Korean Donuts

We were bored out of our minds, and for some odd reason, whenever we oddballs are together, we always resort to food. That’s how it always starts. Vega, Joann, and I decided the cure was Korean donuts. 

But not normally—oh no, we had to make it interesting. One of us would be blindfolded, one couldn’t hear, and one couldn’t speak. It was like a reality cooking show nobody signed up for. Naturally, I got stuck as the mute one. Vega insisted on being blindfolded because “how hard can it be?” Joann couldn’t hear, which somehow made her the perfect candidate for chaos. 

The first five minutes were… catastrophic. Vega tried pouring flour and redecorated the kitchen like it was modern art. Joann tossed sugar into the sink. Into the sink! And me? I’m flailing my arms, silently screaming instructions that no one could understand, which probably looked like interpretive dance mixed with panic. 

By the time we got to frying the donuts, smoke was curling out of the pan like it had a vendetta against us. Vega panicked. Joann panicked.

I… silently panicked while wondering if we’d just invented a new form of kitchen warfare. 

We took a bite. The outside was golden and perfect. The inside? Raw. Completely, terrifyingly doughy. 

We had created a donut Frankenstein. 

Disaster tasted slightly of sugar and regret. And yet, I couldn’t stop laughing. Flour coated my hair. Sugar coated the counter. Our “teamwork” had somehow become a high-stakes comedy. 

The donuts were a failure, the kitchen looked like a crime scene, and somewhere a fire alarm groaned in judgment. But in that chaos, we discovered the secret ingredient to any recipe: laughter. 

Because even when things go horribly wrong—and they usually do—it’s way more fun if you make a mess together.

None of the merry-go-rounds seems to work anymore. 

I stood in the old park observing the rusted merry-go-round as even the strong winds were unable to make it spin. It's strange, back then i didnt even need direction, I would have just held on the the metal bars, laugh, and let everything around me would just blur into something simple. But now, none of the merry-go-rounds seem to work anymore. 

It wasent just this one, I felt like all of them stoped. Every simple loop, every familiar trun, every routine, all the placeswhere i can go in circles and still feel like i am moving forward. The music stopped the colors faded, even the ground looks different. Cracked. As if it was done waiting. I reached out and push the metal bar just to see if it would move, it creaked, barely shifting then it stopped.

 I looked around the empty park, realizing there was nothing left to hold onto. No spinning, no circling, no easy way to stay in the same place. If I wanted to move, I had to do it myself now—step forward, even if I didn’t know where the path led.

So I let go of the metal bar.