Kudos to anyone who hosts webinars with guest speakers because this is actually so hard combined with my classes 🫠 If you're able to come and watch, I would really appreciate it! But if you can't, no worries! Registration link is here: https://forms.gle/apAM3ds2drakJARG6

Song of the post: https://open.spotify.com/track/0GiMNDMpPq0o43oPP5Xhuc?si=ea39de35a4434a2b Substack post: https://open.substack.com/pub/rudaiba/p/her-void?r=47zbbv&utm_campaign=post&utm_medium=web&showWelcomeOnShare=true She presses the final key, holds the silence like it's something fragile. For a moment, she pretends the applause that never comes is waiting just beyond the library walls. But it never does. It’s always just the soft creak of her own breath in an empty corner of the world. She closes the piano lid like it’s a coffin. She opens her eyes. Still here. Still her. She smiles on her way out, nodding at the librarian with all the grace they expect from her. "She’s so kind." "She’s so elegant." "She’s everything I wish I was." Their voices float behind her like perfume—heavy, sickly, not meant for her to inhale. She walks and her shoes make no sound. Her laugh makes no echo. She is a performance piece. A perfect script recited on loop. Inside? Nothing. Not pain, not joy. Just static. Just… blank. A hollow statue carved by others, polished by expectations, placed gently on a pedestal no one dares question. Even she doesn’t question it anymore—not really. She plays, she smiles, she moves like a painting on display. Her words about “passion” taste like chalk. But inside? There's nothing. She studies because it’s all she was told she was good for. She plays because the silence afterward reminds her she’s still alone. She wins because otherwise… she might hear the emptiness louder. She looks at her own reflection in the polished piano lid, if she’s even real. And with a bitter smirk only she can see, she whispers— “I am… a true void.”

Song of the post: https://open.spotify.com/track/5AorWp4SMocQBoChWTCaa0?si=3c6397f403b940e7 Substack post: https://rudaiba.substack.com/p/the-void?utm_source=substack&utm_content=feed%3Arecommended%3Acopy_link It’s raining. The girl walks into the atrium that connects the library to the music hall. Her umbrella is broken, her hair clinging to her cheeks like silk threads. She is still beautiful. Too beautiful. Even soaked. And there, in the far corner —he sits, sketchbook in lap, hood pulled low like a night sky falling. For a moment, they just look. No piano. No bookshelf. No performance. No hiding. He was already there, soaked hoodie clinging to his form, eyes scanning the puddles like they might hold meaning. His sketchbook sat open beside him, a half-finished drawing of a girl at a piano — faceless, unfinished, aching. Their eyes met. For the first time, they didn’t pass each other like ghosts. Her eyes meet his — wide, searching, empty.And he sees it. Finally.The vacancy. The echo in her stare.She is not golden light. Not heavenly grace. Not perfection.Just a hollow girl made of glass, cracking. And she sees him —not the artist, not the boy with bleeding fingers.Just a shadow in fabric, expressionless, forgotten.Like he was never even placed in this story to begin with. And for a heartbeat, they saw each other clearly.Not as ideals.Not as muses.But as two people who had built entire worlds to hide the truth of who they were. She’s so bright… but so..empty.He’s so dark… but full..filled with shadows perhaps. The rain murmurs behind them.Only reflection.Only echo. they didn’t move, didn’t speak. Only looked. And in that looking, they saw not hope, not possibility ,but a quiet, devastating recognition. Each was a mirror. Each reflected what the other feared most. two strangers bound not by fate, but by a shared absence.

9th Grade - Robotics Club (on a small team) - Science Club - Coding Club 10th Grade - Science Club - Sophomore Class Club (Ran For Secretary for Junior year but lost) - Chess Society - Coding Club 10th Grade Summer: - Research Internship at NYU 11 Th Grade - Treasurer in a Muslim Association - Robotics Club (15th Place, didn’t reach finals) - Science Club (Sadly Didn’t make Team) - Coding Club (Wasn’t accepted for hackathon due to the team being packed with seniors) - 5 AP including AP Physics and Chem - Badminton Team - Engineering Team, Helped work on a Case sponsored by NASA and NYIT, sent to NASA to go to space. - 100+ Hours of Community Service at Local Mosque. - 11th Grade Summer: - Study for Sat - Work on Getting a Research Internship for 12th Grade and the summer itself - Or work on getting a in person engineering internship Honors End of 11th Grade: English Honor Society Language Honor Society Science Honor Society Sadly no Competitions… SEND Competitions that happen over summer! 12th - Didn’t Make Treasurer again for the Muslim Association - Trying to get a Spot as a Officer in Robotics - Science Club applications for senior year start next year - Coding Club, Teacher is still deciding spots for next year - 7 Apps - Badminton Team Again Planning - Hopefully do some more community service next year Other: Important member of a 1.5k+ member online organization, became one of the members of basically board of directors and worked to grow the community How do I save my ecs? Additionally I have a chronic illness this whole year so I could only work on my ecs rarely I did do some Good stuff though

because Chinnu and Rudaiba are being too philosophical. I made this a while ago as the intro to a short 3-part poem set called "Bubbles". No official title for each part yet, so let's call this one "a small ode to when it didn't matter." I. Air encased in a thin, soapy, film creates: an orb that dances in the sunlight, scattering it into a pretty, iridescent rainbow across its rounded surface, innocent as the children that chase it with a later forgotten glee. this is very emo lol