Write 250 words about one of your first childhood memories. Go into detail about
where you were when this event happened, talk about every detail that you can
remember.
Trembling, I finally allowed the hair stylist approach my head. She grabbed a brush and began brushing my hair. She tugged on some knots which inflicted some pain; that is all it took for me to burry my face into my hands once again. “It’s ok…it won’t hurt.” She lied. I remember calling her a liar in my head. She began to section my hair and then began to massage my roots. All of a sudden, I felt soothed. I remember my worries about the sizzling hair irons and iron curlers slowly fading away. There was a bunch of little girls around me getting their hair done for the big event. I assume that they were used to these whereabouts, since they were smiling. I must have had a petrified look on my face that caused all the hair stylists to look at me with awe. They stared for minutes at a time at my hair. They grabbed on it and one of them remarked, “Wow, she has horse hair!” I wasn’t too sure how I felt about that comment. I was just compared to an animal, well my hair was compared to horse hair and I didn’t get it. I was in between feeling that it was cool to have horse hair and feeling that it was embarrassing. “Yes! It’s gorgeous!” Another one responded. The final hairstylist said to me, “You have long thick hair…it might take longer than the other girls to get done. Is that ok?” Considering my mom told me it would take no longer than a couple minutes, I started freaking out. As a humble child, I just replied with a yes but I’m pretty sure tears were streaming wildly down my face because they handed me tissues. I wiped off my face and closed my eyes when the steaming hot curling iron was brought closer and closer to my hair.
The earliest memory from my childhood that I can recall at this time is when I fell into the canal over in Bound Brook. I remember that I was walking really close to the edge, of course, and I was even holding someone’s hand; it was probably that of one of my parents, but I digress. In retrospect, I don’t know how I managed to get so close to the edge of the path when my parents were right there. Anyway, all I remember is kind of a time lapse of the actual event. When I think about it, it seems like I just stepped into the water with my whole body and then coming literally right back up in such a way that’s kind of uncharacteristic of a three-year-old’s physical ability. But that’s it. For some reason that’s what my brain has distorted it to. But I do remember the shirt I was wearing. It was dark green, and it had a white cartoon outline of a giraffe on it. It was a nice shirt. I liked wearing it a lot, even though it was really big on me. Wearing such clothes was a horrible habit I had all throughout my childhood for some strange reason, and still kind of struggle with even now, at eighteen years old. What’s funny now is that for cross country we would run on that very path by the same canal, and every now and then I would flashback to that moment while I was running. And when I would get home either my mom or dad or someone will bring it up. Maybe that’s the only reason I remember it at all.
All she wants is to be held A feeling of reassurance comes along with it She just wants to be able to cry on someone’s shoulder But she knows she will never She’s too strong for that Her pride is too big to allow her to do so But little does she know that crying is not what makes her weak She needs this in life She needs to let it out Bottling it up inside a glass bottle will only last for so long That glass bottle will soon shatter At that point that’s when she will truly be weak She just doesn’t know what to do She can’t let them see her little this To be viewed as weak is not her She pulls it together and remains strong no matter what She refuses to let this be her breaking point No matter how many shoulders she is able to cry on she won’t take one To even think a weak thought is not her She will lie to herself until the day she dies She has to stay strong She knows that if she lets go for even a second everything will come falling down She knows she has a lot inside That’s what creates her biggest fear Breaking She knows all that bottled up emotions will come and eat her alive They will break her to nothing I don’t think she understands what people are trying to tell her Little does she know that if she lets it all go for the better that’s what being strong is To risk it all too make things is being strong
Today we have a huge game for our state tournament. We are playing one of the best teams in our section. I am a little nervous but mostly excited. There really is not anything to be nervous about considering we are the seventh seed playing the two seed in Newark Vocational, at Newark. It is going to be an interesting game because of their quickness and some size. However, none of us are worried because we know that we can win. No one else thinks that we have a shot, so we really have nothing to lose. All we can do is go into this game loose and relaxed and just play our game. If we do things right and play smart and do the little things, we can absolutely steal the win. Also, the fact that everyone doubts us just fuels us more. We do not need anyone to believe that we will win, because the only opinions that matter are those of the guys on this team. As long as we all believe we can win, that is all we need. I am really excited though because of how good I feel about playing this game tonight. I truly believe that we can and very well may win this game. Not only that, but we will win this game. We will play our best game of the year and we will move on and we will play Friday night, but for now, we will take it one game at a time and just focus on tonight.
