I am Keith Anthony James lll. A lover of Jesus Christ, a self-proclaimed activist, philosopher, poet, disciple, and clergyman. Life is short, and the irreducible common denominator of all men is death. At death’s door stands Jesus. How I live my life now depends on how that conversation goes. I want to hear, “Well done good and faithful servant! I will put you in charge of many things, come and share your Master’s happiness.” (Matthew 25:23) Eternity is perennial… wouldn’t you agree? Jesus Christ changed the world at 33— I have some work to do.
I avow self-proclaimed because the papers that I will procure are latent, but one-day respect will be put on my name. As a 19-year-old African-American in America I would say I am on a first class
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As I am faced with all the questions of my pious affiliation, I just laugh and say, “Eternity is a long time”. The Big Easy— New Orleans, Louisiana is where I am indigenous to. I was blessed in my upbringing and what the Lord has provided for me. I was torn in the middle, a bridge separated me from hoods and suburbs. On one side air was toxic and stunned my growth, and the other side was the antithesis of that. The bridge separated me from drinking water from the sink, and ice water from a fridge. So I was double dipping and my life wasn’t measured in lifespans, but in moments. My reclusive life personified one of Shakespeare lines, for the sweetest things turn sourest by their deeds; lilies that fester smell far worse than weeds.
I was nomadic with school. The teachers never entertained me as much doing secular things did. I found relish in secular things, the bad things were good and the good were bad. As a child, I never hoped for anything— I was a pessimistic existentialist— I lost sight of my future. My flesh stood tall like Goliath and my soul waited for the right moment to prevail like David. I was a walking zombie and I was bound by my ignorance. Everything seemed perpetual and I being to conjure my own existence. As I look back at it now, I lived in death’s shadow and my psychiatrist was the devil. The more I grew the more I sought to retain everything I learned. If one forgets anything it means you have died, and
grew up in Chicago, Illinois, a beautiful city surrounded by violence and controversy by the media. I found things more simple when I was kid growing up here, there wasn't much to worry about but as I got older things became more complex here. The sounds of the " L "' or as you know it as, The Train, and the roaring sounds of cars passing by my house made me feel alive while growing up and as a matter of fact still does. You could wake up in the morning and see the vibrant blue skies being pierced by the skyscrapers and see other kids playing ball or riding their bikes. When it was summer time I would play ins sprinklers or go downtown and play in the fountains with my family. Of course, like most big cities I had to watch my back while growing up because you never knew what somebody was up to. It's weird really growing up here because you never know what's going to happen next , wether it's a good thing or a bad thing. All I can really say about growing up in Chicago is that if I had the chance to redo it, I'd do if a million times.
You feel an intense, out-of-the-skin awareness of your living self—your truest self, the human being you want to be and then become by the force of wanting it. In the midst of evil you want to be a good man. You want decency. You want justice and courtesy and human concord, things you never knew you wanted. There is a kind of largeness to it, a kind of godliness. Though it’s odd, you’re never more alive than when you’re almost dead. You recognize what’s valuable. Freshly, as if for the first time, you love what’s best in yourself and in the world, all that might be lost. At the hour of dusk you sit at your foxhole and look out on a wide river turning pinkish red, and at the mountains beyond, and although in the morning you must cross the river and go into the mountains and do terrible things and maybe die, even so, you find yourself studying the fine colors on the river, you feel wonder and awe at the setting of the sun, and you are filled with a hard, aching love for how the world could be and always should be, but now is
Depression placed a dark brooding shadow over my mind. I was weighed down, oppressed by the burden of having to carry on with life. In my mind, there was a crushing sense of hopelessness that I have never felt before. The only therapy I found was taking that beautiful, freshly sharpened razor to my left arm. A sigh of relief departed me as I watched the bright red blood drip from my vein. The only burden I had was going to school and hiding my war scars. Each day, the darkness spread through me like cancer. My body withering away, I needed an escape route from this crucial disease. This all continued until the day I saw a light and the darkness began to fade
“He who learns but does not think, is lost! He who thinks but does not learn is in great danger.” - Confucius
quote from the chapter “Spin” in the book The Things They Carried by Tim O’Brien, brings
The hall was surrounded with pictures of Morrie. The room spun, giving me a nauseous feeling. I turned around and flung open the door; I couldn’t bear to be in that room for another second. I went to my dorm and shut the door. I sat in dark emptiness, thinking of everyone who left me in my life: Hoppie, Doc, Nanny, Geel, my mother, and now, Morrie. It was too much to handle. I didn’t move from my spot on the bed for forty-eight hours. I drove myself deeper and deeper into the sadness I felt for the death of my best friend. As I laid there pitying myself I heard a knock on my door. I didn’t get up. The noise grew louder: KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK. Still I didn’t move from my throne of self pity. The door gently opened. A man stepped into my room. The first thing I noticed was his size. He cast a shadow that nearly
“I hear and I forget. I see and I remember. I do and I understand” (Confucius) this quote
