A fleeting breath, a collection of moments stitched together with the thread of memory, unraveling at the edges. A joke with no punchline, a book where the pages write themselves—sometimes poetry, sometimes chaos. They tell you to dream, but don’t dream too big. To love, but not too much. To fight, but only for the things that fit inside the lines someone else drew for you. And yet, here we are, walking contradictions, loving too much, breaking too easily, hoping despite everything. Maybe life is just a series of "almosts." Almost happy. Almost understood. Almost enough. Or maybe it’s the quiet in between—the spaces between the words, the seconds before a goodbye, the echoes of a love that was once enough. Some say life is about meaning. But what if it’s about feeling? The weight of a name whispered in the dark. The ache of knowing you were seen, but not chosen. The warmth of a laugh that lingers just a little longer than it should. And if nothing lasts, if every moment is slipping through our fingers— Then maybe life is just about holding on, for as long as we can, Before the tide takes us, before the story ends, Before we turn the page and realize we were the book all along.

I am going for my course selection next week and plan to take pre-calculus. I'm taking my transcript where I've completed geometry and am pursuing Algebra 2. My current math teacher is giving me a recommendation letter. What should I write in my letter that I will submit to the high school?

What's good Rishab academy, I wanted to reach out to all of you today to ask a very very important question. I plan to publish research papers in my high school years. I'm publishing one right now, but it has my mentor's name on it. Any ways to publish without any mentor name and just yours?

Rishab Academy was one of my favorite communities, but nowadays, I don't see anything different. I don't see those big paragraphs, the polls, the opportunity lists, or the questions anymore. I may not have enough time to post anything, and I don't see anyone doing so either. Where is @Chinnu B @Rudaiba Tarannum @Tanzim Redwan @Daniel Y @Syeda Zainab Fatima @Chaitra A. and much more? Please come back, the feed's drier than the Sahara desert rn.

There was a boy who loved machines. Machines were simple. They took in information, processed it, and acted. No drama, no arrogance, no ignoring people just because they weren’t the smartest in the room. The boy wasn’t a machine. One day, he sat in a room full of voices, working on something important. He explained the logic, laid it out clearly. No one listened. He said it again. Still nothing. Then, a smart kid repeated the exact same thing. And suddenly, it was right. The boy sat there, silent. He watched as the leaders ignored their own mentors. He watched as extra time was wasted on nothing. He watched as someone, carrying nothing, told him to carry the heavy stuff. And he thought, maybe machines have it better. A machine wouldn’t care about being ignored. A machine wouldn’t feel the frustration of being overlooked. A machine wouldn’t sit there, heart pounding, swallowing anger just to keep the peace. But then again… a machine wouldn’t have loved robotics in the first place. Maybe emotions are a curse. Maybe they make everything harder. Maybe they make people arrogant and make being ignored hurt even more. That’s the weird thing about emotions. They make happiness feel great, but they also make small disappointments feel crushing. Machines. No emotions. No sadness, but also no joy. No excitement, but no heartbreak either. In a way, it sounds… better? Is it? Would life be easier if we didn’t feel? Or would it just be empty?