Too many faces just for one person They just talk behind back of other people They smile at each other like nothing happens Once the backs are turned the backstabbing comes out A hug isn’t just a hug with them If you pull back you need to be aware not to get stabbed Fake friends, they are just fake people that enjoy making your life like living hell They pull and twist your insides waiting for you to break They enjoy seeing you suffer and wait for the tears to pour out They make you feel insecure about yourself You reach out your hand looking for someone to help you You hear laughs and mocking of you and all you can do is cuddle by yourself You still look at them wondering why they did it to you The answer: they envy you They find pleasure in your weakness and they prey on it and make sure they show everyone They make you think that you are truly their best friend but then when you least expect it BAM they go after your weakest point You look up for another sign of help and there you see a hand You grab it and they help pull you up Once you get up you see that’s it’s one of your friends You are hesitant to trust but then you see deep inside of them that they are a true friend They want to see you succeed in life and don’t want to see you fail They wish for your happiness, not for your worst nightmares to come true
Ken didn’t know how he ended up locked in the laundry room, but it’d happened. He’d drank way too much and had to piss like a racehorse, but stumbling around the halls looking for the bathroom in a strange house wasn’t as easy as it sounded. Somewhere along the hallway he’d fallen on top of a drier and next to a bunch of beer, apparently where it was all stashed. Ken hadn’t moved, by the way. He didn’t even like parties for the most part. His friends had finally convinced him to come to this one, ignoring his constant protesting, and guess what? Everything bad about it that he had thought of was true. It was loud, it was crazy, people kept talking to him, and it wasn’t his thing at all. He also didn’t want to get his face pounded in, so he sat there without drinking any of the beer that was there either. A sound of a window opening and a sudden breeze made Ken look up. One of the most stunning girls he’d ever seen nodded in greeting at him as she crawled through the small basement window. “Sup” She’d muttered in passing as she made her way over to the cases of beer. She grabbed one and popped it open, glancing at him sideways as she chugged it. She tossed to the side and grabbed two more, tossing him one as she climbed back to the window. “You coming or not?” Ken shrugged and followed her out the window. It was only once they were outside that he saw how gorgeous she was. The moonlight sparkled off of her grey-blue eyes and almost made her bleach blond hair glitter. She was dressed like she was going to a party, comfortable but casual. Her cheeks were a little rosy as well. Ken was sure that he was staring by now, so he turned away and opened his beer. “So uh, where are we going?” Ken choked out, almost unable to talk. “Keep up and you’ll see!” It sounded like she was yards and yards away. Ken turned and saw that she was already halfway down the road. He dropped his beer and took off after her. Wherever she was off to, he wouldn’t lose her. Something about her, not just her looks but how she carried herself, intrigued him. He couldn’t let her go. After he caught up to her they’d both slowed their pace a bit, but neither talked. Him because he was trying not to yell about how hot she was, and her just because it seemed not in her nature to strike up conversation. “So uh,” Ken managed to sneak out. Good start, guy. “What’s your name?” She stopped and pointed up ahead of them. When Ken looked to where she was pointing, a big smile crossed his face. Tonight was going to be awesome after all. They walked inside of the local Waffle House and had the best midnight snack of all time.
There was a group of friends who were very close. They would do everything together. They would text each other all the time and have inside jokes. At school they would sit at the same table and have so much fun. Until their junior year everything was great. One of the girls got a different lunch period and couldn’t sit with the group anymore but they promised to still text her and keep her in the group, this didn’t actually happen. Everything changed when three of the girls in the group became closer with each other than the rest of the group. This was really rude of them. The two other girls that still sat at the table felt so left out. The three of them would talk all the time about all the fun they had when they hung out. It was completely unfair of them not to include the other two girls. The three other girls should have just said so if they didn’t want to be friends with the other two girls, instead they were being fake friends. They claimed they didn’t want to start drama but it was obvious to the other two that this was just them being scared. They were the kind of girls that would rather talk behind someone’s back than face a problem head on. Situations such as this one are the reasons people hate high school. People like this do not understand what it means to be a real friend. Hopefully they will realize this later in life.
(Continuing Big House from the last conversation between Lisa and Diane...)
She narrowed her eyes at me. “You’re right, Diane. I watched you do it and since you haven’t even tried to defend yourself, I think I have my answer.” She turned away for a moment and then back towards me, her face and thoughts recomposed. Whereas before she was upset, she was now noticeably enraged.
“Do you have any idea what it’s like to live with that information? I should have reported your psychopath ass because the thing is, I still don’t trust you. How do I know you haven’t done it again? I mean, who does something like that? I’ll tell you who: one who has serious psychological problems. You’re a freaking lunatic, Diane!” She continued on this rant for a while. I zoned out for most of it but I was able to pick up some phrases along the way, such as, “deranged pyscho,” “disgusting monster,” “like Jack Nicholson in that movie.” I mean, come on. It’s a classic movie. At least know the name if you’re going to reference it, Lisa. In case you’re not familiar with the movie she referred to, it’s “The Shining.”
