My Account

My Life

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My Life

Some people may be writing this essay not so much about themselves, but about the things that they do or the activities they enjoy. Ex. I listen to this band The Obnoxious Yellers, they are so great they yell and scream and its great music, I went to their concert the other day too it was so fun we got cotton candy and crown surfed and everything. This is not an essay about the writer, it is about someone else, and somewhere else. I intend on informing whoever is going to read this piece of who I am, why I am, what I am, and what I intend to become.

I was born in Brooklyn, NY. I lived there for 2 years before moving to Greenwich, CT. Until now I never really thought much of the town, for I never really had a glimpse of any other aspect of living. Then through my adolescence, which technically I am still in, I traveled, for vacation and just for plain curiosity. I took the train to Philadelphia when I was 13 just to see what it was like, and returned later that day with a more enlightened state of mind. I have done the same for many towns through the years, and come to appreciate the surrounding that I live in now. It came to me when reading TIME magazine, I came upon an article that in on sentence compared one of the poorest living areas in the U.S., to one of the wealthiest ones. Compton Vs. Greenwich. After just seeing those two words together like that meant something, the writer was viewing Greenwich as top living conditions, and I’m here. Weird.

I like to go out at night, I like to go to parties, I like to have parties, I do not like a night without a party. This summer I worked on the weekends at 6:30 in the morning which meant that the normal person would have to wake up pretty darn early, not me I would just find the party that was going to go on the longest and stay there all night until work. Typical amount of sleep from Friday to Sunday was 4 hours. That’s what I like to do, well at least after I figured out the meaning of life and decided not to hold anything back. Life was meant to be lived, we were not put here to work, or do anything for that matter. Humans were given (I don’t necessarily mean by God ((And I don’t imply that there is such a being))) the most complex minds because they were meant to be used. And living in a conformist society, a dictatorship such as the one we live in today is not what we were supposed to do. Life is meant to be enjoyed, but now that we have ruined our own lives without even knowing it there are some guidelines that we must go along with such as going to school. This is a given, there is no way that anyone is going to get anywhere in life without going to school, and doing well.

The human imagination has been, over the years depleted from newborn children. It is like imagination is an ingredient in a person, and some people are just starting to leave it out. I feel sometimes like I am the only person with one.

Ok, you think i'm crazy. Christ almighty, I asked this kid to write an essay about himself and he is going on about the meaning of life, what is this all about? Which brings me to stereotypes. If someone read this, a normal reaction to think was that it was written by a strategy club member, or some “weird” kid. I pretty much look like the typical teenager. I have realized that these groups of kids are not so much rebelling by wearing all black, but just realizing that we are being dictated without even knowing it. They, as I have, found the meaning of all humanity, to some extent.

As you can see I am a very philosophical person. If you know me long enough you will find me uttering remarks about reality, and how something that just happened was misinterpreted by our minds. I have a lot of theories, and hope to publish them someday, when I can get my writing to a reasonable level of clarity. Let me enlighten you.

Everything around us is supposedly what it is. What if it is an illusion? What if we are really just a brain sitting in a field with billions of other brains, just like us. This whole humanity thing is just a program given to us to keep us from figuring out the truth, and rebelling against whoever is holding us. Maybe, the answer to 2+2 is really flk.

I have learned to question everything. My life’s goal is to learn what the real world is. Why people do what they do, and what they don’t do. Where are we? Aha…the universe? NO!!!! NOT A POSIBILITY!!! There is no way that we are in a universe. Everything has to be somewhere, and the universe is nowhere, people say that it goes on forever, but there has to be an edge to the universe, which is supposedly racing forever out. Maybe we are really just little creatures on another planet. But where is that planet, the idea of space is a physical impossibility.

Now that you are completely and utterly confused…

One of the first thoughts that may have come to your head was, what a hypocrite, he said not to write about experiences, etc. He said to write about yourself…and I just did. That is me, a circle of thoughts, never-ending, never solved because there are endless possibilities, one day I am planning on going insane from all of these thoughts for I have serious doubts that my questions will never be answered. Some people also doubt my academic capabilities. I have more mental capacity that everyone that has ever doubted me. I choose what to apply myself in, for the last 2 years of high school I have been lost in my thoughts, searching for an identity, a place to go, a place to sit, and what to do. However this year there is a serious catch, college. This means that I basically have to get all As this year in a vain attempt to make up lost ground. Which I am going to do, because I can. This is where I am forced to coincide with the world…I don’t think that Georgia Tech. (Where I plan to play golf) will let me in based on my unprecedented knowledge of life.

A final thought: When you are sitting on a street corner for instance, maybe waiting for a ride a friend anything. You might start to throw little pebbles at another object to pass the time, maybe a street sign. You throw for about 5 minutes, and then hear the clinging sound as your stone makes contact with the stop sign that you have been so intent on hitting. Wait, now there is nothing to do, what an anti-climax. I have realized that all the fun in hitting the sign is the leading up part to hitting it, where you get the feeling of self-improvement because you get closer and closer and closer. The question that you have to ask yourself is… do you really want to hit the sign?

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MLA Citation:
"My Life." 03 Dec 2016

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