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Social media and the effects on teens
Social media and the effects on teens
Social media and the effects on teens
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Alisa’s long graceful black curls stretched out around her as she shuffled home, her shoulders pained by the weight of her backpack. Her inky eyes darted around, finally reaching her doorstep, looking down at the faded ‘Welcome’. She muttered some vulgar language under her breath, before letting the key click into place, swinging open the front door. Stepping in, the air conditioning washed over her like an cool air bath, and she quickly shut out the heat from outside. The cooled air against her bare skin, she undid untied her shoes and stormed upstairs to her room, quite angry about something- homework to be exact. She had competitive swim practice after this, and that was only two hours to do her homework. There was no way …show more content…
” Alisa’s parents would always ask this after school, and to be honest, Alisa resented this question. As if her health, physically and mentally, was irrelevant to her precious grades, all As, in school. Lifting her head up in class in response to the teacher’s usual ‘heads up’ she frowned, a faint groan escaping her rosy lips. A yellow bus puttered through the neighborhood, dropping off kids here and there. She could hardly think, let alone care about who got off, and who didn’t. She always sat alone on the bus, the girl in the second two-seater, always staring out the window in a haze. She couldn’t look past all the autumn, the falling leaves, the crunchy sound the leaves made when you smashed it under your foot. It was all so in reach, yet so far away. Another day, another pile of homework. It all felt so pointless, so false, so useless. What was the point? Every so often, she would take a ‘mini break’ checking her email, looking for someone, anyone to remember her. All she found was one email from her mom, telling her to load the …show more content…
She got that. It wasn’t a difficult concept for her to understand. But really, she thought that life could stop being such a sassy _____ and start being nice to her. She didn’t get it, had she not suffered enough? Would it just be easier to fade away to nothingness? Alisa’s arm looked like a werewolf tried to eat her. There was scarlet red streaks, running down from the tip of her middle finger all the way down to her elbow. And there were many, all over her arm. When questioned at school, she claimed to have been scratched by her cat. Everyone believed her of course; no one knew her well enough to know that she didn’t have a cat. Did anyone care about be at all? Alisa thoughts were covered in doom and gloom, as she stared blankly at her homework. I lied straight at their face, and they didn’t even blink an eye. They just took my word. Nobody cares. The subconscious part of her took over, trying to light up her thoughts with a little glimpse of sunshine, but it just made the darkness darker. After all, even the light casts a shadow. What if Nobody is a person? Her mind turned down the thought easily. Don’t be ridiculous, who names their child
She didn’t wake up every morning, happy to go to the school and learn more things, instead she felt terrified wondering what was going to happen to her. Some days were not as bad like the others but there was some days that Melba could've really got hurt but she always found a way out without getting too injured. Kids just kept taunting her every moment of the day and the worst part was the teachers didn’t do anything about it. Even though they know she is a child too and that they should care that because she could get badly hurt and it would be the teacher's fault because they didn’t do anything about it or to stop
in the first two years of school in United States. She worked very hard and checked every
Chapter One On a typically gloomy morning in Chesapeake, Virginia, a thirteen-year-old girl was the only one awake. It was two o’clock in the morning, which was extremely early for anybody, even Sydney. However, she had things on her mind that kept her wide awake. As she paced the room, she scribbled on a clipboard, often pausing to shake her head and cross something out.
Suddenly her bed was empty. Her room was empty. The nametag on her door was gone. Annie slept most of the weekend and, one day, just didn’t wake up. She was gone. I was shattered. ================
The night before, I didn’t practice my English so I knew what to say. By now, I knew most of the words, so I would just let my heart guide me. Besides, my cramped old house, which is actually just a junky garage in an abandoned alley, is too small to let out my feelings. Once I got to school after a cold walk in the snow, I placed myself by her locker and waited. Fourteen minutes had gone by, and still no sign of Lily. I only had a minute to get to class now, so I hurriedly collected myself and ran to my locker. I was disappointed, knowing that without Lily here, it would be the hardest day of school. I opened my locker and to my surprise a note fell to the floor. I quickly picked it up and gazed at the neat handwriting that clearly spelled my name.
As she is confronting all these memories little did she know that it starts a process of discovery towards her mother and
Her mother’s beauty was everlasting until she died at 81 years old. Also, she talked about how she stopped taking her medication and then gradually got better. She had been off drugs for 21 days. So now she could be able to do much more. All that she wanted was to make her husband happy and see how the church she liked and the preacher who would talk to her.
