I wake up in my small bed rolling right off of it, groaning and brush my teeth dragging myself down to the kitchen, not even bothering to brush my brown mane of curly hair or change out of the blue ‘Panic! At the Disco’ jacket that I’ve been wearing for two days straight. I go downstairs to eat breakfast and my ‘loving’ father greets me by yelling at me and saying that I don’t deserve to eat anything. I sigh at my Dad’s fatherly tone and grab my black ‘My Chemical Romance’ beanie that holds down my curly brown locks. I love how my curly bangs hung over my brown eyes. I love looking over the city because it makes me feel like I’m dominating over everyone else. I walk to the city bus. Fancy… There were a lot of people on the bus. There was a smelly fat guy who kept eating …show more content…
So when Chelsey grabbed my hand I was kind of surprised because no one has ever done that before. But me being me of course, I froze. Just standing there like I have some sort of problem in my head. She probably hasn’t noticed yet, but I have Tourette syndrome. Ever since I was born I’ve always been twitchy, it’s because of my Tourette syndrome. Of course my mom loved me more than my father and tried the best she can to find a cure or medicine to help, but she didn’t find anything. I was stuck with being the kid with a weird twitch at school. I remember looking in the mirror this morning, I’m a cold deathly pale, my eyes are hallow depressed and sad brown, And I have soft curly brown hair. Oh yeah I’m such a handsome gentleman. This probably looks weird, a not really attractive guy walking around with a super model just doesn’t look right to other people. Ingrid suggested that we meet my dad, but I already know that is a horrible idea. I wanted to meet her dads but they are probably busy. Then a guy in a dark mahogany colored trench coat walked to us with his fedora hiding his
I knew it would happen. As much as I tried to stay optimistic, to put off my feelings of suspicion to an old man's negativity, I knew that this case would cost me something more than just my reputation in the town and that didn't even really matter. In Maycomb, reputation is a day by day concept. Sure, we have more than enough of our fair share of immovable gossipers, and drama kings and queens looking for a story to spread. But in everyone's own mind, if you did something stupid, immoral, or just mildly humorous or entertaining, it was the talk of the town and you were judged terribly for a few days, a few weeks tops. Then the whispers, and glances faded to conversations over coffee, and deep inside jokes. My reputation didn't bother me one bit.
I packed my things into a small U-Haul. We were leaving the town I had always known, Houston, to go someplace I barely knew, a small town named Navasota. We moved when I was four because my parents wanted us to experience a small town like they had grown up in. Would I find new friends? Would the people there like me?
We’re halfway through the show and we’re about to sing “Little Things” and I get this idea. “To make this song even more special, we’ll each pick one of you to come up here with us.” After I finish the room goes insane and the lads look confused. So the band starts to play and we begin to look. Zayn and Harry were the first to find their girls in the first row, but Louis, Liam, and I took our time. This was my perfect move to find her and I know where she sits. When I was holding those small hands her bracelet said “Row K Seat 3”, so that’s where I’m looking. “Niall what’s taking so long it’s not like you’re looking for the one.” Harry joked and the crowd went wild. But I am, there’s something about her that makes me crazy. “I found her.” I reach out for
On 7/16/16 at approximately 1909 hours, my partner, Officer Acosta #0044, and I, Officer Harrell #3441 were working normal patrol assigned to unit 2A26. We were in full police uniform and operating a marked black and white police vehicle. We were dispatched to a radio call of a critical missing from 1605 Glen Ave.
Once upon a time, there were three mice. These mice had names. I knew these mice very dearly, and can tell anyone anything they want to know about the mice. One time they in a fight with a cat, and that is the story I am here to tell you about, so this is their story… One of their names was Knox, a dark gray, shaggy, and greasy-haired mice. He loved eating cheese.
