Imaginary Story Essay

I never thought the day would come where I’d have to admit to myself I had an addiction. The hardest part was to except the fact I was an addict of painkillers and admitting it to my family so that I could get the help and support needed to get clean. The road leading to my addiction started with the factors of my childhood, always trying to fit in and not being supported emotionally from my parents. Having a child at the age of sixteen was the second factor, which made me grow up faster than a normal child at my age would have had to. Living the life of an addict was a struggle everyday but, getting help was the hardest part of it all. I’ll live with this disease for the rest of my life because recovery is a

My ideas and thoughts about Africa had been changed after I listened to Adichie’s speech. The way she described the danger of a single story was very inspiring to me, and I could relate many of the experiences I had to her story. I was born in Pakistan and moved to the U.S. in 2007. When I came to the U.S. I lived in Virginia and went to Freedom Hill Elementary School. On the first day of school I sat next to an Indian kid named Sai and he didn’t want to sit next to me he told the teacher that are countries didn’t like each other so he wanted to sit somewhere else, but are teacher said she didn’t want to hear any of it. So during the year we had to work on many things as partners, and we got along great we had many things in common and at the end of the year we became pretty good friends. At the beginning he probably heard some things about my country and he just assumed that I was the person he heard from those stories, and after meeting me he had a different understanding of it. Soon after the year ended my dad found a better job in California so we moved here. I lived in Alameda and went to wood middle. The school I went to was very diverse and this time I wasn’t the only Muslim

It was a normal Friday in March except for the fact that I got my license. So my friends and I thought about what we were going to do now that I have my license. Well, we cruised around town thinking we were hot stuff and that we were better that most kids in school since I had my license before many of my friends. We decided that we'd go off-roading since I had the huge truck. It was a hunter green 1979 Ford F-250 Custom. It had huge 33-inch tires, a loud crackling exhaust, and a unique 2-inch thick oak plank flatbed. It really was a beast. So we roared around the backroads hitting bumps and flying into fields just causing a little mischief not doing too much harm. After a week of horsing around

As the storm rolls over the house, lightning cracks in the distance lighting up the package on the front doorstep. The box had white and blue stripes on it with a red ribbon holding the lid on. As I was bringing it in out of the rain, I noticed a note on the ribbon saying “Grandma: bEWarE” It’s written with some sort of dark red ink and some sort of sticking indented into a splotch at the bottom of the card. I didn’t think much of it and left it on the kitchen table to look at it tomorrow. I awaken to the sound of the cardboard lid falling on the floor and the note from the ribbon left inside the box saying, “bEWarE.” I looked around franticly for a few seconds thinking someone was playing a prank on me, but nothing, just a silent house. I put the box and the lid in the bin and started to get ready for work but I couldn’t get the note out of my head.

My eyes were the worst mixture of bloodshot, purple and torture, my body in the worst state possible having gone seventy two hours without sleep, a meal and a proper shower and my mind, a complete mess. I was physically and mentally exhausted, my body and face displaying it all, yet I don't think I had ever came to know who I was more than at the very moment I saw myself completely shut down.

Students, teachers and parents all had differing things to say during the experience. “Hey we didn’t have a party like this when we were in seventh grade, this is mutiny,” cried out an eighth grader. “Shh I want you guys to be as silent as mice while in this library,” Mrs. Miller scolded at her eighth graders. “The eighth grader teachers are scrooges” smirked Billy, an eighth student. Scrooge was a very grumpy old man who did not treat others well. “Wow the students are actually paying attention, at least over here,” said a seventh grader’s mother as she observed kids close to her read. “Hey did you know Alyson likes John, her best friend’s boyfriend,” a seventh grade girl (not being monitored by a parent) failed to whisper. “November