Her rant ended with a question directed at me—and it was not rhetorical this time:
“You honestly have nothing to say for yourself?” It sounded like a loaded question, but I answered anyway, regardless of the shit I was easing into.
Taking a breath to gather myself, I replied, “No one could help me and I grew tired of helping myself. So, I let go and accepted things the way they were.” I paused to formulate my next thoughts. “The truth was, I was curious—about death, about pain—and I had entered a corner of the world never quite explored. Just don’t ask me to take you there because I don’t think you could understand it; and I know for a fact that you could not handle it. It’s dark, Lisa. Far too dark for you.”
She looked at me, confused and disturbed. I suppose she was not expecting that answer—blunt and raw. Lisa was quiet for a while and although her feet remained stationed in the same place, her body was still inching away from me.
“I believe that’s my cue to leave.” I gathered my coat from the rack and slid it on. “Tell them whatever you want. I, uh, won’t be on the grid for a while, so that should give you enough time to forget this—and me.” With my hand on the doorknob, I turned around to face her one last time. “Do forget me, Lisa. It’s very crucial that you try.” Inhaling deeply, I observed her expression, the last I would see upon her face because our paths would never cross again—at least by nature’s doing. “Goodbye.”
Her face was torn with emotion, desperately attempting to choose between the many feelings governing it. The last look I perceived before turning around was heart-wrenching: pain in her brows, anger in her eyes, and sadness in her mouth. But I shut the door behind me and kept my eyes on the path ahead.
“I want to go visit you, I really miss you.” I would constantly remind my dad but figured there was no point. He would always answer that he wished he could have all of us go visit him, but there was no money. When he finally asked how long I would like to stay, I was shocked. “A month?” he asked, but then took it back, “I know you’ll get bored.” I knew he was right, but I didn’t want to hurt his feelings. “Maybe three weeks,” I replied, but he offered I only stayed for two weeks. That was a waste of a ticket I thought, it would be selfish to go for so little. Anytime between two and three weeks we compromised. I was very excited about seeing my dad. It had been almost two years since he had moved to California. When I landed in the airport, I waited patiently to get my bags. Then, I called my dad to see where he was. “Wait right by where you are, I’m coming in a silver Mercedes,” my dad said on the phone. I waited while I remembered my dad’s old Jeep he had left back in NJ when he moved. Just a few minutes later I saw the car drive up. I had been creating an image of a completely different lifestyle for my dad. The car wasn’t what I imagined, but it was still better than what he had owned before. My dad got out of the car to greet me. I felt warmth finally hugging my dad after so long. No matter what happened, there was always a special place for him in my heart. As we drove through the fast moving traffic, I breathed in the beautiful California weather and its image. My dad explained the six lanes as we compared the highways to the ones back in New Jersey. “I’m sorry we’re moving right now,” my dad apologized for the inconvenience. I told him I didn’t mind, I was excited to see his old house and his new house. The community he lived in before was very nice, it wasn’t a huge house like I had imagined, but the small apartment was very nice. When we moved some things into the new place I felt uncertain. My dad moved into a trailer park community. “A lot of old people live here,” my dad informed me. I realized this vacation wasn’t going to be anything like I had pictured.
She found herself crying in the bathroom stall just before third period. Her teacher wouldn’t care if she was late but she kind of felt bad, only because she would rather think about that than what was actually bothering her. Everyone else’s lives were so simple, why shouldn’t hers be?
Her hands were tied, she couldn’t make this right. She had completely messed up his career and there is nothing she can do to make it up to him. He was going to have to make a complete recovery to be able to ever play again.
His mom is in rehab and his dad is nowhere to be found. Bills keep piling up and he doesn’t know how long he can keep this situation under control before someone finds out. Suddenly, a dark stranger seems to know all of his secrets and is willing to keep them for him… but at what price?
When I was eight I lived in Plainfield. The street I lived in was like a “u” when you would turn into the street it would dip down and when you would reach the bottom it would begin to incline up. I loved that street because my friends and I would have races with our scooters up and down the street. It was fun because you would end up going really fast down that there was no need to push up the street because it would go by itself. Then there was one day that we played for hours and it started to get dark but that did not stop us. We walked up the street and got ready we checked the street to see if it was clear. It was so we took off when we were about to hit the bottom we saw a car with bright headlights coming down in front of us and there was no way of stopping because we were going to fast so we just turned into the sidewalk. My two other friends were fine but me on the other hand when I turned trying to go into a houses driveway when all of a sudden I hit the curb. The speed was great, then I hit a halting stop that I flew out about five to six feet and landed in front of my neighbors fences and all I heard was my friends calling out my name and the dog on the other side of the fence barking at me. The wind was knocked out of me. I felt like I was going to die and I could not talk. But then I got up and walked home in pain and it took me about a couple months before I could get on a scooter little alone go down the street.
