I felt myself being picked up from my cot. My eyes were swollen from the torrents of tears that I had cried. Strong muscular arms held me tight. I knew better than to feel safe, only harm came my way. I hiccuped into the person's chest. The way I was acting was not the way of a twenty year old, but of a toddler. The halls were long and narrow and bright lights only made them seem longer. Becoming bored with being held, I reached up to my head and much to my surprise I had hair. Searching the rest
–she was named after a dream. Why not? I thought, though I cried the night before because she got the chance bestowed to her curvy hips, her white Colgate smile, her crystal blue eyes. And what about me? What about me. I have never had the smartness of a woman. I envied her from the day I realized that looking pretty was more important than being rough. I had always been good in games, in fighting, in being well… rough. When we were much younger, I used to bully her so badly that she never
year. I moved to Harrisonburg , Virginia with my recent boyfriend everything was fine so I thought. Love makes you do a lot of crazy things during that time I was happy with my life and with him and then things changed in a blink of an eye. One day we were on the top of the world, then the next his fist was coming towards my face. I thought that was love so I stayed through the hurt, pain, depression, I just wanted him to love me like I loved him. Before I met my recent boyfriend Jacob I had just
Bones I can remember this night just like it was yesterday. It was a hot, humid Saturday night, in July, after my fifth grade year. It was two weeks after my birthday, which is June twenty-third. I had just got a new pair of skates. I didn’t think anything about checking the wheels on my skates or how loose they were or even if I could actually skate with them because I didn't have wooden floors at the times so If I skated it would have to be on the road, but that messes up the wheels, so I just
I stared down at my hands, trying to control the shaking. My breathing came out slowly, if it came out at all. I felt like bursting into tears. I stared at the boards in front of me. My head was spinning, and my mind was racing. I couldn’t believe I had missed that break. I had practiced this break time and time again. It was my best break of all. Normally, my foot went through the board like a hot knife through butter. I could break double boards with that sidekick and not blink an eye or break
As a young child, at the age of 9, I have always been in the care of my grandmother because my parents worked from eight in the morning until around seven or eight at night, so after school my, grandmother and I would spend quality time together. It was only me and her most of the time because my older sister always had practice for some type of sport. My childhood was memorable due to my grandmother, so there wasn’t much I couldn’t be happy about. We usually got along very well, but everyone has
before the new school year. The year of the sneezing, coughing and nonstop runny nose was preparing its over throw of summer. I wasn't too excited about it. In fact I dreaded it. Advertisements came flying through the mail. Every one of them had printed boldly "Back To School" and "Back to School" again. It made me sick to my stomach. I threw every ad in the garbage. I never knew it but this school year was to change my view of school and the people in it completely. The first hour of school
talents within a person opposed to if they did not work for an outcome and was simply handed the results. The most important aspect of this quote is “adversity”. I believe this quote reveals nothing but the truth for I have faced minor cases of adversity and still discovered traits within myself, especially throughout my soccer career when I sprained my ankle and when my coach left my team. During my first year of middle school my entire soccer club was sent to a camp to play on bigger fields and
bitter, damp night outside. I twisted and turned under my thin covers. My teeth chattered in the chilly air around me. I couldn't sleep. My sweat dripped down my forehead and my heart was thumping hard at my chest. I was always afraid of the dark and I still am. But this was the first time I had slept alone in a hollow, ominous and shadowy room with no wallpaper. Instead of a carpet, there were filthy floorboards that creaked and moaned. There was also a wardrobe that I had never opened before
only tears'. So Mowgli sat and cried as though his heart would break, and he'd never cried in all his life before.” When I was eighteen years old, I thought that I had seen the whole world. I thought that I had felt every feeling possible. I had heard every imaginable sound. I had tasted every flavour in existence. I was convinced that I had used every tear in my lifetime supply. I would never cry again because I was man. I was invincible. I was a boy. I was not a man. I had not experienced anything