Gowing up to spend the past 18 years of my life on the Chicago Westside has been an interesting journey. I currently live in the Austin community, where there is a population of 98,514 in 2010 and 85.1% is Black, 8.58% is Hispanic, and 4.43% is White. Growing up in an area of complete violence and poverty felt like a game. Making sure you stay on your side of the block, making sure you’re home before dark, and even making sure you never walk alone. Never. A lot of people get scared when they hear about a life like this, but it's reality for me, and I honestly feel pretty comfortable with the people surrounding me. They look like me, talk like me, and even dress like me. We all watch out for each other. It's a family beyond blood that was built in my community. I live on a block where it is 95% Black. Besides my family, there is only one other Hispanic family. I never really left my community or the type of people I surround myself with either. I honestly didn't feel comfortable leaving and going into a “White” community. But my comfort level was really tested when I left for the summer to the

A couple of years ago, our class was separated into small teams of two and tasked to see who could create the best float out of tin foil and 5 straws that was durable enough to hold over 100 pennies in 10 minutes. My partner, who happened to be my best friend, told me to create the float because he was sort of confused on how to actually construct the float. I was a little confused myself at the time. Since this task required building I felt a little more confident. So, before I actually started to create the float I took a minute or two to actually visualize the float. After a couple minutes I just jumped right in and threw the float together exactly how I pictured it. Compared to others design ours looked fairly simple, we were a little worried. But, surprisingly, we ended up winning the challenge with our float holding well over 100 pennies.

Opening, option, lucky chance, possibility, regardless of the synonym used, opportunity is often overlooked. Who can lay blame? Life is busy. Adults have work, homes, children, volunteer activities to distract them. Students have school, practice, jobs. Daily obligations keep us from seeing opportunities or at least that is a convenient excuse. Don’t take chances, don’t call attention to yourself, keep your head down, the expected road is the safe road and consequently each day will securely turn into the next. That was my existence, one of the crowd, one of the many. Then I sorted socks.

Every year 5th graders at our school, Beecher Prep go to the Nature Reserve in Pennsylvania. It is a few days that the 5th graders are always looking forward too. In the past years, they have had a lot of fun. I had never been at a sleepover or anything sleepaway at someone else's house besides our house. I was scared but ready to take on this challenge. I was about to leave in the morning, I packed the previous day. I had an old Star Wars sleeping bag, but I thought I was too old to have it. I asked my mom to buy me a new sleeping bag. I had my favorite stuffed animal named, Baboo with packed with me. In the morning, I decided I didn't need it on the trip so I left it with mom with a note that said, Mom I won't need Baboo, but if you miss

What started to be a beautiful day turned into a dark, stormy night. As the dry lightning cracked across the sky. I had storm clouds gathering in my eyes. I couldn’t wait for the so called twister the weatherman called for. I wanted everything to be blown down. I wanted nothing left. I wanted every brick, board, and every door destroyed. I wanted every window shattered until there was nothing left. I started to hear the screaming sirens as I looked around there was no one to be found. So I locked myself in the basement as I listened to screaming wind. I heard my dad scream “Bri let the rest of us in I had to call your brothers down to take some shelter.” I smiled as I let them in and thought to myself, man I can’t wait to see the damage that will be done. I kept telling myself maybe every brick, board, and door would be destroyed and every window shattered.

The burden of motherhood can prove to be far too tough for some women in today’s society. One habitually is informed about a woman who either abandoned her child for adoption to a firehouse or even worse, which could be better, left unmentioned. Some mothers can fill the role of motherhood and beyond. The female who filled this niche in my lifetime was Zulma Enid Saldaña. Not only did she go above and beyond with her role as my mother, but also surpassed expectations as a father in my life as well.

One would think that purchasing your first home would be a very fascinating experience; after all it is one of the most major purchases of your entire life.  In America, home ownership ties in with the American Dream and the spirit of working hard to one day earn through hard work a home with a white picket fence. My husband and I felt that it was time for us to reward ourselves for all the hard work we have been putting in over the years by purchasing our first home, which was well overdue. I quickly learned the process of purchasing your first home can be very frustrating and stressful. However, if you survive the home buying process the reward is priceless once you move

     Mrs. Thomas looked as if she was speaking the word yes, but it was almost to quite to hear.

the foam in the river, and started out to get it. The other two, Chris