One of my childhood memories was when I went to basketball camp. My first time going to basketball was excited; I wanted to learn the basics, the extremes I wanted to know everything about basketball. I practiced all week thinking I was going to go to camp and be the best there. I was confident in myself I thought I was the best. When I got to camp I saw everyone wearing the same kind of light blue shirts with the name of the camp on it and a big basketball. It was kids dunking, doing tricks everything that I didn’t know. I thought to myself “damn”. After I finished looking at the older kids I wanted to do everything there was to do. So I went to my group. I was in the group with the little kids so we did little drills like dribbling up and down the court, doing lay ups and all of the basic things. After that month I finished the camp and realized that everything isn’t for everybody. I thought I was going to be on the basketball team I thought I was going to do everything that had to do with basketball but I guess not. As I got older I started to not like sports. I did activities like play football and basketball outside with my friends but other than that I never really participated in a team or anything I was always interested in other things.
One of my first and favorite childhood memories that I can best remember is learning how to ride a bike. I learned how to first ride a bike when I was about 7 years old and that was a two wheeler. I remember always being so jealous of my boy cousin that was younger than me and knew how to ride a two wheeler while I was still on a tricycle. I always asked him to teach me how to ride the bike but all he could say was “Like this, like this, look at me do it!” No matter how much I watched him ride the bike, I couldn’t learn. I remember wearing so much protective gear like a helmet, knee pads, and elbow pads, because I was so scared of falling and hurting myself really badly. My cousin had learned on this own and I wanted to as well but when I wanted to keep going after paddling twice, I would lose control and just stop, instead of keeping on going. One hot summer day, I remember waking up so determined to learn how to ride a bike. I got up, showered, got dressed, so excited with long pants and a long sleeve shirt in the middle summer, put my paddings on and went outside. I just remember it being so hot but I didn’t care because I wanted to learn how to ride my pink bike that I had gotten for Christmas. After a few times of trying to learn, I still couldn’t get the hang of it and it got to the point where my cousin would just circle me on his bike and make fun of me. I got so mad that I wanted to run over him with my pink girly bike. Out of nowhere I got so much adrenaline inside of me and I wound up just going really fast toward him and I didn’t even realize I was riding my bike. After that, it kept getting easier and easier. I was doing turns and everything and got so comfortable with riding bike even without the paddings. It was honestly the best day of my life.
Not exactly an “early” childhood memory, but one day when I am old and wrinkly, I will definitely look back on it and remember it as one of my favorite, most memorable milestones. I recently purchased my first car, with some help from my mom, after almost a long year my goal was finally accomplished. This car symbolizes a lot in my life right now. It came up unexpectedly but at the perfect timing, renewing my faith on the saying “good things come to those who wait”. I got to pick it out with the help of my boyfriend, who is going to school to become an automobile technician. It is my trophy and representation of all the hard work, sacrifice, and saving up I endured, refraining from spending on other luxuries or going out instead of working. It suits me perfectly; from it being my favorite color, to my favorite brand, and even the model is a 330, which is my birth date. The car has allowed me to gain an entire new level of trust with my mom and it is a whole new added responsibility. It has made my life much easier considering that now I do not have to depend on my mom or anyone else to go places or get things done. I am now also able to help out with going to get groceries, taking my brothers to their practices, or my dog to his appointments- relieving some of the pressure on my mom. I am sooooooooo happyyyyyyyyy I finally got it!
When I was younger, I was scared of the dark. I was so scared it was pretty bad that every night I had to go to sleep with a lamp, not a night light. One night I was in my room with my brother playing with our toys and there was a really bad storm outside. Kali was really small so she didn’t really play with us; she just took our toys and threw them across the room. But on this night, Evan got up and left the room and Kali and I were alone in the room. Everything seemed fine and when Evan walked back into the room, the lights went out. I started screaming at Evan to put the lights back on, but I never heard him say that he wasn’t the one who turned them off because I kept screaming at him. Then I started screaming for mom and then all I heard was that to talk to her so she could find the room we were in because it was so dark. I started to cry because I was so scared and I heard my mom saying, “It’s okay Kali. Don’t cry,” but I was really the one crying and Kali was just sitting there. To this day, my mom still makes fun of me and she reminds me all the time that I was such a big baby that night. It just proves how scared I was of the dark when I was little.
