I did nothing for a while besides sit there. Harry was right. As stupid as it sounded I was afraid of people's pity. If they pitied me, they might start to care for me. I was scared of someone caring about what I did after nobody had for so long. If they started to care for me, I might start to trust them, believe them, love them, but then they would just betray me. Just like my mother's love had.
I was scared of carrying the burden of somebody else's expectation. I did not need more on my mind to think about. I already worried about paying bills and keeping my mother and I off the street; I didn't need to worry about caring what somebody else thought of my actions.
Besides my worried thoughts, I also thought about how badly my conversation with Harry had gone. I wanted to slap myself across the face, but with the injuries I had sustained, it would be another thing to add to the list of stupid things I had done that day.
I didn't even get why Harry had gotten so angered. I didn't want his pity, so what? Why was that such a big deal to him? He was so pissed off when I told him I didn't want his pity party. Why? He was a complicated boy.
I took a deep breath and sighed. I might as well stop asking myself questions that I didn't know the answers to; questions I'd never know the answer to. Besides, I didn't need to know the answers to those questions. Knowing all the answers to such trivial things would get me nowhere in life.
One question I wish I knew the answer to was when I could get out of this hospital. Not that being stuck in a room twenty-four hours a day wasn't great or anything, but it was getting boring just sitting in my room.
Besides the boredom that I felt whilst being in this room, I was also starting to stink. We...
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... be on the streets. She had somewhere safe to stay now. Even if I didn't have a place to stay, at least she did.
After hours of walking the streets of London, I finally laid down on a bench. I didn't have anymore energy and I stunk. I hadn't taken a shower in days and it was obvious. Not just in my appearance, but in the stench that surrounded me.
It was getting pretty dark now. This was probably where I was going to sleep. I had nowhere else to go. A park bench didn't seem like that bad of a place to be for a night. I promised myself I'd find a better place to stay.
I wanted to cry, but my I couldn't. I wouldn't let myself. I felt like I had turned my heart to stone. I felt the same as when Isabelle had died; I felt nothing.
I liked it that way, though. The less you cared, the less you could get hurt. And the less that you got hurt, the happier you'd be, right?
that I was afraid so I decided to do it anyway, I didn't want them to
could not escape a feeling that this was my own funeral, and you don’t cry in that case”
"That was something I never did; it was dangerous. First, it was dangerous if you felt like that about anything, because then you'd never get it or something or someone would take it away from you; then it was dangerous because nobody would understand you and they'd only laugh and think you were crazy", (Ellison 43).
...a half years ago, I figured that compared to most people, I was fairly aware. Since then, the most important thing I’ve learned is how much I don’t know. I don’t know what it is like to go to class and be the only dark spot on white linen. I don’t know what it is like to have to fight mentally, physically, and spiritually to preserve a cultural identity. I don’t know what it is like to fear running at night. I don’t know what it is like to be feared if I run at night. I don’t know what it is like to live under a shroud of stereotypes. I don’t know what it is like to have people who instruct me subtly ignore me and people who sit next to me subtly avoid me.
“I woke up from the nightmares with a cold fear,” she said. “I came to a point where I didn’t want to die, but just wanted to be dead.”
I watched in horror, my eyes widening, as August gasped and stumbled to the floor. OUCH! August looked like he was about to cry, eyes filling with tears.
She knew that she would weep again when she saw the kind, tender hands folded in death; the face that had never looked safe with love upon her, fixed and gray and dead.
My dream place would be a house on a Galapagos Island. My land will be located on the Isabella Island. It will be nice and relaxing because it has a constant weather all that time, perfect environment. Also I will have a nice 2 floor cabin. The cabins will look like the ones that you see in forest. My whole family will live there after I am 75. But before that I will spend my time gathering all the money to buy a piece of land, a plane, a boat, and some vegetable seed (lot of them). I want my dream place to be nice and relaxing where you can enjoy the environment and very peaceful weather.
It was my dream to always own my own home. My wife and I set out to purchase a house on our own. In our process of trying to be first-time homeowners, we looked at so many houses until we were about ready to say maybe now is not the time. One day we were out driving not really looking and stumbled upon a house which we thought would be our home. We got the information we needed and made the call to see the house. The house was a newly built house with all the amenities my wife wanted. Not knowing the ends and the outs of purchasing a house, we thought that it could not be that hard. We went all in for this house, our house. The builder/realtor was not willing to negotiate the asking price of the house. We were even expected to pay closing cost. The contract included a lot of costs which we also found out were non-negotiable. Had we been represented by a agent, things may have gone a little differently. We were then told that there was another contract on the house and it would be taken. We lost the house we considered or thought would be our home.
The fleeting changes that often accompany seasonal transition are especially exasperated in a child’s mind, most notably when the cool crisp winds of fall signal the summer’s end approaching. The lazy routine I had adopted over several months spent frolicking in the cool blue chlorine soaked waters of my family’s bungalow colony pool gave way to changes far beyond the weather and textbooks. As the surrounding foliage changed in anticipation of colder months, so did my family. My mother’s stomach grew larger as she approached the final days of her pregnancy and in the closing hours of my eight’ summer my mother gently awoke me from the uncomfortable sleep of a long car ride to inform of a wonderful surprise. No longer would we be returning to the four-story walk up I inhabited for the majority of my young life. Instead of the pavement surrounding my former building, the final turn of our seemingly endless journey revealed the sprawling grass expanse of a baseball field directly across from an unfamiliar driveway sloping in front of the red brick walls that eventually came to be know as home.
Each year millions of dollars are spent on therapy because people want to re-live their childhood. These people discover late in life that childhood was the time period where the most meaningful parts of life were. Things from our past don't just fade away, they are part of us, and most people greatly miss them weather they know it or not. My most meaningful place is my parents' house because it is a symbol of reliving my childhood, indulging in good times, and just plain feeling at home.
place I would have to go to before and after school. I have always loved my
Do you ever wonder why certain places mean so much to certain people? When I think of my bedroom, I realize why some people are touchy about who goes in their room or who has been touching things in their home, it is because those things are important to them and may have some meaning. Places like my bedroom are places where we can relax and be comfortable and I think that is why it is important to people, because we can be ourselves and feel comfortable, we can also just sit down and rest our bones and relax. Another important reason is we can go there when we want privacy, we can just shut our door, maybe even lock it, and tell everyone in our household not to bother us. Also our rooms hold most of our personal belongings and those things are important to us and we do not want anyone else to touch them or in some cases go near them.
..., but no trace of tears. I suppose, then, your heart has been weeping blood?’” (344).
“Oh, sorry. I was just thinking about something. You know, Mother.” I said desperately, letting tears roll down my cheek. Gleam understood this and immediately tried to cheer me up. She came over and...