Everyone hates me for what I am. They all think I am strange. They stare as if i were the main attraction at a freak show. I hate myself for what i am not: social, outgoing and happy. No one would miss me if I died. I cannot take the torment of living in this world anymore. I would be better off dead!
I sit on bed in my candle-lit room, the black velvet curtains drawn shut. The smoke from the burning incescents swirls throughout the room the in the pale flickering light. The melancholy sounds of Nine-Inch-Nails softly echoes in the corners. Depressed, I wonder what is wrong with me? Why does everyone make fun of me? Why do I not any friends? How come no one cares about me?
I need an escape from the insanity of my own mind? Death, it is most people's worst fear; however, it is the only thing that will liberate me from this hell on earth. In my hand I hold the key to my freedom, a razor blade. In awe I analyze the razor: it's sterile, machine precise metal, cutting edge. It is more beautiful than anything nature could produce. Holding it with my right index finger and thumb, I place it's razor edge upon my left wrist. It glistens in the candles' flames.
I stare as the shadows of the razor dance like ghosts on my forearm. I apply pressure down on the blade until the skin depresses under the metallic edge. Slowly I apply more pressure. My skin separates beneath the razor edge and the blade sinks into my flesh.
Fascinated I raise my arm to my eyes. There is no blood, despite the fact that there is a piece of metal embedded in my wrist. I lower my arm back down and again grasp the razor blade with my right hand. I slide the razor's edge along my arm, away from my wrist, and then remove the blade from out of my arm.
The razor had left a clean three and a half inch surgical incision, starting a couple of centimeters back from the bottom of my palm. Throughout all of this I did not feel a thing. Finally, blood slowly beads up along the slit. Instantaneously the cut splits open into a deep crevice. Blood gushes out from the wound, pouring onto my satin bed sheets.
My mind started to wonder though each room of the house, the kitchen where mom used to spend every waking hour in. The music room where dad maintained the instrument so carefully like one day people would come and play them, but that day never came, the house was always painfully empty. The house never quite lived to be the house my parents wanted, dust bunnies always danced across the floor, shelves were always slightly crooked even when you fixed them. My parents were from high class families that always had some party to host. Their children were disappointments, for we
...ng so, he began roaring and screaming, in order to build excitement from the crowd. What a mistake this was. As he was exciting the crowd he gave crucial seconds to his opponent. As soon as Striger recovered, he was in search of the knife. It was the same knife which caused drastic cuts onto him. It was only an arms length away. Striger stretched out his hand and grabbed reaching the tip of the blade. With his finger tip he pushed back the knife towards himself and then grabbed on to it firmly. Vintage stood not so far of from where Striger laid. The wounded Striger was now up and in search of Vintage. As soon as he found caught up with him he pounced onto him as a lion leaps over it’s pray and stabbed him right across his neck. Blood was flushing out of the neck as though it was an open tap. Vintage sucked in his last breath and then feel fast to the ground, dead.
The fresh wound didn’t seem like it would be such a problem until I saw the blood trickling out. Sure, when I had cut my self by grabbing a piece of saw palmetto, I felt my skin ripping and quickly retracted my right hand. However, my want for adventure to explore the tree island overcame the small bit of pain I felt. An adrenaline rush helped me overcome all of the annoyances pushing through the dense brim of the island, like palmetto leaves and spider webs, as well as the myriad of other obstacles upon finally penetrating.
"Get over here!" The angered and scratchy voice bellows from deep within the strong, mean-spirited ninja. The ninja throws forth a blade that is fastened to the end of a long, black rope. The sharp point of the spear pierces the skin and takes root deep within the stomach of a screaming, young woman. Blood splatters from the impact, and the ninja forcefully retrieves the blade by pulling on the rope to which it is attached. The shrieking, young woman is lurched forward, attached still to the steel blade and without the ability to defend herself. Currently, she stands paralyzed and helpless at the hands of her attacker.