Trembling, I finally allowed the hair stylist approach my head. She grabbed a brush and began brushing my hair. She tugged on some knots which inflicted some pain; that is all it took for me to burry my face into my hands once again. “It’s ok…it won’t hurt.” She lied. I remember calling her a liar in my head. She began to section my hair and then began to massage my roots. All of a sudden, I felt soothed. I remember my worries about the sizzling hair irons and iron curlers slowly fading away. There was a bunch of little girls around me getting their hair done for the big event. I assume that they were used to these whereabouts, since they were smiling. I must have had a petrified look on my face that caused all the hair stylists to look at me with awe. They stared for minutes at a time at my hair. They grabbed on it and one of them remarked, “Wow, she has horse hair!” I wasn’t too sure how I felt about that comment. I was just compared to an animal, well my hair was compared to horse hair and I didn’t get it. I was in between feeling that it was cool to have horse hair and feeling that it was embarrassing. “Yes! It’s gorgeous!” Another one responded. The final hairstylist said to me, “You have long thick hair…it might take longer than the other girls to get done. Is that ok?” Considering my mom told me it would take no longer than a couple minutes, I started freaking out. As a humble child, I just replied with a yes but I’m pretty sure tears were streaming wildly down my face because they handed me tissues. I wiped off my face and closed my eyes when the steaming hot curling iron was brought closer and closer to my hair.
ReplyDeleteThe earliest memory from my childhood that I can recall at this time is when I fell into the canal over in Bound Brook. I remember that I was walking really close to the edge, of course, and I was even holding someone’s hand; it was probably that of one of my parents, but I digress. In retrospect, I don’t know how I managed to get so close to the edge of the path when my parents were right there. Anyway, all I remember is kind of a time lapse of the actual event. When I think about it, it seems like I just stepped into the water with my whole body and then coming literally right back up in such a way that’s kind of uncharacteristic of a three-year-old’s physical ability. But that’s it. For some reason that’s what my brain has distorted it to. But I do remember the shirt I was wearing. It was dark green, and it had a white cartoon outline of a giraffe on it. It was a nice shirt. I liked wearing it a lot, even though it was really big on me. Wearing such clothes was a horrible habit I had all throughout my childhood for some strange reason, and still kind of struggle with even now, at eighteen years old. What’s funny now is that for cross country we would run on that very path by the same canal, and every now and then I would flashback to that moment while I was running. And when I would get home either my mom or dad or someone will bring it up. Maybe that’s the only reason I remember it at all.
ReplyDeleteAll she wants is to be held
ReplyDeleteA feeling of reassurance comes along with it
She just wants to be able to cry on someone’s shoulder
But she knows she will never
She’s too strong for that
Her pride is too big to allow her to do so
But little does she know that crying is not what makes her weak
She needs this in life
She needs to let it out
Bottling it up inside a glass bottle will only last for so long
That glass bottle will soon shatter
At that point that’s when she will truly be weak
She just doesn’t know what to do
She can’t let them see her little this
To be viewed as weak is not her
She pulls it together and remains strong no matter what
She refuses to let this be her breaking point
No matter how many shoulders she is able to cry on she won’t take one
To even think a weak thought is not her
She will lie to herself until the day she dies
She has to stay strong
She knows that if she lets go for even a second everything will come falling down
She knows she has a lot inside
That’s what creates her biggest fear
Breaking
She knows all that bottled up emotions will come and eat her alive
They will break her to nothing
I don’t think she understands what people are trying to tell her
Little does she know that if she lets it all go for the better that’s what being strong is
To risk it all too make things is being strong
Today we have a huge game for our state tournament. We are playing one of the best teams in our section. I am a little nervous but mostly excited. There really is not anything to be nervous about considering we are the seventh seed playing the two seed in Newark Vocational, at Newark. It is going to be an interesting game because of their quickness and some size. However, none of us are worried because we know that we can win. No one else thinks that we have a shot, so we really have nothing to lose. All we can do is go into this game loose and relaxed and just play our game. If we do things right and play smart and do the little things, we can absolutely steal the win. Also, the fact that everyone doubts us just fuels us more. We do not need anyone to believe that we will win, because the only opinions that matter are those of the guys on this team. As long as we all believe we can win, that is all we need. I am really excited though because of how good I feel about playing this game tonight. I truly believe that we can and very well may win this game. Not only that, but we will win this game. We will play our best game of the year and we will move on and we will play Friday night, but for now, we will take it one game at a time and just focus on tonight.