There once was a man named Franswah, and he had a wife named Keisha. They both lived in Keithville, Atlanta. They had a little girl named Jasmine, she was twelve years of age and she attended Ghettoville Jr. High School in the seventh grade. Keisha never did like doing anything, so her husband Franswah decided to go out and have an affair with a lady named Shay. Franswah and Shay worked at a law firm together. Shay was his assistant, she always helped him with things and they always went to lunch together. So some nights he never came home or either he came in late. Keisha was never the type of person to just argue, she mainly just questioned him to see what the response would be and she left it alone until the next morning. So one night when he came in he had a funny odor and Keisha asked him what was up with the smell, he told her that he had been working out and got sweaty. Their daughter Jasmine had very high blood pressure, so most of the time she didn’t go to school because of her condition and she stayed ill. Keisha had a younger sister named Ashley, she is the rowdy type that doesn’t care and will tell anybody anything. Keisha was telling her sister about Franswah coming in late, having a odor on him and don’t want to be questioned. So one day when Ashley was over there and he walked in she confronted him and told him if she find out that’s its that he’s cheating on her she was gone handle it. So he got mad and started hollering at Keisha for telling her sister about what was going on in their relationship. Then that’s when Ashley came back and told him that she can tell her anything she want to tell her because that’s her sister. So few minutes later the phone rings and its was Shay. Keisha answers the phone and it was another lady’s voice, and she asked to speak to Franswah. So she asked her who is calling and she told her that it was Franswah’s baby mother. Everyone is in shock, so Ashley gets on the phone and started getting rowdy. Ashley was asking her different questions like how old is the baby, where she live, and where did Franswah and her meet.
People may not realize the constant cycle of getting home from an away game at midnight and staying up until 4am to finish homework. She doesn’t wear sweatpants everyday because she wants to, but because she is so mentally and physically exhausted in the mornings to care what she looks like. She has pulled multiple all-nighters studying for tests, but the average person would never know that. She pushes through, works hard, and never gives up.
"Umm… I'll stay in Journalism, thanks." "Ok, you're all set up. Your class is 9A, straight ahead, turn left, second room on the right. Have a great first day." When I entered the classroom, I was welcomed by five rows of confused students staring at me blankly as if I was a test where they had all flunked.
Alylisa was very concerned about her son. When her daughter was in middle school, 6th grade, she had heard on the radio that a shooting had occured at a middle school, but she wasn’t quite sure if it was the school that her daughter was attending. She immediately pulled over and was balling in tears. If Alylisa’s son feels, “sick’ she will not force him to go to school because of tragic events that are
Eric made his way to Mariah’s house like he said he would. He hasn’t seen her all day and he knew she wasn’t going to attend the blue diamond’s club that evening. As he pulled up at her condominium, he parked in an empty parking spot before making his way to her door. A few seconds after he knocked, Mariah opened the door slowly biting her bottom lip.
Jenny Bryce was a cute little nineteen year-old coed at Great Plains University who was on a full-ride scholarship for gymnastics and was, at the moment, one of the ten cutest adult female human beings on planet Earth, where "cute" is a term that describes "delightfully pretty or dainty in a youthful, delicate way; fun-spirited; adorable. " You know, perky, cheerful, daintily-petite, and at once both innocent and sexy. Oh, yes, Jenny was all of that from head to toes. Yes, indeed, she was. It was a quarter after seven in the morning and Jenny had been lost in sexual reverie since at least half-past five...her sheets were damp with sweat and the room had a hot, stuffy, sultry air about it that defied the cool crispness of the morning.
"Wrong again. " Two beautiful girls sit on a red large canopy bed in the corner in a golden room highlighted with red gold and pink. In their hands, they hold dark wooden embroidery hoops securing white threaded cloths. One girl, dressed in red pink and gold sighs in frustration, she then unravels some of the red thread from the white cloth leaving behind tiny holes in the fabric.
I wearily drag myself away from the silken violet comforter and slump out into the living room. The green and red print of our family’s southwestern style couch streaks boldly against the deep blues of the opposing sitting chairs, calling me to it. Of course I oblige the billowy haven, roughly plopping down and curling into the cushions, ignoring the faint smell of smoke that clings to the fabric. My focus fades in and out for a while, allowing my mind to relax and unwind from any treacherous dreams of the pervious night, until I hear the telltale creak of door hinges. My eyes flutter lightly open to see my Father dressed in smart brown slacks and a deep earthy t-shirt, his graying hair and beard neatly comber into order. He places his appointment book and hair products in a bag near the door signaling the rapid approaching time of departure. Soon he is parading out the door with ever-fading whispers of ‘I love you kid,’ and ‘be good.’