I push myself off of the wall when the agony in my leg slaps me across the cheek with the force of a runaway freight train. Looking down, I realize that the handsome man’s blade still cheerfully roosts just millimeters to the right of my sternum. Silly collector, I think to myself as I carelessly draw out the flayed cobalt sheet from my torso, spewing clot and gore onto my hands. The heart is on the LEFT side. I giggle blissfully as I lick my viscera off of the blade. I turn towards my front door and see the other collector staring at me in lamented horror, unsure of whether to finish me off with the assault rifle she held in her shaking hands or to simply run away. “Oh, sorry, did you want some?” I inquire as I hold out the blade towards her. She fixes her gaze on the blade, then back to my face. “N-N…” she attempts, but resorts to just shaking her head. “More for me, then!” I state as I feebly limp past her and out of my destroyed room. I head for the elevator and bulldoze the “up” button with my fist. When the corrugated iron doors lazily shriek apart, an elderly woman and her husband look up at my face, then down to my wounds as I board the trembling
I hid my face as I sat desperately alone in the back of the crowded church and stared through blurry eyes at the stained glass windows. Tears of fear and anguish soaked my red cheeks. Attempting to listen to the hollow words spoken with heartfelt emotion, I glanced at his picture, and my eyes became fixed on his beloved dog. Sudden flashes of sacred memories overcame me. Memories of soccer, his unforgettable smile, and our frequent exchange of playful insults, set my mind spinning. I longed only to hear his delighted voice once more. I sat for what seemed like hours in that lonely yet overcrowded church; my tears still flowed, and I still remembered.
In healthcare there have many developments in record keeping and updating databases to be electronic however this has caused many conflicts to the system. It has brought issues such as privacy and confidentiality because the information is easier assessable to professionals within the NHS which causes benefit and dangers if the information is not protected. In essence it causes people to take legal action when their right has been breached with the UK law. This includes the Common Law of Confidentiality, the Data Protection Act 1998 and the Human Rights Act 1998.
Social cognitive career theory (SCCT) is a relatively new theory that is aimed at explaining three unified aspects of career development: 1. how basic academic and career interests develop, 2. how educational and career choices are made, and 3. how academic and career success is obtained. The theory incorporates a variety of concepts that appear in earlier career theories and have been found to affect career development (Lent, Brown, & Hackett, 2000).
On my hospital bed, I sit and stretch out my arms to relieve some nervous tension. My room is nothing but dull grey walls and the smell of disinfectant. My ears perk up as I listen to doctors and nurses conversing outside. Their voices grow louder and louder as I hear their feet coming closer to my door. I crane my neck towards sounds, only to spot the brass knob of my door turning. My heart begins to race and my breathing becomes shallower. I quickly pull out a pocketknife from under my pillow and slip it into my pants pocket. Stealthily, I roll out of bed, forgetting about the various tubes attached to my body. I wince in pain and tears well up in my eyes as they get yanked ou...
The healthcare practitioners bear the responsibility of ensuring that they defend and protect the rights of the patients; ensure promotion of passionate care and enhance the dignity and autonomy of their clients or patients. The practitioners are often required to choose amongst some right or options considered least wrong besides ensuring effective assessment of the patients and upholding confidentiality of the choices made. However, nurses often face many ethical issues in their everyday life in the healthcare setting. Dealing with these challenges can sometimes be problematic. There is thus the necessity for ensuring acquisition of appropriate knowledge regarding some of the skills considered
Any individual may give the preference to choose a career because of the need of society or his own personal needs. The career choice taken by most of higher secondary school students depend on their socio-economic conditions because of mostly families are not able to teach their children’s in higher institutions. Currently poverty is the main issue entire the world that is facing every less developed country and has played important determining role in the opportunities available to all. The income level of the higher school student’s families is also a main issue in deciding the career choice of the students. Crites (1969), Gambari (1990) and Salami (1997), explained that people choose the occupation because of economic reasons with the aim that these occupations will provide them the appropriate financial rewards in their desire
This also that nurses need to make sure that patients have the information about their care and the information about themselves is shared suitably and correctly. Nurses have to respect a patient’s right to confidentiality and privacy in all form of their care and also after they have died. In healthcare, nurses need to ensure that patients are well informed about how and why their information is used for and shared by healthcare providers who will be looking after them. Nurses only can share the patients’ information when necessary with their colleagues and agencies when the interests of client safety and public security revoke the need for confidentiality and also share with patients’ family and their carers, but it needs to be allowed by the law, the information they need to know about patients’ health, care and the treatment that goes on continuously and in a way they will be understand. Nurses can also cooperate with the media but only when it is suitable to do, therefore it always needs to be protecting the patients’ confidentiality and
Choosing a career can be an overwhelming experience, one may be plagued with concerns over making the incorrect career choice, being stuck in a certain field, or splurging on the incorrect major in college. While one has to make that decision on their own, there are certain tools that could help someone make that choice. One tool is career theories. There are many different theories on career choice and development, and they each have valid points. However, the two theories that I found resonated the most with my own experiences of occupational choice and development are Rhoes theories, and Super’s theory. Rhoe’s theory suggests that there is a strong correlation between a person’s childhood experiences, and how to they choose
the blade, which is a knife being held close to a person who if he