Descriptive Essay About A Beautiful Girl

I slowly walked into the dark and daunting room. She has beckoned for me once again. She always has and she always will, no matter how many years we spend apart. She was like a drug to me. I hated the addiction but would easily fall back into the habit as soon as she would offer herself to me.

“If you get this surgery you realize that it will change everything? When you see me you have to promise that your feelings for me won't change.” She was so worried but I didn’t see

I had to get her back to me! Losing her permanently would be the death of my body, my soul. When Blaze ran away, she took my heart with her, running a million miles an hour. She is my heart now. The only meaning of my existence is to make her happy; which, so far, I have failed at. Why can't just get over my pride and tell her I love her? No, I just had to go and hurt her emotionally and physically. God I'm such an ass.

Of the shorts screened this semester, there were specific films outlied themselves for their strong female narrations and themes. Whether we are observing the Somali traditions in ‘Godka Cirka’ or follow the hopes and dreams of a working-class teen in ‘About a Girl’, films with these kinds of subjects are different from the norms of traditionally portrayed narratives. Like in literature, the characteristics of subversion are defined by their ability not to portray one side of a particular subject or character. Collectively, filmmaking is dominated by The Male Gaze, which emphasizes the male perspective on female narrative. Although some stories are intended to be told through a male character, the concept of The Male Gaze is consists of more

You could see her emotions, she didn’t try to hide them, she hated me and it made me feel worthless. We exchanged rings and while I didn’t agree with this I noticed her beauty, for a second her adorable dimples showed and she didn’t seem like she was forcing her smile, she looked intelligent and naturally gorgeous because for that second her tear stained face glowed in the sunlight, she was beautiful and although she felt frightened she looked strong. We returned to the house and I could sense her pain and sadness, I made an effort to comfort her. I wanted to attend to her needs but she refused to vocalise them, so although I wanted nothing more than to cuddle with her in our bed, I calmly explained that she would sleep in our shared bedroom and I would sleep alone on the veranda.

Steam starts to fill the room as the hot water flows from the shower head. Tugging my shirt over my head, I notice her standing timidly in the centre of the bathroom, biting down on her lip with one arm crossing her stomach. She looks nervous.

Who is your best friend? Some may answer this question with your mom, one of your siblings, or even just a person that is the same age as you. When I am asked this exact same question I used to answer with “my grandma.” My grandma was just a phenomenal woman, and she would do anything for me and the rest of the family to make sure that we are all jubilant. I lived with my grandma, my whole life. We did everything together. From shopping, going in family reunions that we didn’t even want to go to, and attempting to cook new things, but ending up burning it. My grandma and I were always together. She was my rock.

Katie thought to herself as Mrs. Griffen continued taking attendance, “Jeez, Mrs. Griffen’s heart must be cold as ice. What did I do to her? I mean ya I wasn’t paying attention, but it’s not like it was my fault. I just happened to start daydreaming without me even realizing it. I can already tell this semester with her is gonna be fun.” She just sighed and rolled her eyes.

“Once upon a time, there was a girl of wondrous beauty, with eyes of gold, hair soft as silk, lips red as roses, a bright smile of sunshine and a voice that flowed as smooth as a river. Even with all of her beauty, she remained separated by the rest of the world. She was lonely and lovely, and none dared to talk to her for fear of losing themselves in her golden eyes. Equally as enchanting was her voice, leaving her words to pour out in a wonderful melody like a song that threatened to entrance those that listened. Because of this, she was left to talk to herself, as others feared too much of becoming enthralled by her words to listen.

The first thing I have ever felt was a gust of warm air hitting my fur and wet tongue tracing my face which knocked me over I couldn’t see who was there but there were other soft warm bodies around me I was curled up by the large warm body curled protectively around me and the others which I knew from the start she was my mother I didn’t know her by name but I knew her by scent. An unmistaken smell of forest flowers blended with earth “How are you doing Willow” a voice called out echoing around the space the voice itself was deep but it was gentle there was a proud aura about him “I'm doing fine Shadowfang just a bit worn out” my mother responded her voice matching her exhausted breathing

Aida is tall and thin, smaller busted and hipped than most women, but still has beautiful curves for her body. You could describe her as having legs that reach her neck. My wife is beautiful, long, thick auburn hair and smoky, hazel eyes. A dazzling smile and youthful personality combine to belie her true age—most people mistake her for twenty-five instead of thirty-five. Jenny is younger by several years, and fuller figured. Her C-cups swayed seductively while her hands hovered anxiously waiting to strip the panties from her rounded hips. Jenny has alabaster skin, medium length, curly black hair. Long lashes that could change her appearance from innocent to wicked accentuated the perfect heart-shaped face. Aida had often compared her to a Greek goddess.

“What the fuck you attackin’ us for?” Zion shouts at a girl lying on the ground, grasping onto her bullet wound on her shoulder. The, no longer, mysterious figure wasn’t mysterious to Zion. Zion knew her from hanging out with her everyday. She would follow, think, and talk about her almost all the time at school and at home. Of course, because she was a girl she loved.

My cousin, Richard, was such an inspiration to my two brothers and me. I looked up to him for everything. He was an amazing athlete who would never give up on or off the baseball field. I never knew how fast something could be taken away until January 12. I thought the world was just simply punishing me, but then I realized that I couldn’t control what happened even if I wanted to.

All I’ve ever wanted is for my aunt to be here with me. When I was in the 5th grade growing up in Spanaway, WA I wish I could see my aunt more because she was nice, funny, super fun to play with she has been with me since day 1. I really loved to hang out with her, she would watch me play my WII and she would come over to family dinners the reason I couldn’t see her often because she lives in Alaska. I hope I can see her someday and just run up to her and jump on her and give her a big hug. Also I like to watch

I see her. My beautiful wife. Her stunning smile plastered on her face, her eyes turning soft as they meet my gaze. I felt a smile appear on my face as warmth spread all over my body. “Hullo darling” she speaks in her angelic voice, “Hullo darling” I reply as she takes my coat. She acted as if she was all a man could ask for. Except for the fact that she was using me. Her sister had told me days prior, she was only using me for my money. She felt no love for me, the only love she had was for the money and attention I gave her. I wouldn’t call myself rich, I would describe myself more as generous. I dedicated half of my paycheck to her. I got her new shoes every month, any clothing items she wanted and perfumes that were definitely too much. I used to enjoy doing it. When I brought her gifts, she would smile and it would remind me of what I live for. Now that I know the truth, I feel broken. The love of my life is using me and I can’t do anything about it. She places a glass of whisky on the wooden table in front of my face. She didn’t love me. It was all I could think about. I was being used for what I had to offer, not for what I was. Anger seeped into my veins. And after all this, she still has the audacity to speak to me.