I asked many of my classmates what they were going to write about, because I had no idea at first. Most of them said that they just compared the straight labyrinth to life, but it was too ordinary for me. So I kept thinking about what I should write about, even in other classes. Every time I had a good idea, I overthought it and it became a bad idea, as it wasn’t special enough or the answer didn’t suit my personality and I always found some mistake in it. Then I realized that it was the straight labyrinth itself: I have an idea of what to write, and I know what I want the end of the story to be, but I don’t know the middle of the text. I could go so many ways, I could go in one direction, but after a wrong sentence in a story I couldn’t continue it, just like dead end in a labyrinth. So in the middle of the story I have to find the way out, just as in the labyrinth, but after reading it, it is straight: it has a beginning, a middle part and an end, yet it is more complicated than that.