Death, violence, and love were the three main components of my life. The love of money, cars, clothes, sex, and girls was what I lived for. But the love of attention cost me everything. The love to be in the “spotlight” and the love to have everything I wanted, everything that I thought I needed. But that is what cost me everything. The attention, the sex, the money, the cars, all of these things brought upon the violence and the deaths. These “loves” cost me the one person that I ever truly loved the most and the best out of everything. I have always been book smart. I got all A’s and B’s through all of school and never really went anywhere after school. My mother was kind of strict and did not want me to hang around the kids at my school and neighborhoods because they were just “no good” she would always say. She worked her ass off day and night to provide a good life for me. Since my father was not in my life she wanted to be able to give me everything I ever wanted and needed and she did just that. My mother went to school, while still working and taking care of me. So she just tried her best by me. I was her only son so she was a little more protective than most parents. Even though I never really talked to no one, everybody knew me regardless in school and in my neighborhood. But I did not have someone I could truly call my friend, I only had acquaintances. Not until Deshawn Johnson came along. It was the first month of my ninth grade year and I was sitting in my English class. Deshawn walked in and gave the teacher a piece of paper. She directed him where to sit, which was at my table. He had a hard, mean-looking face, dark eyes, and a mustache and beard. Simply put, he looked like a grown man. ... ... middle of paper ... ... turned around instantly and she was laying on the ground, covered in her blood. When I looked up Raphael was gone. That day Jessie died. I felt my life was over, I never recovered from it and I never will because I feel like it was my fault she died. Raphael was later found and put away for life. I got out the drug game, got a real job, and stopped dealing with weed all together I do not even smoke it anymore. I lost the one person I loved the most over something that was not even worth it. So I had to cut all ties with almost everything that reminded me of her. I am still friends with Deshawn, Arthur, Sam, and Rio but I do not really talk to them like that. A very, very long story short I lost all that I loved from the things that I thought I loved; from things that were not really important from the beginning and definitely did not matter in the end.
Love in literature can be deceiving; severely blinding even the best of moral judgement. Memories are slurred into massive orgies of embellished happiness. Excruciating pain is condoned through the idea that tolerance is a sacrifice for “love”, whilst creating obstinate aspirations that prove to be delusional. There is this existing normality of grief to be associated with the act of “altruism” or “compassion”, however, when the vision of this so-called “love” is purloined, the only consolation left is a state of torment. Written moralities are forced to endure a slur of emotions that would utterly destroy the soul of a person. However, these stages of Grief; denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance, are essential to finding
During my first few weeks, I met a student named Joseph. He towered over me at 6-foot-4 and weighing 300 pounds. At first, I didn't know what to expect from him.I was surprised to learn he had failed the 9th grade twice and with this being his third try he was in the same grade as his younger brother, Jason. Joe and I became friends fast. I was treated differently because of my skin color but Joe did not judge me. Through students chit-chatter, I learned Joe was very popular and on the football team but had unexpectedly quit his first year. Joe struggled with his classes especially in English and Mathematics. One day in English, another kid was struggling to read a passage aloud, the classroom was filled with snickers and the teacher made the poor kid continue. After class, Joe comforted the kid and made him smile. That was his talent,, he had the ability to make people feel better.
I cannot even begin to explain how it varies between how my mom and her seven siblings were all taught and raised. My older sister Tasha was usually the reason most of the rules I have today, were put in place. She was kind of a rebel child. Brittany followed in her footsteps. I threw my parents for a loop when I graduated not only from Utica High School, but from Career Technical Education Center of Licking County with honors and passing my registry exam becoming a Registered Medical Assistant. I really surprised them when I decided to go to college. I was their first child to attend college. My mother was extremely proud of me and even cried because she was so blessed to be able to afford to send me through college. Growing up, my mother was not given the opportunity to go to college due to financial
Through many writers’ works the correlation of mortality and love of life is strongly enforced. This connection is one that is easy to illustrate and easy to grasp because it is experienced by humans daily. For instance, when a loved one passes away, even though there is time for mourning, there is also an immediate appreciation for one’s life merely because they are living. In turn, the correspondence of mortality and a stronger love for life is also evident in every day life when things get hard and then one is confronted by some one else whom has an even bigger problem, then making the original problem seem minute. This is seen as making the bad look worse so then the bad looks good and the good looks even better. The connection of mortality and one’s love for life is seen in both T.S. Eliot’s The Wasteland and Yulisa Amadu Maddy’s No Past No Present No Future.