ReplyDeleteToo many faces just for one person
ReplyDeleteThey just talk behind back of other people
They smile at each other like nothing happens
Once the backs are turned the backstabbing comes out
A hug isn’t just a hug with them
If you pull back you need to be aware not to get stabbed
Fake friends, they are just fake people that enjoy making your life like living hell
They pull and twist your insides waiting for you to break
They enjoy seeing you suffer and wait for the tears to pour out
They make you feel insecure about yourself
You reach out your hand looking for someone to help you
You hear laughs and mocking of you and all you can do is cuddle by yourself
You still look at them wondering why they did it to you
The answer: they envy you
They find pleasure in your weakness and they prey on it and make sure they show everyone
They make you think that you are truly their best friend but then when you least expect it
BAM they go after your weakest point
You look up for another sign of help and there you see a hand
You grab it and they help pull you up
Once you get up you see that’s it’s one of your friends
You are hesitant to trust but then you see deep inside of them that they are a true friend
They want to see you succeed in life and don’t want to see you fail
They wish for your happiness, not for your worst nightmares to come true
Ken didn’t know how he ended up locked in the laundry room, but it’d happened. He’d drank way too much and had to piss like a racehorse, but stumbling around the halls looking for the bathroom in a strange house wasn’t as easy as it sounded. Somewhere along the hallway he’d fallen on top of a drier and next to a bunch of beer, apparently where it was all stashed.
ReplyDeleteKen hadn’t moved, by the way. He didn’t even like parties for the most part. His friends had finally convinced him to come to this one, ignoring his constant protesting, and guess what? Everything bad about it that he had thought of was true. It was loud, it was crazy, people kept talking to him, and it wasn’t his thing at all. He also didn’t want to get his face pounded in, so he sat there without drinking any of the beer that was there either. A sound of a window opening and a sudden breeze made Ken look up.
One of the most stunning girls he’d ever seen nodded in greeting at him as she crawled through the small basement window. “Sup” She’d muttered in passing as she made her way over to the cases of beer. She grabbed one and popped it open, glancing at him sideways as she chugged it. She tossed to the side and grabbed two more, tossing him one as she climbed back to the window.
“You coming or not?”
Ken shrugged and followed her out the window. It was only once they were outside that he saw how gorgeous she was. The moonlight sparkled off of her grey-blue eyes and almost made her bleach blond hair glitter. She was dressed like she was going to a party, comfortable but casual. Her cheeks were a little rosy as well. Ken was sure that he was staring by now, so he turned away and opened his beer.
“So uh, where are we going?” Ken choked out, almost unable to talk.
“Keep up and you’ll see!” It sounded like she was yards and yards away. Ken turned and saw that she was already halfway down the road. He dropped his beer and took off after her. Wherever she was off to, he wouldn’t lose her. Something about her, not just her looks but how she carried herself, intrigued him. He couldn’t let her go.
After he caught up to her they’d both slowed their pace a bit, but neither talked. Him because he was trying not to yell about how hot she was, and her just because it seemed not in her nature to strike up conversation.
“So uh,” Ken managed to sneak out. Good start, guy. “What’s your name?”
She stopped and pointed up ahead of them. When Ken looked to where she was pointing, a big smile crossed his face. Tonight was going to be awesome after all.
They walked inside of the local Waffle House and had the best midnight snack of all time.
There was a group of friends who were very close. They would do everything together. They would text each other all the time and have inside jokes. At school they would sit at the same table and have so much fun. Until their junior year everything was great. One of the girls got a different lunch period and couldn’t sit with the group anymore but they promised to still text her and keep her in the group, this didn’t actually happen. Everything changed when three of the girls in the group became closer with each other than the rest of the group. This was really rude of them. The two other girls that still sat at the table felt so left out. The three of them would talk all the time about all the fun they had when they hung out. It was completely unfair of them not to include the other two girls. The three other girls should have just said so if they didn’t want to be friends with the other two girls, instead they were being fake friends. They claimed they didn’t want to start drama but it was obvious to the other two that this was just them being scared. They were the kind of girls that would rather talk behind someone’s back than face a problem head on. Situations such as this one are the reasons people hate high school. People like this do not understand what it means to be a real friend. Hopefully they will realize this later in life.
ReplyDelete(Continuing Big House from the last conversation between Lisa and Diane...)
ReplyDeleteShe narrowed her eyes at me. “You’re right, Diane. I watched you do it and since you haven’t even tried to defend yourself, I think I have my answer.” She turned away for a moment and then back towards me, her face and thoughts recomposed. Whereas before she was upset, she was now noticeably enraged.
“Do you have any idea what it’s like to live with that information? I should have reported your psychopath ass because the thing is, I still don’t trust you. How do I know you haven’t done it again? I mean, who does something like that? I’ll tell you who: one who has serious psychological problems. You’re a freaking lunatic, Diane!” She continued on this rant for a while. I zoned out for most of it but I was able to pick up some phrases along the way, such as, “deranged pyscho,” “disgusting monster,” “like Jack Nicholson in that movie.” I mean, come on. It’s a classic movie. At least know the name if you’re going to reference it, Lisa. In case you’re not familiar with the movie she referred to, it’s “The Shining.”
