...November 30th 2012, 21:08 I remember all the times where you and I would merge into one another. We would move in and out and through so freely and unconditionally. I was you, and you were me. That's what we were, we were eachother, just one power with the ability to control two. You see, that's what you did to me, you controlled me and you still control my thoughts and capture them just like you used to. There is no love lost between you and I, but that's about all that remains. We could have been one, but together we are dead, apart, we are able to fly freely just like we never could when I had you and you had me. I think of all we were and dream of all we could have been. People always say that some things you never get over. All this time, I wondered, how could something be so powerful? So powerful that it is never overcome? But now I know, only now do I know how it feels to be trapped by a power stronger than you could ever be. Addiction happens sooner than you can say it, but it's not just an addiction, it is a never ending desire for fulfilment, a fulfilment that can only be achieved if you take one too many pills, put too much pressure on the blade, an addiction eats away at you. It leaves you with nothing but everything you once had left in tatters beneath you. Maybe I'd never fully understand it, but maybe I didn't want to. My understanding is enough and it will always be enough for me. I don't know why the thought of you being with anyone or even happy...
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...DAILY DESIDERATUM On a lazy Sunday afternoon , I got off the bus and walked up to a small cottage with peeling paint and faded curtains . A voice behind me asked “ Are you looking for somebody “?......... I flinched at the voice that broke the stillness of the environs . I turned around nervously and was shocked to see her “Grandma , what are you doing here ? And that too on a Sunday?” . Grandma has always been a home bound person, specially so after grandpa’s demise and never ventured out to meet people . “Well , That is a story . But what would bring you here ?” . She asked . her wrinkles twitching a bit surprisedly . “That is also a story . But you have to tell me yours first “. Her then pleasent face became pale for a second . Clutching the walking stick with both hands , she moved towards a worn out bench at the side and beckoned to me . I sat next to her , all ears to take in everything that she has got to say . But all I saw was her eyes fixed on the distant vastness . So it was easy to interpret what it was about . I took the initiative . “ So, who was he ? “ . Grandma gave a sly smile . Yes . So that was it . That was indeed an admissible grin . I convinced myself . “He was my penfriend . And he died yesterday...around this time” . I stared at her , quite confused at seeing her emotionless face that still didn’t break the focus.”I know why you stare at me that way . I have been an invisible friend to him for 30 years “. I let out a loud gasp . ”30 years ? Grandma that’s...
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...“Game Mode” as I would like to call it. She’ll be too focused on winning and stealing the ball from me that she will do anything to win. It was early in the morning, there were birds chirping while a cool breeze was in the air. Dalia, my little sister, and I arrived outdoors to play a game of soccer. I dashed towards the goal with the soccer ball in front of me ecstatically thinking that I was on my way to making a goal. Unexpectedly, my sister catches up and steals the ball away from me. Surprised, I tried to steal it from her but failed as I heard the ball hit the net...
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...ACCOMPLIS Kacee Kotsano Note: “Always remember it is the past that makes us, The future, which will break us, And the present time which will determine us. However, as one door swings open, another shall shut, Closing behind of what was left to come undone, Revealing after all that he truly was, Only the accomplis. Not apart of that man, But by any other name he‘d still Never be accepted, Only judged by what was in front, Not what was truly divine?” 'Tis but thy name that is my enemy. Thou art thyself, though not a Montague. What's Montague? It is nor hand, nor foot, nor arm, nor face, nor any other part Belonging to a man. O, be some other name! What is in a name? That which we call a rose . By any other name would smell as sweet. So Romeo would, were he not Romeo called, Retain that dear perfection which he owes Without that title. Romeo, doff thy name; And for that name, which is no part of thee,…’ Quote Juliet- Romeo and Juliet: William Shakespeare Prologue He sat there by the fogged up window sitting on the old box seat, he was staring out at the rain that was falling on the ground, the rain had been pouring down ever since dawn that morning and to be honest it was annoying the shit out of him. It beat down at the ground so hard that all the roses in the front garden had, their leaves torn apart so now they looked like dark red smudges against the earthy...
