“I’m just so, so fat…” Tom murmured to himself. Tom was a six-grade student, a rather short boy, but he was very heavy and fat. The last time he took his weight, he was near 70 kilograms. At schools, he was constantly being picked on. Every time he sat on a chair, the people would say “I’m betting that that chair would break anytime” or “Man, that chair is sturdy isn’t it?” or maybe “I can hear that chair squeaking already”. He dreaded PE classes and the NAFA tests. When attending PE classes, he would also be laughed at when he did jumping jacks. His classmates would claim that they felt earthquakes or they could feel the ground shaking. During NAFA tests, he would fail everything, every station. He tried his very best in everything he did. However, whenever he ran, his short stubby legs would trip and fall. When he tried to jump, he couldn’t jump very far. There were no strength in his arms and the 1.6km run he would always be the last. He had tried to exercise once in a while, but he could not run very far without taking a break, or walk more than a few meters without panting. He tried dieting once, but he almost fainted from hunger. So he had to take the last straw. Tom dial a number and said, “Hello? Do you have a slot for your slimming services?”
Exercise 4
I woke up to a familiar grey ceiling facing me, the same wooden bed, thin sheets and a small chair. “Time to wake up,” My guard shouted. I was in a small cubicle, with four dull, grey walls facing me. The room was very stuffy, with no windows. The walls were so high, practically impossible for anyone to climb. Simply put, I am in prison. Every day, I would be brought out, to walk through the narrow corridors of the prison. As it was my first time in prison. I was only allowed to go out at certain hours. I would enjoy the few hours of freedom, the rare and few hours. I would ride the bicycle I was rewarded for behaving, enjoying the breeze as I rode. Today, my mother visited me again. I could not manage my feelings and barely escaped breaking down. We were only separated by one glass windows. I wanted so badly just to touch her once, to tell her I was sorry, but yet we were so far apart, and I couldn’t bring myself to apologize. Tears streamed down my face, drop after drop. They were not the tears of sadness, it was the tears of regret, I cried, shouted, sobbed for hours in my room after meeting my mother. The pain, the anger and regret, the pain of not being able to even touch my mother, the anger of my actions, and the regret of doing something that I know is wrong, they filled my heart, time and again, I couldn’t understand what I was doing then. Maybe this was the purpose of the prison after all, to make one feel lonely, sad, and regret what they have done. After dinner, I returned to my room and lied on my bed, thinking, maybe I shouldn’t have robbed the lady, perhaps I would still be with my family and loved ones, living a happy life…
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