By Jafina Jabin Khan 

Jafina is a high schooler from Bangladesh and a very passionate individual. A student of Science, she balances her literary dreams with her love for STEM, finding wonder in both the intricacies of the human mind and the mysteries of the world around her. She writes about the things most people overlook, the reason someone chose to leave this world, or the butterfly that lingered a little longer on a flower,because she believes these small, forgotten details are often the ones most worth telling.

Words

JJ Khan 

Words are the greatest form of black magic to ever exist.

I stand by that statement from real-life experiences. It's funny how something that's man-made is able to alter our minds, our thoughts and choices. But I assume that's why Physiology is a highly demanded sector in our world. I mean, who wouldn't want to be able to control how we think?

There's a line I saw the other day, probably on YouTube, which was mirroring the famous quote :-

“We will make electricity so cheap that only the rich will burn candles.”

                                  ~Thomas A. Edison

The line went:-

“We will make AI free,so only the rich would think”

It honestly made me laugh, for it was from a channel that would constantly post AI generated videos.

A Hypocrite; one would call the person behind it.

Recently I've been entertaining myself with the  world of poems. I've been so entertained by them, that I've actually been attempting to write a few too.

So I sat at my desk, if one would call it that. My school uniform; still wet, dangling from the side, my two beat up journals that I never really finished, rotted in one of the shelves. My untouched notes were sprawled across the flat surface, as I threw yet another piece of crumbled paper as if throwing it hard enough would make it magically disappear into oblivion. My “biodegradable” “totally non-plastic” pen-holder rested in the corner of my table, as if it were supposed to make me feel better about myself for caring about the environment. An ‘Étui’ they'd call it, something fancy to show off. But nothing really mattered, not unless it was worth posting on the internet for everyone to see.

I threw yet another piece of crumbled paper, this time the portal didn't show up. The paper landed with a light thud. My words didn't quite reach the ones that got published by the TWT. Not that I really wanted for them to be published; just something that would validate my thoughts and make them worth hearing.

I've heard great poems come from strong emotions. Which was weird because the emotions I possessed at that time were anything but mild. But that's just the internet I guess. 

Sometimes though,I wonder if the great poets we think so highly of were just performing for the crowd when they wrote the words we celebrate today.

But they're not here anymore,so there's no one who can clarify that. I guess we'll just stick to the theory that makes us feel better about ourselves then.

In sixth grade, I became particularly interested in a very ignored birthday present my older sister had gotten.

That particular present being a novel my sister didn't quite want to read. I don't know if it was the girl on the cover or the peculiar name which attracted me to the book, but something I can truly say is that after 2 years of hovering around the book like a hawk,my sister finally allowed me to touch it.

And so,I sunk into the 608 page novel narrated by Death himself. 

What I didn't know at that time,was how twisted and unloving people's minds were. As if the first impression of a person's liking was supposed to determine their life long goals.

As Death narrated the pages, I found myself confining myself in it too. I imagined myself in the scenarios Liesel Meminger had found herself in. I imagined my nights in the basement, with the boy whose hair remained the color of lemons forever, and to live a reality where Death would be more than tired to summarize my life.

The ending though, didn't shock me, just made me feel something that I hadn't ever felt. The feeling of complete eerie numbness.

But Death did end the story with something that I still stand by to this day,

"I am haunted by humans”

 ~Death 

The duality of people haunts me too. After receiving a lot of hate for reading this by my peers,I decided to dig in a little deeper and found out that this was written to be set during the Holocaust. It never felt like it though, I never even noticed it. But people who had never read the book, decided that I had become a hypocrite just by reading it.

Words are one of the most powerful things a man can possess. I don't seem to believe it that much anymore. Manipulation,power, education, they all have one thing in common. They're rooted to money. 

I seem to believe that we're all hypocrites. Trying to mask our covert narcissism with hollow altruism. Our reality is just this bogus ballad of clock ticks until  the bell drops. 

I do possess a favorite quote though. Surprisingly enough, it's from Disney. Rapunzel's tangled adventure to be exact. They're the lines of a song, which , to understand completely would require a lot of context. 

“I guess my life meant nothing

I guess it was a sham

I guess I'm someone else now

I wonder who I am.”

- Eugene Fitzherbert

Everything feels like a lucid dream nowadays, which is funny because I've been having them for quite an extended period of time. I've mastered the habit of counting my fingers, which assures me that I'm still a part of reality. But recently the  dreams have become just as numb  and dull, maybe I never woke up at all.