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...You should never cry it shows weakness with my dad left I never cried with my grandmother passed it took me weeks to cry that it was only for a few minutes who would've thought I cried over a piece of burnt toast it was the last day the musical everything was going as is but fortunately for me everything was falling apart that but a good note woods to be my friends were leaving left and right they just all woke up what day and decided I wasn't good enough it didn't strike me as it usually would I was under a lot of stress because I was feeling a class at the musical is coming up soon so if they have time to worry about petty high school drama so I left it be I did see myself changing or worry about what others thought so the book before...
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...4. The worst way to miss someone is when they are right beside you and yet you know you can never have them. 5. I love him but I cannot show it, want him but he cannot know it, need him but I know it'll never be, if only he needed me. 6. I get the best feeling in the world when you say hi to me, or even smile, because I know even if just for a second, I crossed your mind. 7. I wonder, what I could Do or say to make him like me. I wonder, what or who I need to be, to be his. I wonder, when just being me will be enough. 8. Should I smile cause were friends, or should I cry cause that's all well ever gonna be. 9. I look at him as a friend, then I realized I loved him. 10. We are afraid to care to much, for fear that the other person does not care at all. 11. If you love something, set it free if it comes back, it was meant to be. If it continues to fly, let it soar, have faith that God has something better in store. 12. You don't know what you mean to me, you don't have a clue, you can't tell by looking at me what I feel for you. 13. Don't push your relationship with a person too hard, if its meant to be then it will happen. 14. Have you ever hated somebody so much that you wish they would just leave and never come back but yet, loved them so much, you knew you'd die if they did? 15. I think it's weird when I love you, I think it's weird when I want you, when...
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...J October 19, 2012 English 1101 C What do they know? What do parents know about having fun and being immature? Do they really know what it is like to want to have fun as a teenager in a small town? Maybe making a few mistakes when you think one of your parents are not looking can prove that some parents are actually teenagers in their own soul. I was raised in a small town in Wisconsin of around 2,000 people. I grew up out in the country about ten miles out of town where there is nothing around besides woods and corn fields. When friends would come over all there was to do was raise some hell, and see if we could get away with it, and raising hell is what we did best. My parents were hard workers. My father worked at a factory and my mom as a hair stylist. They were strict parents to an extent. They were the kind of parents that raised me to respect my elders, and if I did wrong I knew there was going to be a punishment. Punishments usually never crossed my mind though, because of course you have to get caught doing wrong to get punished. Which I never thought I would, and sometimes I would not get caught. Until the summer I thought my friends and I got away with the best party of all time. My parents never would leave town for a weekend, and on the rare occasions that they did I would not be left the house to myself. I would be stuck staying at a friend’s house until they got back. Except for some reason in summer of 2004 my parents came up to me on a Monday and...
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...on the Web! randomhouse.com/teens Educators and librarians, for a variety of teaching tools, visit us at randomhouse.com/teachers Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Levithan, David. Every you, every me / by David Levithan ; photographs by Jonathan Farmer. 5/340 p. cm. Summary: Evan is haunted by the loss of his best friend, but when mysterious photographs start appearing, he begins to fall apart as he starts to wonder if she has returned, seeking vengeance. ISBN 978-0-375-86098-0 (trade) — ISBN 978-0-375-96098-7 (lib. bdg.) — ISBN 978-0-375-89621-7 (ebook) [1. Mental illness—Fiction. 2. Emotional problems—Fiction. 3. Interpersonal relations—Fiction. 4. Friendship—Fiction. 5. High schools—Fiction. 6. Schools—Fiction.] I. Farmer, Jonathan, ill. II. Title. PZ7.L5798Ev 2011 [Fic]—dc22 2010048723 Random House Children’s Books supports the First Amendment and celebrates the right to read. v3.1 To Jake Hamilton (for living photographically) —DL To Mom and Dad —JF Contents Title Page Copyright Dedication 1 1A 1B 2 2A 2B 2C 3 3A 3B 3C 3D 3E 3F 4 4A 4B 4C 5 5A 5B 5C 5D 6 6A 6B 6C 6D 6E 6F 6G 6H 6I 7 7A 7B 8 8A 8B 8C 9 9A 9B 9C 9D 9E 9F 9G 9H 9I 9J 9K 9L 9M 9N 10 10A 11 11A 11B 11C 11D...
