Descriptive Essay About Alone

In the town of Maycomb, a man who stands up against racism forever changes people’s views on racism. Scout, Jem and Atticus Finch all stand together against racism and prejudice in the tiny town of Maycomb. In To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee, in the town of Maycomb, prejudice is a disease, but Jem, Scout, and Dill are immune to this illness because of the people who raise them. For example, when Cecil and Francis told Scout that Atticus is a disgrace to defend Tom Robinson, even though Francis is Scout’s cousin. When Scout and Jem hear the verdict of Tom’s case they both cry and are angry about the sentence while the rest of the town is ecstatic. And finally when Scout doesn’t want Walter Cunningham to come over for dinner because

It was dark and alone and I felt the need to cry. One by one everyone I have ever loved showed up. My mom, my sister, my late girlfriend, my grandma… I could go on. Their eyes were on me and only me. I was the only stimulus in the room. The yelled at me. I was irrational . I had put them in a situation where they didn’t even know me anymore. I was the monster under the bed and I was the reason why people were scared. They yelled so loud to the point where I didn’t even know if they were screams anymore.

I walked away feeling like I was a complete failure and that I didn’t deserve to go on. On the way home my mother tried to talk to me, but, I put on my headphones and cried silently. Once we were home my father asked how it went. The tears that were in my eyes and they became more evident as my shoulders and chest were shaking and trembling. The only sound in the room was the sound of me crying and wailing. I started crumbling and falling to the ground and my mother and father rushed to my side. They held me until the tears came to a stop and a little bit afterwards

As soon as my eyes woke up to the bitter cold of the night and stars covered by black blanket of clouds, I knew that this was it. I had tried to prepare myself that day, but I was at school when it happened. The moment the intercom came over the classroom, “Hailey Wooldridge needs to come the office, her mom is here to check her out,” my heart stopped. I was able to make it to the office without losing my composure, but as soon as my eyes met my mom standing there with tears in hers I lost it. Right there standing in the school office, the food gates of heaven opened up in my eyes and I could not stop the rivers from flowing. My best friend since kindergarten had died. All the planning of moving in together when we went to college was down the drain. The late nights of watching horribly filmed scary movies was done. My heart was broken, and the pieces are still not taped together properly. Two days later was her funeral. Her mother had asked me to say a couple of words about her during the service, but the thought of standing next to her lifeless body talking about her and not to her made everything seem surreal. By the power of prayer and numerous amounts of tears, I stood up from my seat and walked lifelessly to the podium that viewed hundreds of people waiting to see what I had to say. I do not know how I got through that speech without hysterically crying, but somehow, I talked like I was having a conversation with Serra once again. In front of me, I

I walked silently, my converse crunching on the wet sidewalk. I zipped up my jacket and took a sip of my coffee. I slowly walked towards my school when someone's shoulder slammed in to me. My coffee flew out of my hands, the lid came of as it hit the ground, spilling all over the sidewalk. I stumbled as I tried to regain my balance. I hate this small town I thought to myself. When I returned home I arrived to both of my parents sitting at the table. I looked at them with a confused look, “Ava why don't you take a seat,” Father said “we have something to tell you.” I took a seat not saying a word just giving them a confused look. “Ava honey your father got a promotion,” Mother stated “and we are going to be moving to California!” Fireworks were going off in my head thinking of all of the new things I would get to experience.

I need you home now.” This was my wakeup call and I knew that I had to hurry home. “I’m coming home now mom. I’ll be there in a bit. Everything is going to be alright.” Keeping my composure I went to the NHS president and told her that I had a family emergency and that I had to go. For some reason she was giving me a hard time about it but after seeing my eyes she asked if everything was alright. I just said I had to go and she finally let me go without asking anything further of me. I darted out of the cafeteria doors taking a right on the first floor hall way on the east side of the building and then a left I went through one of the schools entrances on 59th court. I live on the same street as the school just three miles away. At that moment I felt stranded. I did not have my “proper gear” to run it as fast as I could and at the time for some reason I did not bring my car to school. However, I knew I had to get home fast so I took off. As the cars passed me I lost myself in my head. I was not crying or even sad. I was unsure of how I should react. Then the thoughts of what if I never get to talk to him again ran through my head. That is when the tears started to pour down my cheeks as I continued to pant.

Everything around me began to blur, including the line between reality and something strange, a place where nothing exists. I could feel myself detaching, but there was nothing I could do to stop it. I was unplugged and could not find the cord to reconnect myself, my thoughts were screaming over one another and it became impossible to single one out. Everything was fake in that moment, my memories, my feelings, my family, my friends, it was all a hoax that I was stuck in, that I had to be released from. Feeling deceived and unhinged, I remained inert and supine in bed. I covered my face, which was daubed with my tears, and listened to my thoughts all telling me the same thing. I sat up and began to wobble towards the stairs. I heard my sister call out, “I’m leaving Emma!”, and my anxiety intensified. Everything blurred into a combination of panic and tears as my sister tried to calm me down. It took hours to bring me back to

