Martin Luther King, Dead, And I Am Alive Essay

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Martin Luther King is dead, and I am alive. How is it possible that this man, who spent years of his life making our world a more virtuous place to live, is taken, and I am left? A recent visit to the Martin Luther King, Jr. National Historic Site revived my passion for life against discrimination. As I visited the Martin Luther King, Jr. Museum and Visitor Center, Ebenezer Baptist Church, Mr. King’s grave site, and his childhood home, I felt compelled to observe my life to his and compare the passion, drive, and confidence he demonstrated. My journey began at the museum, and it immediately hit me that he left for college being fifteen-years-old. I always consider myself an earnest person, concerned with my school and community, involved in volunteering, and often spitting mad at injustice; however, I left home three years older than Martin Luther and have struggled with all the distractions, freedoms, and values that oppose those I previously learned to live by. Where unfamiliar people intimidate me, King felt we were all “interrelated.” Where I struggle to get through the assignments required by my professors, he burned to complete the assignment given him by God, saying it would be better to be “buried, than to be a slave.” On the other hand, aren’t we all slaves if we are not fulfilling our purpose in life? Surprising details acquired include King: getting a degree in sociology, being arrested for traveling 25 mph in a 30 mph zone, becoming founder and president of the
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