By Charlotte Schuyler 

Charlotte Schuyler is an undergraduate student at the University of Miami studying Political Science and International Studies. Her writing interests include politics, culture, literature, and the ways popular media reflects larger ideas about human behavior.

The central conflict in Lin-Manuel Miranda’s Hamilton is not simply a personal rivalry between Alexander Hamilton and Aaron Burr. Instead, the two men represent opposing philosophies about how human beings should respond to uncertainty. Hamilton believes that people must act, speak openly, and create opportunities before time runs out. Burr believes that survival depends on patience, secrecy, and the ability to preserve one’s choices. Miranda establishes these competing ideologies through repeated phrases, contrasting pronouns, kinetic diction, musical callbacks, and opposing rhythms. As the musical progresses, Hamilton and Burr become trapped by the language they repeatedly use. Hamilton’s refusal to throw away his “shot” and Burr’s willingness to “wait for it” shape their identities, guide their decisions, and ultimately determine their fates. Through their conflict, Miranda makes a broader argument about human nature: the words people repeat to themselves can become personal philosophies, and those philosophies can eventually control the lives they were meant to guide.

Before Hamilton adopts “My Shot” as his defining phrase, Miranda introduces an earlier version of his worldview in the opening song, “Alexander Hamilton.” Hamilton declares that “there are a million things I haven’t done,” but follows this admission with the promise, “just you wait.” This phrase resembles Burr’s later refrain, “wait for it,” but the two forms of waiting are fundamentally different. Burr tells himself to wait, while Hamilton tells the world to wait for him. Hamilton’s phrase is not passive; it assumes that his rise is inevitable and that everyone else will eventually be forced to recognize him. Even before the audience sees his political ambition, Hamilton imagines the future as something he intends to conquer.

The company reinforces this characterization by explaining that Hamilton “could never back down” and “never learned to take [his] time.” These lines introduce the qualities that will later make him both successful and self-destructive. His refusal to retreat allows him to escape poverty, become involved in the Revolution, and help shape the new nation. However, the same refusal prevents him from recognizing when silence, patience, or compromise might protect him. Miranda therefore introduces Hamilton’s tragic flaw before Hamilton even enters the main action of the musical. The audience is warned that his inability to slow down will be both his greatest strength and his greatest danger.

Hamilton and Burr’s first conversation in “Aaron Burr, Sir” immediately dramatizes the contrast between them. Burr advises Hamilton to “talk less” and “smile more,” warning him not to reveal what he is “against” or “for.” This advice is more than a political strategy. It reveals Burr’s belief that identity should remain hidden until revealing it becomes advantageous. Burr sees speech as dangerous because public commitments create enemies and reduce future choices. His warning that those who “run their mouths off wind up dead” also foreshadows Hamilton’s eventual fate. Hamilton will repeatedly create danger through speech and writing, most notably through the Reynolds Pamphlet and his final correspondence with Burr.

Hamilton rejects Burr’s philosophy almost immediately. Rather than quietly considering the advice, he interrupts, laughs, asks questions, and declares, “You can’t be serious.” Miranda does not need to directly tell the audience that Hamilton is incapable of silence. The structure of the dialogue demonstrates it. Even while Burr is telling him to speak less, Hamilton continues speaking. His interruptions become a form of characterization, proving that restraint is already incompatible with his identity.

The contrast becomes even clearer when Burr tells the revolutionaries, “You spit. I’m ’a sit. We’ll see where we land.” In a single rhyme, Miranda reduces Hamilton and Burr’s opposing philosophies to two verbs. Hamilton “spits,” suggesting speech, creativity, confrontation, performance, and action. Burr “sits,” suggesting observation, patience, distance, and self-protection. Burr’s final statement, “We’ll see where we land,” avoids committing to a prediction. He does not claim that the revolutionaries will win or lose. By remaining uncertain, he preserves his ability to adapt to whichever side succeeds.

Hamilton sees this flexibility as a lack of conviction. His challenge—“If you stand for nothing, Burr, what’ll you fall for?”—shows that he equates moral identity with public commitment. To Hamilton, refusing to choose is itself a choice. Burr, however, believes that taking a public position too early is reckless. From their first meeting, they disagree not merely over the Revolution but over what it means to live intelligently.