When I matriculated to Oregon State University, I realized how alone I really was, and that my popularity had meant nothing because I had no true connections with people in high school. I did not know how to work for anything because everything seemed to be handed to me. Finally my sophomore year of college, I met Harper, who immediately fit perfectly into my life. I’d never been that close to someone before, we did everything together. As I sat on the bus thinking about her my stomach began to contract violently and I masticated on one of my apple slices to try to calm it. Senior year Harper and I had decided to go to a big party for Halloween in Portland. Half way through the night Harper came up to me crying and insisted for me to drive her home, refusing to tell me why. I agreed because the party wasn’t that great anyway, but we got in a huge fight over why she wasn’t being honest with me or telling me what had happened. I had turned my head to look at her just for a moment, her red hair cascading around her shoulders, her eyes filled with

The following months a winter, cold and gloomy, surrounded the house. My grandmother came to stay with us since my father had fallen into depression and needed help taking care of my sister and I. When my grandmother went grocery shopping my sister would struggle with homework without my grandmother’s help. One day when my grandmother left to go grocery shopping my sister approached me, which was unusual of her since its very rare for her to come to me. Her dark brown hair and big eyes reminded me of my self when I was younger. “I’m hungry” she complained, a question she’s never asked me. My father sleeping and my grandmother away, I was the only one left to take care of her and that terrified me. I had never cared for or known how to care for someone else. All I knew was how to evaluate whether or not someone was caring for another correctly.

My mother had left my dad’s house slippers by the coat rack behind the door. I was grateful to her as the floor felt like ice. Hanging up my coat, I slipped into my dad’s bathrobe, which was hanging on its peg. We had a fireplace in the living room and the chimney exited the west side of the roof. I smelled the smoke of the dying fire, and I knew my mom was in bed. The bedrooms were located on the second story. Her room was located at the end of the hallway, and my room was at the head of the stairs above the

The “early pioneer of science fiction” American writer during the 1800s, Edgar Allan Poe, is widely known for casualties, “premature burials, mysterious women who return from the dead” and decaying love (“Poe’s life”). Because of his writing style, Poe was dubbed “Father of the Detective Story” (“Biography.com Editors”). Poe was an unhappy and alone man, whose life was filled with mental illness and death. Poe has earned his reputation by writing his short stories filled with “tales of terror as well as on his haunting lyric poetry” (“Poe’s life”), such as “The Raven” and “Alone.” All the poems Poe has written seem to have at least one, if not more, familiar qualities: they all have a mournful, deserted mood. In his poem,

The stench of death hit my nostrils as I opened the door to go inside, which is why I always hated going to the hospital. We waited the fifteen minute queue, until I heard my name from a nurse. I followed the nurse into a small, beige room. I sat down on the examining table, as my doctor walked in. I told him my symptoms, and he did a quick check up. His cold fingers pressed against my lower back. “Breathe in and out.” He said. I did as told. “Slower.” he exclaimed. At that moment, while I was slowly breathing in and out, I could hear a small click every time I inhaled. The doctor looked up and said, “Ahhh, you seem to have pneumonia.” He explained to my mom and I what that meant because we were clueless. After he finished, he told us that if I waited any longer to go to the hospital, he wouldn’t be speaking to me, which opened my mom’s eyes finally. He told me that I couldn’t go to school for at least another two weeks, gave me a school note and my prescription. We left the hospital. My mom dropped me off, and went to pick up the medication. As I lay in bed, I remember thinking about everything that has happened to me in the past two days, and what the doctor told me. Those thoughts were interrupted by the opening of my bedroom door as my mom walked in. She handed me the medication. I swallowed the pills, and fell asleep. The next morning my mom walks in with a stack of papers. She said, “It’s alright if you’re not able to attend class,

Although I hated to see her go, I knew that I would never branch out and meet new people with my mother present. As we said goodbye, the tears swelled up in her eyes and it seemed like the harder she tried to prevent the tears from falling; the faster they streamed down her cheek. Eventually my mom got back into her car and began the long trip home. There I was, alone in the middle of the street outside of my dorm. I walked back into Cowden, up the flight of stairs and into my dorm room in a trance.

I woke up at eight in the morning, being that it was May and spring was in the air I knew that my day would be perfect. As I leaped out of my warm and comfortable bed to put on my Bullwinkle slippers, my stomach nerves began to tighten. I figured it was just a small bellyache and I would get over it soon. I walked slowly to the bathroom not really realizing that the house was not filled with sunshine as it usually is during these beautiful spring days. As I began to brush my teeth my eyes caught a glimpse of the window that I now noticed was so close to the mirror. I could have died when I noticed that the rain was coming down like a storm. It was at that moment that I ran to mother’s room to tell her that I couldn’t go driving today. My

"No man is an island." This famous quotation explains the nature of man as a social being. It is truly a fact that human beings cannot exist in isolation. They need to be interdependent with each other in order to survive. This interdependence is needed because a human being alone will not be able to fill his own social needs, and his material necessities came from other people as well. All acts of society such as sex, love, and dependence are essential for the survival of any species. Interaction and socialization is the only way to prevent people from isolation, from solitude.