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...As a medical student I have many reasons to believe that I am not just another medical student often portrayed as a nerdy, focused, dedicated person. Here is my story of immense struggle, pain, humor and confusion. “Philosophy! Yes that’s what I want to do after finishing school!”- I announced with pride and an intellectual air, sensing almost a discovery of sorts, discovery of my true passion and interest based on my convictions, ideas and daily thought process. Studying for entrance seemed too much of a headache- with all the cramming involved and so much more! Moreover the idea of studying in a medical college didn’t fascinate me anymore. The reason why I opted for biology in the 11th grade was because I was planning on studying for the premedical tests but I was just 15 then, realizing that I didn’t want to become a doctor but a philosopher at 16 sounded plausible and reasonable to me. “What?” mom replied back, almost choosing to ignore what I had just said. “I want to do a course in philosophy,” I repeated myself. “Be serious! Anyway you can do whatever you want after you become a doctor,” mom said almost forcibly, so not interested in what I was putting across to her. “Umm, no but philosophy is what really interests me and I am pretty sure about that.” “You are ruining your life and ours too. What do you want to do? Mop the floors? You have taken up biology! Don’t talk like those art students! You are seeking escape from hard work. Nothing in this life comes easy....
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...Writing Experience in a Nutshell I have never kept a journal or a diary. Writing things down never made me feel better so my first real experience in any type of writing was in school. Before then I had not given writing much thought. I read a lot of books, magazines and papers; how hard could it be? It wasn’t long before I had a real eye opening experience trying to write my first real formal paper. Writing has never been easy for me so when I started writing formal papers in college it was one of the more difficult assignments for me. In the first part of this essay, I will review my first experience in writing a formal college paper, how the Professor encouraged me to actually finish the paper, then in the second part of my paper I will describe my experiences with research and MLA formatting style. I will never forget my first college English Composition class. When I walked into the class it looked like any other classroom. People were sitting in what I was sure was their comfort spots in the classroom, some in front, some in back. I, of course, chose a middle seat. I pulled out the books and papers I needed for the class and sat quietly. When the Professor started the class we all signed in and of course, we had to write an introduction of ourselves to him. That seemed easy enough. I wrote it out and handed it in and was passed back a syllabus. The final draft of our first paper wasn’t even due for four weeks. At that time I never imagined I would need that full four weeks...
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...Don Pedro. I have to admit, I’m rather nervous about it. I never told you this before but I feel the time has come: I love Beatrice. I ask for your discretion in this matter for it is a very sensitive thing. She is the only person I’ve ever loved and nobody else knows. I’ve conquered many men in battle, even just over these past few weeks, yet I cannot seem to handle Beatrice. Her sharp tongue has cut me far deeper than any sword ever could and still, she is always in my mind. The battle I have just struggled through didn’t end me, but Beatrice’s words certainly will; the double edged sword that will cut me down where no other blade could, for I can’t help but love her more for her wit. She is very special, as you know. Have I ever told you about the first time I met Beatrice? It must have been two years ago, I was in Messina to see an uncle of mine, I hadn’t thought I would be there long enough to fall in love. It’s strange, how quickly that can happen. I was in the market haggling for some bread. I suppose I didn’t really need to haggle, I had the money; I just loved working the men on the stalls down. As soon as I saw Beatrice in the market and heard that she too was haggling with the stall owners, I knew she was something different; something special. I wanted to impress her so I flounced over and introduced myself with such grandeur. My first mistake, obviously. From that moment on she seemed to have such a hatred for me yet it only made me like her more. I love her...
