I feel like I’m dying.
My insides are being pushed, pulled, stretched, bent. Different colors flash before my eyes, swirling and clashing and mixing together. The bright reds and dark grays and sky blues and neon yellows mix, causing a rainbow of sorts. It reminds me of when I shut my eyes tight or rub them, seeing all of the colors of a color wheel. Huh, who would’ve thought I would be thinking of color wheels when I was dying.
All of a sudden, it stops, the colors fading into one color—white. I breathe in, breathe out. The pain doesn’t fade, doesn’t stop, but at least I have control over myself. I’m not dying!
A pain, twice the original amount overtakes me. Or, maybe I am dying. For a brief and vague second, I feel my legs collapse
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I move one arm, try to move my other and pain hits me. A hiss escapes from my mouth and I let my arm hang limp. I push myself up with my right arm, my dominant one, the action reminding me about the backpack on my shoulder.
Shit, the pain just dulled. Touching the strap on my right shoulder, I mentally prepare myself for the pain. Three, two, one. I yank the strap down and out from in between my arm a cry escapes.
Taking deep breaths, I make sure I can walk, that my legs aren’t broken. Okay, those are good, now, where am I? Pushing myself up, I hold the wall for support.
Dark walls surround me, pure black. White furniture contrasts with these walls, like yin and yang, the black negative, drawing in light, drawing in purity, the white positive, exposing light, exposing purity. Every piece of furniture is white, the vanity set, bathtub, toilet, towels, rug, everything.
Wow, even Hell has bathrooms, I guess people just take breaks from rotting to take a piss. I wonder if the waltz on out every day to get food and piss and sleep and then wake up and get paid for rotting in a pit. Well, I guess I’ll find out in about five minutes.
“Jackson?” a low, smoky male voice asks. “What happened?” Oh, fuck. “Jackson, if you don’t answer I’m coming in. Are you okay or not?”
“Mmhmm.” I try to tell my best to imitate Jackson’s high-pitched voice.
“No, you’re not, what’s wrong with you?” The doorknob jiggles and I panick. The man tries to open the door and I force it closed, locking
white and wonder “Where’s the blue?” unless a greater being put the idea of “blue” in
Is this what it feels like, no it can’t be I haven’t done everything I wanted. I can’t move my body isn’t letting me, the pain hits it’s overwhelming worse than any broken bone pain, I couldn’t deal with it I close my eyes hopping it would just go away. I feel arms grabbing me pulling me out of the wreckage I have caused. The pain is back blurring out my sight flashing lights blue and red is all I see. Looking to see who had grabbed me, I see a tall figure it’s too hard to make out. I was placed on my back on a soft cushion resting my heavy head I close my eyes
I fell. This felt like I didn’t have a wrist. But I got back up really carefully and went up to the lounge to my dad and sister. Ah, Ah, Dad I think I broke my wrist. No you didn’t. It was swelling up, It hurt so bad I couldn’t even believe this was happening.
In reading the novel As I Lay Dying, many questions arose in my mind. However, the one that plagued me was the question that I could not pin down. All of the characters in the book have a personality and play a certain role in the tale. However, the one character who fascinated me, yet I could not explain was Cash. Is Cash a bigger player in the novel than it appears on the surface? I believe he is. Cash is the cog in the family that keeps the others from spinning away. Cash becomes, throughout the course of the novel, the patriarchal figure in the novel. He is thrust in to this position through his words, actions, and Anse's total lack of leadership. Cash becomes that patriarch. Diligence. Definition: " Close
Fear widened Tom’s eyes and stumbling backward, he collided with the wall. “N-No! Jesus, Dennis! What the hell is wrong with you?”
“Michael, what in the heaven’s sakes are you still doing here?” called out the familiar voice.
As I Lay Dying is an archetypal novel where the journey the characters embark on is a model for others. Little Miss Sunshine, a movie rather than a novel, takes the basics of As I Lay Dying and alters them to form a more modern version with a slightly different storyline. Little Miss Sunshine successfully interprets the journey in As I Lay Dying because aspects of both the characters and their trek emulate that of the novel As I Lay Dying.
William Faulkner uses language in a unique way in his novel As I Lay Dying. Language is a form of expression to show thoughts and emotions. Faulkner uses it to convey the individual characters’ thoughts and feelings. He also uses it to draw a line between language and true expression. He shows the limitations of language and the difference between language and words.
William Faulkner’s use of interior monologue in as As I Lay Dying allows the reader to experience the story from more then one persons perspective. Through the thoughts of Darl Bundren the reader comes to understand what is going on within the family. On the other hand Anse Bundren allows the reader to get a different perspective on the family. The reader gets the perspective of an outsider through Cora Tull’s narration. The make up of these characters as well as others allows the reader to see all sides of the story.
The action of William Faulkner's As I Lay Dying is simple: Addie Bundren dies; and in answer to her wishes, the body is taken for burial to Jefferson, some forty miles away. But the weather intervenes, and floodwaters require that the cortege take detours. Some nine days pass before the coffin, which before long clearly announces its passing to neighboring places, is finally laid to rest. These days involve battling flood water and a fire set by one of the children, the threat of buzzards, the hazards of a broken leg, and other incidental losses and disasters.
On Death and Dying By Elisabeth Kubler-Ross For my book review, I read On Death and Dying, by Elisabeth Kubler-Ross. Dr. Kubler-Ross was the first person in her field to discuss the topic of death. Before 1969, death was considered a taboo. On Death and Dying is one of the most important psychological studies of the late twentieth century. The work grew out of her famous interdisciplinary seminar on death, life, and transition. In this paper, I give a comprehensive book review as well as integrate topics learned in class with Dr. Kubler-Ross' work. Like Piaget's look at developmental stages in children, there are also stages a person experiences on the journey toward death. These five stages are denial/isolation, anger, bargaining,
1.) Explain how the answers to the self-inventories in the text concerning facts, attitudes, beliefs and feelings about death reflect our societal understanding or lack of understanding of death. I think that the self- inventory question reflected on both our understanding and lack of understanding about death related topics. Some of the answers to the questions on the inventory I knew without look at the answers, but some of the answers actually surprised me. The question about the death certificate was one of the questions that actually surprised me. I assumed before I did the inventory that every death certificate had a specific cause of death that was given on the certificate. Another answer that
I find myself lying in bed, drifting ever so closely to sleep. My body slowly numbs into a more rested state. Abruptly, I am awakened by an incredible force that is pinning my entire body down at once. It is overwhelmingly strong. My limbs wildly try to fight back only to find themselves powerless to this unseen...something...what it is I am unsure. I am physically unable to move a muscle. I try to scream. The noise won't come. I try to scream louder. Still nothing. The more I try to push it off it pushes down harder and harder on me. I am unnerved by the fact that I see nothing causing this intense pressure. I feel breathless. I wonder if I've officially lost my mind. Helplessly, I begin to realize there is nothing I can do to stop this from happening. I give in, accepting defeat. Slowly now the force begins to recede. I find myself making weird babbling noises, grabbing deliriously at my pillows and blankets. I slowly regain control of my muscle movements. And there I am. Still lying in my bed. Yet now I lay terrified, confused, and unsure of what just came over me.
I could feel the blood pounding in my chest. Blackness crept into the fringes of my vision. My voice was hoarse from screaming; I didn’t remember screaming though.
There are some philosophies we can take to be better prepared to face death. First, by attending to the important relationships in our live so that we don?t have regrets about what we failed to say or do with those we