Her rant ended with a question directed at me—and it was not rhetorical this time:
“You honestly have nothing to say for yourself?” It sounded like a loaded question, but I answered anyway, regardless of the shit I was easing into.
Taking a breath to gather myself, I replied, “No one could help me and I grew tired of helping myself. So, I let go and accepted things the way they were.” I paused to formulate my next thoughts. “The truth was, I was curious—about death, about pain—and I had entered a corner of the world never quite explored. Just don’t ask me to take you there because I don’t think you could understand it; and I know for a fact that you could not handle it. It’s dark, Lisa. Far too dark for you.”
She looked at me, confused and disturbed. I suppose she was not expecting that answer—blunt and raw. Lisa was quiet for a while and although her feet remained stationed in the same place, her body was still inching away from me.
“I believe that’s my cue to leave.” I gathered my coat from the rack and slid it on. “Tell them whatever you want. I, uh, won’t be on the grid for a while, so that should give you enough time to forget this—and me.” With my hand on the doorknob, I turned around to face her one last time. “Do forget me, Lisa. It’s very crucial that you try.” Inhaling deeply, I observed her expression, the last I would see upon her face because our paths would never cross again—at least by nature’s doing. “Goodbye.”
Her face was torn with emotion, desperately attempting to choose between the many feelings governing it. The last look I perceived before turning around was heart-wrenching: pain in her brows, anger in her eyes, and sadness in her mouth. But I shut the door behind me and kept my eyes on the path ahead.
“I want to go visit you, I really miss you.” I would constantly remind my dad but figured there was no point. He would always answer that he wished he could have all of us go visit him, but there was no money. When he finally asked how long I would like to stay, I was shocked.
ReplyDelete“A month?” he asked, but then took it back, “I know you’ll get bored.”
I knew he was right, but I didn’t want to hurt his feelings. “Maybe three weeks,” I replied, but he offered I only stayed for two weeks. That was a waste of a ticket I thought, it would be selfish to go for so little. Anytime between two and three weeks we compromised. I was very excited about seeing my dad. It had been almost two years since he had moved to California. When I landed in the airport, I waited patiently to get my bags. Then, I called my dad to see where he was.
“Wait right by where you are, I’m coming in a silver Mercedes,” my dad said on the phone. I waited while I remembered my dad’s old Jeep he had left back in NJ when he moved. Just a few minutes later I saw the car drive up. I had been creating an image of a completely different lifestyle for my dad. The car wasn’t what I imagined, but it was still better than what he had owned before.
My dad got out of the car to greet me. I felt warmth finally hugging my dad after so long. No matter what happened, there was always a special place for him in my heart. As we drove through the fast moving traffic, I breathed in the beautiful California weather and its image. My dad explained the six lanes as we compared the highways to the ones back in New Jersey.
“I’m sorry we’re moving right now,” my dad apologized for the inconvenience. I told him I didn’t mind, I was excited to see his old house and his new house. The community he lived in before was very nice, it wasn’t a huge house like I had imagined, but the small apartment was very nice. When we moved some things into the new place I felt uncertain. My dad moved into a trailer park community.
“A lot of old people live here,” my dad informed me. I realized this vacation wasn’t going to be anything like I had pictured.
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ReplyDeleteBuffalo, buffalo, buffalo, buffalo buffalo, buffalo, buffalo.
ReplyDeleteShe found herself crying in the bathroom stall just before third period. Her teacher wouldn’t care if she was late but she kind of felt bad, only because she would rather think about that than what was actually bothering her. Everyone else’s lives were so simple, why shouldn’t hers be?
Her hands were tied, she couldn’t make this right. She had completely messed up his career and there is nothing she can do to make it up to him. He was going to have to make a complete recovery to be able to ever play again.
His mom is in rehab and his dad is nowhere to be found. Bills keep piling up and he doesn’t know how long he can keep this situation under control before someone finds out. Suddenly, a dark stranger seems to know all of his secrets and is willing to keep them for him… but at what price?
When I was eight I lived in Plainfield. The street I lived in was like a “u” when you would turn into the street it would dip down and when you would reach the bottom it would begin to incline up. I loved that street because my friends and I would have races with our scooters up and down the street. It was fun because you would end up going really fast down that there was no need to push up the street because it would go by itself. Then there was one day that we played for hours and it started to get dark but that did not stop us. We walked up the street and got ready we checked the street to see if it was clear. It was so we took off when we were about to hit the bottom we saw a car with bright headlights coming down in front of us and there was no way of stopping because we were going to fast so we just turned into the sidewalk. My two other friends were fine but me on the other hand when I turned trying to go into a houses driveway when all of a sudden I hit the curb. The speed was great, then I hit a halting stop that I flew out about five to six feet and landed in front of my neighbors fences and all I heard was my friends calling out my name and the dog on the other side of the fence barking at me. The wind was knocked out of me. I felt like I was going to die and I could not talk. But then I got up and walked home in pain and it took me about a couple months before I could get on a scooter little alone go down the street.