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...“Cecil Jacobs is a big wet hen!” I heard a familiar voice yell. I stood up from my chair and stumbled over to the window. “Hey!” I heard another familiar voice yell as I looked over the dark lot scanning for my two kids. The lot was completely pitch dark, but I became used to the dark long ago and I could barely make out an outline of what looked like a life-size walking ham. Why would Scout be dressed as a ham? I wondered to myself. I couldn’t see Jem although I knew it was his voice I had heard. I watched as Scout as Jem approached the big oak tree. Once the kids stumbled under the big old tree, I could make out Jem walking along side Scout talking quietly to her. The kids stopped all of the sudden, and I wondered if something was wrong....
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...Begin; Let them know what it's about Listen as I tell you I suffer with a curse, never to leave a space or a blank verse, must fill every line with a tale to tell, so I'll tell you all about this spell. It started some time ago now, I met someone and made a vow, never to sin, never betray, never to leave in any kind of way. When people ask what love is, how can they understand, all I know is I feel unreal everytime you hold my hand, I'll tell them it's around us no matter what we do, for me love exists but only when I'm with you. Each of us hope that we find our soulmate, we wonder through life gently guided by fate, but I urge that no one in this world is the same, the echo in my dreams resemble your name. They say it's fate that guides...
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...Ishiguro – Never Let Me Go Never Let Me Go A novel by Kazuo Ishiguro To Lorna and Naomi 1 Kazuo Ishiguro – Never Let Me Go England, late 1990s PART ONE I’m not the first to be allowed to pick and choose, and I doubt if I’ll be the last. And anyway, I’ve done my share of looking after donors brought up in every kind of place. By the time I finish, remember, I’ll have done twelve years of this, and it’s only for the last six they’ve let me choose. And why shouldn’t they? Carers aren’t machines. You try and do your best for every donor, but in the end, it wears you down. You don’t have unlimited patience and energy. So when you get a chance to choose, of course, you choose your own kind. That’s natural. There’s no way I could have gone on for as long as I have if I’d stopped feeling for my donors every step of the way. And anyway, if I’d never started choosing, how would I ever have got close again to Ruth and Tommy after all those years? But these days, of course, there are fewer and fewer donors left who I remember, and so in practice, I haven’t been choosing that much. As I say, the work gets a lot harder when you don’t have that deeper link with the donor, and though I’ll miss being a carer, it feels just about right to be finishing at last come the end of the year. Ruth, incidentally, was only the third or fourth donor I got to choose. She already had a carer assigned to her at the time, and I remember it taking a bit of nerve on my part. But in the end I managed...
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...Am I Talking to Me? By Izzy Gesell The Power of Internal Dialogue to Help or Hinder Our Success Good communication skills are high on everyone's list of relationship "must-haves." Successful communication can be described as the transmission of thought, feeling or action so that is satisfactorily understood. Usually, the skills referred to are of the interpersonal variety. I think it's just as important to understand your internal communication, referred to as your self-talk, Self-talk is defined as the ongoing dialogue we have with ourselves that determines our behavior and it turns out we talk to ourselves all the time. This self-talk both reflects and creates our emotional states so when the self-talk is negative we become more stressed, less confident and more concerned with what other people think. We often tend to believe our self-talk is real and objective, not always aware that it comes from a feeling or belief we have. The good news is that we can transform our life experiences by learning how to defuse the power of negative self-talk. This entry will look at what self talk is, how it works and describe 5 kinds of negative self-talk. Part 2 will describe 5 additional kinds of negative self talk and offer a way to turn negative self talk around into positive action. HOW SELF-TALK WORKS In the memorable subtitle scene of the movie "Annie Hall." Woody Allen ("Alvy" and Diane Keaton ("Annie") are on the balcony off Annie's apartment. With a cityscape in the background...
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