In “My Shot,” Hamilton fully articulates his ideology of action. The repeated declaration “I am not throwing away my shot” transforms opportunity into a moral obligation. Hamilton does not simply want success; he believes that failing to pursue success would be a betrayal of himself. His frequent use of “I” and “my” reflects his intense belief in individual agency. He describes himself as “young, scrappy and hungry” and compares his own rise to America’s movement toward independence. By declaring that he is “just like [his] country,” Hamilton turns his personal ambition into a national metaphor. Both Hamilton and the emerging United States are young, insecure, and determined to prove their legitimacy.

Hamilton’s language is also filled with movement. He wants to reach his goal: “fan a spark into a flame”, “rise up”, “smash expectations”, and “take a shot”. His verbs rarely allow him to remain still. Even his speech becomes a form of motion. He describes his “power of speech” as “unimpeachable,” suggesting that language is his true weapon. Hamilton gains influence not through inherited wealth, family status, or physical strength, but through writing, arguing, and persuading. He speaks himself into history.

One of the most revealing lines in “My Shot” is Hamilton’s declaration, “I’m past patiently waitin’.” This line directly rejects Burr’s worldview before “Wait for It” is even performed. Hamilton sees patience as wasted time, not wisdom. He follows this rejection with the belief that “every action’s an act of creation.” This statement summarizes his ideology: people do not discover their futures by waiting for them; they construct their futures by acting. Hamilton interprets uncertainty as a demand to move.

However, “My Shot” also exposes the fear underneath Hamilton’s urgency. He admits, “I imagine death so much it feels more like a memory,” explaining that he never expected to live long. His relentless ambition is partly a response to mortality. Because Hamilton believes time may be taken from him, he attempts to fill every moment with achievement. His refusal to waste his shot is therefore not only an expression of confidence. It is also a defense against the possibility of dying before he has proven his worth.

Burr’s philosophy emerges from a different relationship with death. In “Wait for It,” Burr explains that love and death do not “discriminate between the sinners and the saints.” He repeatedly shifts from his individual experience to collective language: “we keep loving anyway,” “we laugh and we cry,” “we rise and we fall,” and “we make our mistakes.” Burr’s use of “we” makes his philosophy appear universal. Rather than admitting that waiting may be his personal fear or weakness, he presents it as a reasonable human response to forces beyond anyone’s control.

This pronoun choice also reveals Burr’s desire for safety through consensus. Hamilton often speaks in the first-person singular because he believes a single person can shape history. Burr speaks collectively because shared experience protects him from standing entirely alone. His language subtly recruits the audience to his side. When he says that “we keep living anyway,” his private fear becomes a truth that seems to include everyone. Burr uses language to make the audience feel as though they already agree with him.

Burr’s restraint is rooted in trauma. He explains that his parents left him “no instructions,” only “a legacy to protect.” Unlike Hamilton, who believes he has little to lose, Burr feels responsible for preserving something fragile. This distinction becomes clear when Burr observes that Hamilton “has something to prove” and “has nothing to lose.” Burr understands that Hamilton’s recklessness is made possible by his lack of security. Hamilton acts because he fears dying without significance. Burr waits because he fears destroying the significance he inherited.

Burr attempts to redefine waiting as a form of control. He insists, “I am the one thing in life I can control” and claims, “I’m not standing still / I am lying in wait.” The phrase “lying in wait” allows Burr to portray passivity as strategy. He does not believe he lacks ambition. Instead, he believes ambition should remain concealed until the correct moment arrives. Yet the ensemble’s constant repetition of “wait for it” gradually makes the phrase sound less like freedom and more like confinement. Although Burr claims to control himself, the refrain suggests that his philosophy has begun to control him.

“Non-Stop” places the two ideologies in direct competition after the Revolution. Burr repeatedly asks why Hamilton writes and fights as though he is “running out of time,” while Hamilton continues working, speaking, and producing essays. The structure of the song allows Burr’s questions to surround Hamilton’s actions, but they never slow him down. Burr observes while Hamilton advances. Although they begin practicing law at the same time, Burr notes that Hamilton immediately begins to “climb.”

Burr’s repeated question, “Why do you assume you’re the smartest in the room?” operates as both criticism and foreshadowing. Burr correctly recognizes that Hamilton’s confidence may become his “doom.” However, the question also reveals Burr’s fascination with him. Burr does not merely dislike Hamilton’s ambition; he cannot understand how Hamilton acts without the certainty Burr believes he needs. His questions—why Hamilton writes, fights, and always says what he believes—show that Hamilton’s behavior violates Burr’s entire understanding of survival.