My father finally spoke up and said abruptly, we are moving to California. I said what!. That answer moving to California, was almost equal to my uncle telling me "Your Sister Jackie is dead." I knew that my girlfriend, my anchor on earth was disappearing from my life. And now she was gone, 35 days after I lost my sister. My earth angle, I dreamed of being my wife was gone. I felt like I was having a nightmare and couldn't wake up, how could all this be happening to me. Despair sit like a stone in my stomach, like concrete boots dragging me toward what felt like my inevitable end. "I'm not going to make it. "I was in a state of melancholy depression.Laced with a fatal sense of my own wretchedness. I was fourteen years old and felt like I was
Mrs. Galb’s mindfulness class was usually boring. However, today was rather interesting because we were discussing everyone’s greatest fears. Most kids were afraid of clowns, spiders, and heights but I was afraid hurting the people I love. The thought of killing my mom, my dad, or my best friend Caroline made me sick to my stomach, even though I knew I was a good person. Mrs. Galb asked the class to imagine what we would do if our largest fear became reality. I was so overwhelmed by the idea of it, that I passed out. I woke up and saw the school nurses circled around me. They asked me what my name was, when I was born, and how many fingers they were holding up. I answered the questions with ease but I still didn’t feel like my normal self. My fingers kept twitching, my body felt heavy, and I heard eerie voices whispering and laughing. I figured it was a mere coincidence until they started talking to me. The voices told me to visit the
If there was a God, he was dead to me. My mind was always cloudy, but sometimes those clouds rained. The rain made a flood, a flood of depression and I didn't have a boat, and if I did have a boat, it was sinking. I remember each attempt like it had just happened. I remember looking at the sloppy handwriting on the letters to each family member and the razor blade tainted red. I remember feeling my arms and legs go numb and my desperate gasp for air. I could hear the deafening sound of my still beating heart, waiting for the pulse, but it never happened and I never heard that last
Walking into the classroom, something just didn't seem right. The lights were out, blinds closed, and only one shadowy figure sat at the teacher’s desk. Just by the shape of the figure I could tell it wasn’t my teacher. A chill swept through the room making the hairs on my neck stand up. I began to sweat and my hands shook. I stood, staring at the shadow at the front of the room. I finally built up enough courage to mutter out “Who are you?” The figure then spoke with a deep, threatening voice “I think you know who I am!” This was true, I had met the figure a few years ago. I tried to escape the past, but it caught up to me. “How did the school let you in?” I asked. “Do you really think that I would come in here with permission?
A good example of this quote would be, if a teenager wanted to learn to be a musician, and she knew how to sing; and she was okay on the piano, but not really good. She thought she could become a good musician like that, but throughout her life she neglected her piano and didn't sing because she thought she was good where she was at. This girl went to get a gig at a wedding, but she forgot everything she knew about the piano because she had never learned more of the piano. Her failure to learn more caused her to get fired from her gig and lose a lot of money. This shows you that learning more things really can help in the long run.
If you learn nothing else in life, please: do one thing and take care to remember that. In my expansive, albeit short, time of living, I have come to realize that few words amount to more than those four.
When I arrived in the cafeteria, I sat at my usual table, and plugged my ears with my earbuds. I turned the volume of my gloomy and depressing music all the way up, once again blocking out the jeers and laughter being thrown across the crowed room. I bothered only to pick at my food, being too distracted by my thoughts and holding back my tears. Finding the sunlight and the happy faces of others a hindrance to my solemn mood, I reestablished my arm barrier, completely blocking myself from my surroundings. My music only made me feel worse. I knew this but chose to ignore that fact. I deserved to feel miserable. I was nothing but a failure. I had no right to be happy. I would never amount to any– A light tap on my shoulder interrupted my thoughts. I looked up to find a worried face staring at me, and pulled out an ear bud. “What’s wrong?” Kyalah asked. “Nothing,” I mumbled. I proceeded to put my head down, but her hand blocked my path. “What’s wrong?” she questioned again. “Nothing,” I repeated, desperate to go back to my self-loathing. “I’m just tired.” Kyalah moved her hand, and squinted her eyes, intensifying her stare. “I’ve seen you when you’re tired and this isn’t it, so stop lying and tell me what’s wrong,” she stated. Understanding there was no escape from this conversation, I
It was a cold winter, my polished Prada shoes strode through the puddles created by the heavy raindrops, and my warm Gucci fur coat tried to keep the chilly wind away. There was the world famous ‘make a change’ military school standing in front of me, staring as it coldly welcomed me. A lady with a face full of freckles as red as her face stood in front, dressed in a dark jacket like a wild, black cat waiting for a mouse to arrive. Looking around, I took my very last breath of freedom and followed closely behind her. Just as we stepped inside, a staunch man dressed in green, with posture like a statue greeted us. ‘My nightmare has just begun’ I thought as I sighed heavily. I trailed after the lady, noticing teenagers who resembled real life robots hovering around. She lead me to my room, then abandoned me there with a stern gaze. I walked into the bathroom and looked in the mirror, which reflected a cheeky childish boy (who lacks manners) staring back at me. The running water dripped down me and ran down the drain as I showered, as if it was washing away my past, showing me that I was