less stressed and more awake and become capable to do more better in the class. Isn’t that the main idea.

I am not suggesting that classes should start at noon and end sooo late. I do understand that teens have extra curricular , parents have work, buses and e.t.c.  However delaying classes by an whole hour can have a huge impact on students life. I could get time to finish my breakfast or revise for a test. If you're thinking of delaying school, do notice the dark circles under teens eyes. Everyone would say yes before I even finish my coffee, wait isn’t it bad for teens health?

 

Part IV: Rewriting the Narrative by Niles Pavley

 

Part IV: Rewriting the Narrative

You Are Not the Story You Were Told:

There is a moment, quiet but seismic, when you realize: you are not obligated to keep telling your story the same way.

For most of our lives, we narrate our experiences in familiar terms. We fail a class and call ourselves “bad at math.” We get rejected and conclude, “I’m not enough.” We fall short, and the sentence becomes a summary: “I can’t do this.” In time, these stories harden. Not because they’re true, but because they’ve been repeated so often, they feel true.

But what if the story of your failure is just that—a story? And what if you could revise it?

Rewriting the narrative doesn’t mean pretending that the losses didn’t happen. It means looking again. With time. With tenderness. With the understanding that you were doing the best you could with what you had. Not every fall was a flaw. Not every mistake was a moral failure. Some were just human moments—ordinary, painful, and honest.

We often believe that change begins with action. But before any real transformation can take place, we must shift how we see ourselves. The most dangerous stories are the ones we don’t even question: “I always mess things up.” “I never finish what I start.” These are not identities—they are echoes. Echoes of pressure. Of old wounds. Of voices that taught us to equate performance with worth.

To rewrite the story is to interrupt the echo. To ask: Is this who I am, or who I’ve been told I am? It is to pause before repeating the old line and choose a different one, even if it feels unfamiliar.

This isn’t easy work. The brain is a creature of habit. So is the heart. But we are not bound by our earliest drafts. A character who begins the book in despair is no less worthy of a redemptive ending. And you are no less worthy of revising your story—not because you owe anyone a happy ending, but because you deserve to live in a narrative that honors your becoming, not just your breakdowns.

One of the most radical acts a person can do is claim authorship. Not over what happened, but over what it means. The story you tell about your failures determines what happens next. Are they scars, or are they seeds?

In the stillness of a library, surrounded by books that pulse with a thousand lived experiences, this act of re-authoring feels almost sacred. You are not alone. Others have failed louder. Others have healed more slowly. And many have walked through the same dark woods, only to come out on the other side carrying a torch.

You do not need to start over. You only need to start again, with language that doesn’t reduce you to your lowest point. With grace. With curiosity. With the quiet belief that you are still being written, and that the pen is in your hand now.

Let this be the new chapter: not perfect, but honest. Not triumphant, but true. A story not of someone who never failed, but of someone who kept walking, even when the page was blank.