Over and over again, I’ve written on this same dumb, ridiculous, eye-scaring google docs page. If I have to write this article again, I’m going to cry a freaking chicken nugget out of my face.

During Newspaper class, the workers and I have to write words in the newspaper. Although nobody reads the newspaper, I take my job very seriously. I thought I was good at being funny, so I tried to write a slappy-slapstick article, but I was wrong all along. The plan was to make a mind-blowing piece about my main character syndrome. The only problem is that I don’t have main character syndrome. As a result, my past few drafts of this article flopped so flopping badly that I think I blew up a few brain cells.

You’ve gotta get it straight because I didn’t at first. Main character syndrome is when one thinks that they’re the main character and that everyone else in their life should be their side chicks. Before I researched the subject, I thought main character syndrome was when one acts like a television character. That stupid, stupid thought, stupided me over. 

For something as short as a cat, my rough draft took longer than a hot dog to write because I was talking about how My Little Pony gave me main character syndrome. Just thinking about it makes me want to beat the pulp out of a marshmallow.

Nevertheless, the day finally came. Press day. On that day, the new managing editor, Zelda, was faced with the daunting task of reading my article. She was niceish when she gave suggestions on my article, but it was clear as skin, that my article was trashy, so I was deported home. 

After deportation, I awoke to find that it was a 3-day weekend, so I hastily rewrote my article to give it a drippy feel. My article was so unfunny that I thought my article was unfunny. On that day, I got my booster shot, which not only stabbed into my arm but also into my soul. During the night, I didn’t get an eye-wink of sleep, so it felt like someone was banging something in my head. 

The next day, I politely asked my older sister to read my article and help me be funny. She refused to fix my dire dilemma, so I did what anybody would do. I started throwing a tantrum. I screamed and punched tables with solid fists. Meanwhile, my head was hurting from the banging. Luckily, my table-abusing tantrum was a success, kind of. 

My sister told me to rewrite my article for the 3rd time, explaining that I don’t have main character syndrome, while intentionally making myself sound conceited. My brain continued to bang, but I pulled my hemoglobins together and wrote about how I am a horrible person to the point where I was making things up.

At school, both of my editors told me that my article gave them whiplash. They said my writing was all over the place, which was like a wow, okay moment. Not only did I get brain hernias from my article, but I was giving brain hernias to other people too.

At the end of the day, I don’t regret writing and rewriting articles, because I learned three valuable lessons: One, do your research before diving into things. Two, think before you do stupid things, and three, don’t give up, because giving up, is for giver uppers. In the future, I will become more hard-working and independent, hopefully. Thanks for listening to my TED Talk.