I cried on my 18th Birthday. I cried because to me it signified that my childhood was over -- That I would never be able to relive some of the greatest moments of my life. I remember that day after school I was talking to one of my good friends, Betty Lou, and I mentioned to her how sad it was that we would all soon be leaving County HIgh. Betty smiled and looked at me and said, "But there is so much more in store for us ahead." Last October I was sitting in Mr. Fooler's British Literature class
At 4, I came to the breakfast table and saw that my father had a horribly swollen eye and adhesive tape forming a shell on his nose. I didn't know that he got those injuries in a barroom fight; I only know that I was deeply frightened and sorry that my father was hurt. This was the first of many bad memories. At 6, I awakened to the sound of a violent argument between my father and mother. I didn't know the reason for the quarrel; I just wanted the shouting, cursing and threats to stop. I could
a myriad of reasons why I deserve a scholarship I figured I would tell “my story”. I grew up in an extremely loving middle class home. We attended church every Wednesday and Sunday, yet this did not quelch the rebellious side in me. At 21 I was asked to leave my parents’ home because I stole money from them to fund my opiate addiction. This addiction consumed all of my life for two years. I lived a hard life, trying to prevent withdraw in every way possible. This meant I would steal, lie, and cheat
wakefulness and dreams, I found myself in the room. There were no distinguishing features except for the one wall covered with small index card files. They were like the ones in libraries that list titles by author or subject in alphabetical order. But these files, which stretched from floor to ceiling and seemingly endless in either direction, had very different headings. As I drew near the wall of files, the first to catch my attention was one that read "Girls I have liked." I opened it and began flipping
Tears of a Clown I sat on my seat next to the cage of my t-rex while helpers were applying my clown makeup. I was almost ready. I got into my clown clothes. Tim the T-rex was saddled and feisty. “Xavier, it’s time for you to get out there!” Someone said as the speaker in the tent began to announce me. “Now introducing, Xavier the clown on his t-rex, Tim!” I urged Tim to walk briskly out of the performers tent. I cued him to bow down. I ran around the ring just like I practiced in our routine
All about me My interactions with others are affected by my physical self in many ways. For as long as I can remember I have had a very difficult childhood. In my life I have had only my mother. A week before I was born my father left my mother for some other woman. At the age of eleven I started to slit my wrists. Later on in life I learned, that the reason that I was did this was try to get the attention of everyone around me. This only ended up with me getting admitted into the mental word. After
however, published books do not have a guarantee of being read through by an audience like essays are read by a teacher. These books instead must be put out to the general public, who will either tear a book apart, or praise it into legend. One book that I, at least, would elevate to the highest level is A Court of Thorns and Roses by Sarah J. Maas. Filled with joy and sadness, and everything in between, this is a book with a story about a girl who is kidnapped from her home and brought into a whole new
I have had the same manager for almost four years now, and he has really helped me reshape the way that I address conflicts. He’s like a dad to me and we have extremely similar personalities. Because we have a close personal and professional relationship, there are more opportunities for a conflict to develop between us, and so most of the conflicts I have are with him. He understands better than anyone what bothers me, and what kind of reactions I will have to something, and usually has a good idea
Blue elephant and brown teddy bear stuffed animals line the walls. Pictures of my camp friends and I are scattered sporadically around the room. In the corner, there is a box bleeding with blue everything. Beads, facepaint, hair dye, and ribbon overflow this box, representing color war and the amazing time I had. Color war was my favorite part of the summer. Being a color war captain was a position I had always wanted ever since my first summer. When my final summer rolled around, it was my time to
“What if I had been there? What if someone had talked him out of it? What if…?” You always ask yourself these questions, but never get an answer. I find myself still asking these questions even though I know they will never be answered. Death takes the ones we love the most too soon. Unfortunately, I know this feeling all too well. On September 6, 2015 my very good friend, Cody McCullough, committed suicide. I was scrolling through my Facebook news feed like I do every morning when I came upon