You know what, I'm going to be so fucking petty about this, I'm officially going to post this on my page: - Let's start off with this, I'm so fucking done feeling guilty as shit about me snapping at Finn in the first place while he goes off being petty as shit and not being a fucking adult about this situation. I find it so unfair for me to feel guilty about something I shouldn't even apologize for, when HE was the one who fucking started it. - I simply posted a small rant on my story about couples and sometimes how annoying(like the vine) it can be but it WASN'T directed to ANYONE at all, but this fucker comes in thinking it is and so he decides to post about it, being very petty and a bitch TOWARDS me instead of coming to me and asking if it is. - HE IS THE ONE WHO STARTED THIS SHIT WITH ME, NOT ME, HIM! JUST BECAUSE KAIDEN IS MY EX
Ow. My head hurts. It has been lying against this wall for at least an hour now. I scratched the back of my head to move around my dark, curly hair. It was beginning to feel plastered against my scalp. It was a bit tangled from not brushing it for a day and my fingers did not run through it with ease; nevertheless, it felt good to keep the blood flowing. I was lying on a thin, light blue mat on the floor. My head was propped up against the cold wall as if it were a concrete pillow. My chin dug into my chest and I could feel the soft, warm material from my sleeveless sweater cushioning my jaw. I looked down. I could see the ends of my hair cascading over my shoulders. The red highlights matched quite nicely with my maroon sweater. My arms were folded over my belly and they appeared more pale than usual. My knees were bent, shooting upward like two cliffs. My baggy blue jeans covered the backs of my fake brown leather shoes. ("Christy, let me borrow your pants, the baggy ones with the big pockets. I can hide more stuff in those.")
“SMASH” my head hits the lockers hard “GIVE ME ALL YOUR LUNCH MONEY” Daniel says “okay” I say with a whimpery tone “here take it”i say while i give him $5.50.”WHOH WHOH WHOH WHOH that’s enough of that” Steven says. STOP RIGHT THERE!!!!!! let me tell you a little about what’s going on right now. Im Max the little kid thats getting bullied. Daniel is the tall,strong and really big kid that's bullying me and Steven he is the only person that i’ve ever told that i'm being
Foot feathering the gas, the young man followed the curvature of the dirt path. The ancient truck’s suspension screamed in protest with every dip, headlights bobbing up and down as if it were blinking.
I don’t think there's much of a difference between me and the people I chose to surround myself with, we share much of the same interests, we tend to act the same, think the same and some of us even look the same; but apparently there's something in the way I speak which makes people believe it’s perfectly fine to interrupt me.It’s not. Now, I am very much aware of the dreadful case of verbal diarrhoea I have been cursed with, and I know I tend to ramble a lot but in no way does that mean you have the right to interrupt me. It already takes me a tremendous amount of time and effort to pick out and arrange the correct words and phrases in my brain that I think are in the appropriate structure for me to output, and you deciding to chime in with
It’s 3:45 AM and I’m squinting my eyes when I wake up with the moon peeking through the window, I know that I have to wake up my dad and get the clothes that smell like dirt out of the dryer to get ready.I wake up my grumpy dad and give him his nature smelling clothes and tell him to get ready. While my dad gets ready, I try to kill time and pack the guns that
“I Am Not My Hair”, is a beautifully written song from the soulful artist India Aria, and it perfectly captures the whole message of my essay. Braids, weaves, natural, long or short, hair has always been a pivotal point in my self-esteem and how I wanted other people to view me. Over a period of time; however, I wanted to challenge the societal norms of beauty and how that correlates to hair, so on a particular day, I decided to get all my hair chopped off. This moment not only changed my perspective on beauty, but also change the need for me to not get validation from anybody else.
As I slowly wake to the sounds of ocean waves and the smell of hot chocolate I reach and grab my phone. As I get out of bed and began to get ready I play my favorite songs singing loud and off key without a care in the world. As I walk down stairs the aroma of chocolate chip pancakes fills air. As I sit down to eat the taste dancing on my tongue, I can’t help but smile with glee. Once I finished eating I get in a cab that takes me to rehearsal for dancing with the stars. My partner Sasha Farber and I eminently begin working on our samba. We run through it so many times I feel like I can do it in my sleep.
When entering into seventh grade all I wanted to do was be a girly girl. The weird thing is I didn’t know why. Maybe because it was “in style.” But it never truly was my style. All I knew was that there was a guy named Anthony and he wore the latest brands and apparently he saw something in me that I didn’t see in myself. When my seventh grade class took our class pictures my mom had my hair in baby doll curls and an unappealing sun dress. I hated it but Anthony loved it. It was like being on the love boat all day because all I did was float in the attention that he rendered unto me during lunch and connection activities. I knew that in order for this to continue I had to switch my style up; so I did and it didn’t work. Anthony broke up with me for a girl who wore blue jeaned pants, colorful shirts and Nikes. How
"Hey boy, why are you blanking out?" An old man wearing strange white long coat type dress shouted. " Hmm... What? Who are you?"