ReplyDeleteOne of my childhood memories was when I went to basketball camp. My first time going to basketball was excited; I wanted to learn the basics, the extremes I wanted to know everything about basketball. I practiced all week thinking I was going to go to camp and be the best there. I was confident in myself I thought I was the best. When I got to camp I saw everyone wearing the same kind of light blue shirts with the name of the camp on it and a big basketball. It was kids dunking, doing tricks everything that I didn’t know. I thought to myself “damn”. After I finished looking at the older kids I wanted to do everything there was to do. So I went to my group. I was in the group with the little kids so we did little drills like dribbling up and down the court, doing lay ups and all of the basic things. After that month I finished the camp and realized that everything isn’t for everybody. I thought I was going to be on the basketball team I thought I was going to do everything that had to do with basketball but I guess not. As I got older I started to not like sports. I did activities like play football and basketball outside with my friends but other than that I never really participated in a team or anything I was always interested in other things.
ReplyDeleteOne of my first and favorite childhood memories that I can best remember is learning how to ride a bike. I learned how to first ride a bike when I was about 7 years old and that was a two wheeler. I remember always being so jealous of my boy cousin that was younger than me and knew how to ride a two wheeler while I was still on a tricycle. I always asked him to teach me how to ride the bike but all he could say was “Like this, like this, look at me do it!” No matter how much I watched him ride the bike, I couldn’t learn. I remember wearing so much protective gear like a helmet, knee pads, and elbow pads, because I was so scared of falling and hurting myself really badly. My cousin had learned on this own and I wanted to as well but when I wanted to keep going after paddling twice, I would lose control and just stop, instead of keeping on going. One hot summer day, I remember waking up so determined to learn how to ride a bike. I got up, showered, got dressed, so excited with long pants and a long sleeve shirt in the middle summer, put my paddings on and went outside. I just remember it being so hot but I didn’t care because I wanted to learn how to ride my pink bike that I had gotten for Christmas. After a few times of trying to learn, I still couldn’t get the hang of it and it got to the point where my cousin would just circle me on his bike and make fun of me. I got so mad that I wanted to run over him with my pink girly bike. Out of nowhere I got so much adrenaline inside of me and I wound up just going really fast toward him and I didn’t even realize I was riding my bike. After that, it kept getting easier and easier. I was doing turns and everything and got so comfortable with riding bike even without the paddings. It was honestly the best day of my life.
ReplyDeleteNot exactly an “early” childhood memory, but one day when I am old and wrinkly, I will definitely look back on it and remember it as one of my favorite, most memorable milestones. I recently purchased my first car, with some help from my mom, after almost a long year my goal was finally accomplished. This car symbolizes a lot in my life right now. It came up unexpectedly but at the perfect timing, renewing my faith on the saying “good things come to those who wait”. I got to pick it out with the help of my boyfriend, who is going to school to become an automobile technician. It is my trophy and representation of all the hard work, sacrifice, and saving up I endured, refraining from spending on other luxuries or going out instead of working. It suits me perfectly; from it being my favorite color, to my favorite brand, and even the model is a 330, which is my birth date. The car has allowed me to gain an entire new level of trust with my mom and it is a whole new added responsibility. It has made my life much easier considering that now I do not have to depend on my mom or anyone else to go places or get things done. I am now also able to help out with going to get groceries, taking my brothers to their practices, or my dog to his appointments- relieving some of the pressure on my mom. I am sooooooooo happyyyyyyyyy I finally got it!
ReplyDeleteWhen I was younger, I was scared of the dark. I was so scared it was pretty bad that every night I had to go to sleep with a lamp, not a night light. One night I was in my room with my brother playing with our toys and there was a really bad storm outside. Kali was really small so she didn’t really play with us; she just took our toys and threw them across the room. But on this night, Evan got up and left the room and Kali and I were alone in the room. Everything seemed fine and when Evan walked back into the room, the lights went out. I started screaming at Evan to put the lights back on, but I never heard him say that he wasn’t the one who turned them off because I kept screaming at him. Then I started screaming for mom and then all I heard was that to talk to her so she could find the room we were in because it was so dark. I started to cry because I was so scared and I heard my mom saying, “It’s okay Kali. Don’t cry,” but I was really the one crying and Kali was just sitting there. To this day, my mom still makes fun of me and she reminds me all the time that I was such a big baby that night. It just proves how scared I was of the dark when I was little.
ReplyDelete