Their disagreement over the Constitution makes the difference explicit. Hamilton argues, “We have to start somewhere,” while Burr asks, “What if you’re backing the wrong horse?” Hamilton accepts imperfection because action can lead to revision. Burr avoids commitment because making the wrong decision could permanently expose him. When Hamilton asks, “What are you waiting for?” he identifies waiting as Burr’s central condition. Burr responds that he will keep his plans “close to [his] chest” and watch “which way the wind will blow.” The wind metaphor suggests that Burr allows external circumstances to determine his direction, while Hamilton attempts to reshape those circumstances himself.

Miranda complicates Hamilton’s philosophy by introducing Washington’s warning in “History Has Its Eyes on You.” Washington tells Hamilton, “You have no control” over “who lives, who dies, who tells your story.” Washington represents a more balanced ideology than either Hamilton or Burr. He acts decisively, but he also understands that action has consequences beyond an individual’s control. Hamilton believes he can write and work his way into command of his legacy. Burr believes that caution can protect his. Washington warns that history cannot be completely controlled by either action or restraint.

In “The Room Where It Happens,” Burr’s ideology begins to shift. Early in the song, he continues to rely on collective pronouns: “we just assume that it happens,” “we want our leaders to save the day,” and “we dream in the dark.” He speaks as though his frustration belongs to the public rather than to himself. Once his personal desire becomes impossible to conceal, however, his language sharply changes from “we” to “I.” He repeats, “I wanna be in the room where it happens” and eventually insists, “I’ve got to be” there. Burr begins adopting Hamilton’s individualistic language at the moment envy begins overpowering restraint.

Hamilton also turns Burr’s own refrain against him. He argues that “you get nothing if you wait for it.” The company echoes Burr’s phrase, but it no longer sounds like a wise philosophy. It sounds like an accusation. Hamilton presents participation as a game that requires risk: “You don’t get a win unless you play in the game.” Burr’s desire to enter the room marks the beginning of his transformation from observer to active competitor.

This transformation becomes explicit in “The Election of 1800.” Burr campaigns publicly, goes door to door, and tells Hamilton, “I’m chasing what I want.” Most importantly, he adds, “I learned that from you.” Burr has finally adopted Hamilton’s willingness to act. However, he adopts Hamilton’s ambition without adopting his commitment to a defined political belief. Hamilton ultimately supports Jefferson because “Jefferson has beliefs” while “Burr has none.” Hamilton would rather support a clear ideological opponent than a man whose beliefs change according to opportunity.

The irony is that each man’s philosophy contributes to his fate. Hamilton’s refusal to waste an opportunity enables him to write his way out of poverty, participate in the Revolution, defend the Constitution, and create financial systems. In “Hurricane,” he repeats, “I wrote my way out,” describing writing as his method of survival and deliverance. Because writing saved him before, Hamilton assumes that more writing can save him again. Faced with the Reynolds scandal, he decides to “overwhelm them with honesty.” However, the Reynolds Pamphlet demonstrates the limitation of his ideology. Hamilton cannot imagine that his greatest strength might become destructive. He protects his public reputation from accusations of financial corruption, but destroys his private life in the process.

“The World Was Wide Enough” completes the ideological reversal Miranda has constructed throughout the musical. At the duel, Hamilton and Burr each abandon the philosophy that has governed his life. Hamilton, who has repeatedly promised not to throw away his shot, deliberately aims his pistol toward the sky. Burr, who has spent the musical insisting that he is willing to wait, fires before understanding Hamilton’s intentions. The tragedy therefore results not only from the ideologies they follow, but from the moment each man finally acts against his own.

Hamilton’s internal monologue directly returns to the language of “My Shot.” He asks, “If I throw away my shot, is this how you’ll remember me?” Earlier in the musical, a “shot” represented every opportunity Hamilton refused to waste. At the duel, throwing away his shot becomes an act of restraint and moral agency. The refrain has accumulated a new meaning. Hamilton finally realizes that refusing to act may create a more meaningful legacy than winning.

The language of speed from “Non-Stop” also returns when Hamilton admits, “I’m running out of time. I’m running, and my time’s up.” Earlier, Burr and the company repeatedly asked why Hamilton behaved as though time were disappearing. At the moment of his death, that figurative urgency becomes literal. Hamilton has spent his entire life racing against mortality, but he ultimately reaches the limit that effort and ambition cannot overcome.

