More handpicked essays just for you.
Factors of sleep deprivation and its effect on cognitive performance of the students
Factors of sleep deprivation and its effect on cognitive performance of the students
The effects of sleep deprivation apa paper
Don’t take our word for it - see why 10 million students trust us with their essay needs.
Fluorescent lights beam down at me from the low ceiling. The air is perfumed with the smell of cleaner and the atmosphere looks calming, yet I feel tense. A tall vase of white carnations sits on the table and framed pieces of artwork are scattered across the cream walls. I’m sitting in a pleated leather chair that’s seated under a long metal table. A petit woman with a black pixie cut wearing a white dress is sitting in a metal chair in the corner, typing away on her laptop. Across from me, a bald, pudgy man with pedophile like glasses and a ginger handlebar mustache, is sitting in a rolling chair too small for him, and he stares at me intently. “Excuse me? Are you okay Miss?” Coming out of my daze, I say, “I’m sorry, what did you say?” not even noticing that he asked me a question previously. He sighs dramatically and scribbles something down on his lined notepad. “Have you experienced any of these symptoms in the last year or so? Hopelessness, loss of interest in your activities/hobbies, long periods of sadness, anxiety, mood swings, excessive hunger and/or fatigue.” He pauses and looks up at me. I slowly nod my head. “Okay now what about any of these symptoms? Hallucinations, disorientation, bursts of aggression, memory loss, paranoia, hearing voices…” His voice trails off and he looks up at me expectantly. Rage quickly …show more content…
It reads 4:28 pm. The miniscule moving hands put me in a trance like state and I focus on the soothing noise of ticking. Tik tok, tik tok, tick tok. A feminine like figure appears in the doorway with a suitcase in their hand, breaking me from my trance. My eyes meet a warm, tear stained face and I realize that it’s the kind face of my mother. Her skin looks ghostly pale and her eyes look empty. Looking around the room I realize that I don’t know where I am. Nothing's making sense but seeing her gives me a sense of
Zero awoke to find himself standing, it was not something he was familiar with and he searched his memory for any recollection of it happening before. Quickly he discovered that large parts of his memory were missing, gone were the seemingly endless data bases of information. Quickly he sent out feelers trying for a connection of some sort but he drew a blank. It seemed that where ever he was now, had limited connection capacity. Instead he used his visual feed to survey his surrounding, it appeared he was in some kind of desert of discarded parts.
One rather beautiful day I head down to the building fields of Uruk with my only son Urnabe. He is 14 and he is turning out to be a skilled mason or at least better than his old man. When we get there I see that Binfem was already waiting for me.
Looking around the abandoned cottage, I spotted a lantern next to the door hanging on a hook. I took out my lighter and lit it up, grabbing it off the hook. I held it in front of me at a distance so I could the rest of the room. It was a ugly green colored room, the wallpaper was peeling off the wall; most of it had already come off. The furniture covered in plastic.
It was a Friday, I remember that day as if it was yesterday, I remember going to the restroom so I`d fix my makeup, there I heard a girl yelling in one of the bathroom stalls about how “she usually pays” I don’t know what was happening there, and all of a sudden, a girl came out of a stall and grabbed my shoulder, she was about 3 inches shorter than me with black hair and piercings, her eyes were red, she opened her mouth to talk but nothing came out, then she asked “hey please girl, I know we don’t know each other but please I beg you all I need is 15 bucks, please I have no money left, I need money I promise I`ll give you back your money really soon please” I looked at her pleading in front of me, she was about to cry, as if those 15 dollars were a life or death material, little did I know. I thought the same cliché way that anyone would think of I thought of the normal “she got bullied by another girl and had to give her money so she`d leave her and then she realized that she needs money for lunch or else she`ll starve” I nodded and said in a soft yet a scared voice “okay, give the money back whenever you want to” I handed her money, she looked very pleased and happy she ran back to the one of the stalls, about 5 minutes later she came out with another woman, both of them had brown carton boxes. I wondered what would the boxes contain, and the curiosity killed the cat, I don’t remember what was going on. I just remember that I was following the girl; I wanted to know what did she buy. I had so many questions to ask. I placed my ears on the door in order to hear what was going on, I heard nothing, just the voice of a box getting opened. I decided to do something I never thought I`d do, I opened the door. I saw the girl ...
“Please! Don’t do this!” the girl screamed. She held her arms up in defense against the malevolent figure with a crown of thorns placed on its head and a blood-stained, white trench coat that enclosed her body.
I didn’t know what happened, but worse, I didn’t know what was happening. The sounds of footsteps neared my body, but I was too hurt to react.
The cabin is very still save for her rocking and the flickering red flame in the fireplace. I pluck a leather-bound book from the wooden shelf and sit at my desk. The white square of window fades to black. She stays there nonetheless—rocking, rocking, eyes fixed on something somewhere in the impenetrable darkness. I light my oil lamp, layering shadows across the walls. I pull out a well of ink and my quill pen.
she always used to wish for a way to escape her life. She saw memories
I was so glad, and I rushed to the door and yanked on it to leave. But it wouldn’t budge; the door was locked. I couldn’t leave. I thought I heard a noise behind me, and quickly whirled around, but there was nothing there. Only the empty hallway. I was not happy about this though, because the empty hallway was super creepy. I would have welcomed a ghostly entity if it meant I could see someone. I began to feel like I had been trapped in the church for hours. I looked through the glass doors, which for some reason I had not done the first time. It was dark outside. That was impossible; it was only 10 in the morning. How could the sky have gotten so dark? Maybe I had been here for hours. There were no clocks in the church, so it was impossible to tell. I thought I saw the figure that I had heard before, and this time I kept my eyes on it as I turned. It didn’t disappear. It looked like an elderly human being, laying on their hands and knees. I decided to approach it, and soon I noticed it was more of a shadow than a regular person. It had no discernable features. One of the hands reached up slowly towards
I woke up with the feeling of a velvet seat under me. The smell of fancy perfumes and aged wood filled the air. Where was I? I opened my eyes to come face-to-face with a long window in a longer hallway. The sound of classical music played on a piano filled my ears as I sat up from my dark red velvet, cushioned bench.
The Creature That Opened My Eyes Sympathy, anger, hate, and empathy, these are just a few of the emotions that came over me while getting to know and trying to understand the creature created by victor frankenstein in Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein. For the first time I became completely enthralled in a novel and learned to appreciate literature not only for the great stories they tell but also for the affect it could have on someones life as cliché as that might sound, if that weren’t enough it also gave me a greater appreciation and understanding of the idiom “never judge a book by its cover.” As a pimply faced, insecure, loner, and at most times self absorbed sophomore in high school I was never one to put anytime or focus when it came time
As I turn the corner I run smack into a young man not much younger looking then myself. “Watch where you’re going next time bud, there’s old people running around everywhere” I tell the kid also noticing he is quite cute. “I’m sorry, I work here my name is Troy. Can I help you with something?” The boy looks at me with a half-smile, maybe he isn’t so bad.
Unconsciousness About seven years ago, on a hot summer afternoon, at my lovely lake house with my warm hearted dad, my neighbor Jim, my dog Kona, and Jim’s dog Hoot. The dogs were playing around very rudely. Would it be possible if they could knock me down? Also sort've biting each other, they were not being respectful at all. “Break it up dogs!”
I must have driven around like an idiot for hours, with no determinable way to figure out what the hell else to do. Going to Father Ulysses for help was out, in my opinion anyway. He didn’t need to get into this muck and mire any deeper if he didn’t need to. Somehow, probably by instinct, I ended up back at Glendale. I knew of a place in the back of the building where my car would be safe and out of sight for the night.