There was this boy that grew up while his mother returned to college, his father was there whenever he could be, and his grandmother, an English teacher. This boy is me and my childhood. I have always had the natural ability to remember things and have historically done well in school. I am a smart individual that Education has always been an integral part of my upbringing, and I might as well be phenomenal at a required task.
I will discuss the similarities by which these poems explore themes of death and violence through the language, structure and imagery used. In some of the poems I will explore the characters’ motivation for targeting their anger and need to kill towards individuals they know personally whereas others take out their frustration on innocent strangers. On the other hand, the remaining poems I will consider view death in a completely different way by exploring the raw emotions that come with losing a loved one.
When I first changed elementary schools, I was shy and concerned that this would keep me from making friends. I moved to Harper just before finishing second grade, but it wasn’t until August of that year that I actually attended school in Harper. At first, I’d spend my recesses walking the playground and watching children play with their friends. After my first few days of school, students began to bully me about my size, appearance, or shyness. Counselor visits became a regular and my once happy nature slowly became a rarity. I don’t remember how long I’d been in Harper before Samuel and I met. He once stood up for my when I was being called fat and we had been friends ever since.
First of all, my perceptions of my greatest strengths display that reasoning and enthusiasm to learn are some of my greatest strengths, however, my mother reports that my greatest strengths which we did not share were English skills, kindness, politeness, and trustworthiness. Another question in which our opinions differed was that I was not in high school long enough to have a solid experience which to explain about, but on the other hand, my mother had a great experience in high school, enjoyed school overall, and had mostly wonderful teachers. Lastly, my worries for myself in this school year include falling behind in my advanced class, not obtaining perfect A’s throughout the year, or accidentally being late. However, my mother had absolutely no fears or worries for me this year in school, demonstrating that she has a great deal of faith in me. Between my perceptions of my skills and my mother’s perception of them, the fact that there are differences between our opinions has been validated with these pieces of
It was at Cline Elementary in the 2nd grade during recess when I saw two boys walking towards me. I knew that one of the boys were named Nick and the other was his cousin. At the time, I knew exactly what they were going to do, and I was right. "So, how are you and your disgusting boyfriend.", he sneered. This was everyday of my life, "He's not my boyfriend!", I fired back, "We're just friends." Back and forth we spat out venomous comments to each other.
We all have had a time in our lives when everything is going swell. But, what about the times in our lives when everything is broken, shattered, turned to ash. One must decide to fight or flight. I decided to fight my way back to being a whole human and bring peace back to my life. Without the literary device of poetry and lyric, I might as well not be here today. The pieces, “words Hurt”, “You and I”, “Caraphernelia,” “Dead and Buried”, and, “the road not taken”, have had a great impact on my life.
stories of the tragic effect of a love so strong that it can kill sets the table for the
She never told me how to dress a certain way in order to keep up with the latest fashions. She never told me how to wear my hair in a way that the other girls wouldn't make fun of me for. She never even told me how to apply makeup to my adolescent face. I don't think she ever knew how to put it on herself. My mother was always a simple woman. A brush of mascara, a touch of the gloss, and she was done.
I had expected my performance in school to make me truly happy when it really couldn’t. When something as important as my identity failed me, I felt empty. Although the real reason for this emptiness was unimportant, it revealed a much larger and deeper issue. Instead of putting my confidence in unfailing love, I had let a worldly concern determine my
I remember when I first met Soren as clear and crisp as the wind that blew that early September morning. He had just come to America from Denmark the previous week, we were both nervous but he was sweating and very pale. We were both starting new schools, but he was starting in a new country as well. I arrived at our new high school an hour early, and the first thing that struck me was a boy my age with shockingly bright blonde hair. I went to sit with him at the bus stop in hopes of striking up a conversation and perhaps making a friend.
It started out with parents that were always interested in education, mine and their own, whenever I learned something new; they were always interested in it also. I was taught from the beginning much about the things around me, outdoors and in. I remember when I was in high school my mother would actually want to work with me on calculus, b...