Hamilton’s final words to Eliza also reveal a change in his ideology. He tells her, “My love, take your time.” The phrase is striking because Hamilton has never known how to take his own time. The man who declared that he was “past patiently waitin’” uses his final moments to advise someone else not to live with his constant urgency. He finally recognizes that time is not valuable only because it can be filled with accomplishments. Time can also be shared, endured, and experienced slowly.

Burr undergoes the opposite transformation. Immediately after Hamilton raises his pistol, Burr cries, “Wait!” The single word is tragically delayed. “Wait” has been Burr’s defining command throughout the musical, but he says it only after firing, when waiting can no longer change the outcome. Miranda transforms Burr’s refrain from an expression of patience into an expression of regret. The philosophy that protected Burr for most of his life fails him at the exact moment he needs it most.

Burr’s narration reveals how fear causes him to abandon restraint. He interprets Hamilton’s glasses, preparation, and examination of the weapon as evidence that Hamilton intends to kill him. His thinking narrows to “It’s him or me.” This is deeply ironic because Burr has spent his life preserving choices and avoiding absolute positions. At the duel, he reduces a complicated situation to only two possibilities. He convinces himself that he must kill Hamilton or allow his daughter to become an orphan.

Burr’s fear for his daughter connects his impulsive action to the trauma that originally taught him to wait. Because his own parents died when he was young, he is determined that Hamilton “will not make an orphan of [his] daughter.” Yet his attempt to protect his family causes him to make the irreversible decision that destroys his legacy. The same fear that once produced restraint eventually produces violence.

The aftermath returns to the collective language of “Wait for It,” but alters its meaning. Burr repeats that “death doesn’t discriminate / between the sinners and the saints,” yet the comforting continuation from the earlier song disappears. Instead of emphasizing that “we keep living anyway,” Burr declares that “history obliterates” and “paints me and all my mistakes.” In “Wait for It,” collective language makes suffering feel universal and survivable. In “The World Was Wide Enough,” history isolates Burr as “the villain” of Hamilton’s story. He survives physically, but survival becomes its own punishment: “I survived, but I paid for it.”

Burr’s final realization that “the world was wide enough for both Hamilton and me” exposes the false belief beneath their rivalry. Burr increasingly views Hamilton’s success as a threat to his own possibility. Political power, recognition, and legacy appear to him as limited resources. He assumes that Hamilton’s presence leaves less space for Burr to succeed. Only after killing Hamilton does Burr understand that their lives did not need to be mutually exclusive. The world had room for both ideologies, both ambitions, and both men.

The duel therefore reveals the dangers of rigid personal philosophies. Hamilton’s constant action prevents him from practicing restraint until his final moment. Burr’s constant restraint allows fear, resentment, and jealousy to build until they erupt into one irreversible action. Hamilton waits too late, while Burr acts too soon. Neither “My Shot” nor “Wait for It” is inherently wrong. Action can create change, while patience can prevent reckless mistakes. The danger arises when either philosophy becomes so deeply tied to identity that a person can no longer respond flexibly to changing circumstances.

This conflict extends far beyond the historical figures represented in the musical. Human beings often construct identities through repeated language. A person who continually says, “I cannot waste this opportunity,” may become ambitious and productive, but may also become unable to rest or accept failure. Someone who repeatedly says, “I should wait until I am completely certain,” may avoid impulsive mistakes but also avoid meaningful risks. The language people use to describe themselves can gradually become belief, and belief can become habit. Eventually, habit shapes action and action shapes fate.

Miranda’s use of repetition also forces the audience to experience these ideologies rather than merely observe them. Hamilton’s urgent rhythms make action feel exciting and necessary. Burr’s smoother phrasing and collective pronouns make patience feel reasonable and emotionally mature. The audience is persuaded by both men at different moments. Miranda does not present one clear philosophy as correct. Instead, he allows viewers to feel the appeal of each worldview before exposing its limitations.

Through “My Shot” and “Wait for It,” Hamilton dramatizes two recognizable human responses to uncertainty. Hamilton attempts to defeat uncertainty through action, while Burr attempts to survive it through patience. Their diction, pronouns, rhythms, and repeated motifs reveal that their rivalry is fundamentally ideological. By the final duel, both men have been shaped and limited by the words they repeat. Hamilton finally learns to wait, while Burr finally chooses to act, but each recognizes the value of the other’s philosophy one moment too late. Miranda ultimately suggests that language does more than reveal identity: it creates identity, guides behavior, and helps determine how a person’s story will be remembered.