My Life - Original Writing

Seven years earlier, I migrated to Hawaii when I was twenty-three. I had flown away from my mother and my life in the Philippines. Like young adults and being rebellious, I wanted to live on my own away from my mother 's roof. I left the city life I grew up with in the Philippines in hope of a better life in another country.

"Catherine Nicole! Wake up right this minute!" I hear my mother shout from downstairs. I slide out of my bed and fix my hair to the best of my ability then walk over to my vanity and look in the mirror. I see a dark, cloaked figure huddled in the corner of my room and quickly turn around to see that the mysterious figure is gone.

My palms were as sweaty and heart was in my throat. My mom and I were currently at Hartsfield Jackson Airport, waiting for his arrival. I knew my mom was feeling as nervous as me because she almost ran someone over this morning. She was boring holes into the sliding glass doors, as if she glared hard enough, it would open. I held my breath as I saw the doors slide open, only to sigh when I saw a woman with Wal-Mart on her luggage cart. After a few dozen people, a 5’6 male figure with a pair of jeans, blue t-shirt, and socks and sandals made his way over to us after my mom basically yelled out, ”Bao!”, his name, and waved like her life depended on it. He’s here, my older brother.

When my son was ten years old, he asked me if I had ever been bullied before, or if I’d ever bullied anyone. I told him no! Not me! He said, “Mom, Nana told me that you were bullied, and you bullied people before, too.” I wondered if I should tell him the truth in that moment, that yes, when I was your age and younger, I was bullied, and yes, I bullied others, too. The thought that I could jeopardize my relationship with my son scared me. I could see it dwindling. The actions from my past might make my son look at me differently.

Picture yourself in my position; imagine looking through my eyes. During this story that I am about to tell, I want you to pretend you are me. Feel my emotions, feel my pain, and feel the moment. Relive my story…

I only saw Sunhat Girl once, and yet, once was enough to change my destiny.

After talking to the three sisters about her future and making a wish she wanted to know if it would actually come true she thought on it for a bit and walked home. When she walked home she thought about how tired she was of this place and she could not wait longer. When she got home Nenny was off playing in her room parents doing house work so she walked in her room grabbed her backpack and started packing. Okay so I need clothes, money, journal, and food to start me off she goes and gets all of things ready and walks out while her family is distracted. She walks past the four tall trees and says nothing only her thoughts, past the trees and into the city where there are new exciting things she has never experienced before there are fast

A few years ago, I finally decided to have the have the guts and ask my mom the question I had been wanting to ask her. Growing up I had strict parents but not that strict as if I were a prisoner in my own home. Almost every parent appear to be strict others on the other hand are not strict. Entering high school would be the most scariest chapter in my life, I going to meet several new people in my life. Biting my nails as I’m walking in on my first day of highschool, I turn my head left and right as if I were an owl. Seeing every girl looking like they are barbie dolls or Miss Universe. All the girls with their fresh makeup done like a professional makeup artist did their makeup while I am looking like a dead rat. My mother never allowed me to wear makeup for the reason being that I’d get acne.

I stepped into my host on a Thursday, slipped into the cracks of her insecurities and nested in the place where her pride once was. I flipped and destroyed her home, smashed the windows that looked out onto her beautiful garden and barricaded the doors. I wasn 't being evicted, not this time.

It was as if life was sluggishly pulling out my blooming, tender, young heart, and crushing it.

I wake up and think I am in our old house in the in the farm lands. The sun is beaming through the window from rolling, green hills outside, and I can smell my mom’s cooking of watery beans and potatoes wafting through the house. Soon the day will begin, a long day, of weaving and mending cloth. When the machines came, we were no longer fast enough for the demands of cloth. We were forced to move to the city and work in a factory, where we tend machines all day long until the day is over, and with our very bones crying , we hurry to bed. Then, dinging the bells ring at 4:00 AM to wake up the working class of the city.I can hear the bells now and I must get up. I’m so sorry for not introducing myself properly, my name is Edward. I am almost fifteen and work at a factory in the city. They call me the man of the house because my father is very ill. Next to me, on the pile of straw we share, are my younger brother, Tommy, my other younger sister, Jeanette, and my mother, Elizabeth. My mother works in a factory that makes parts for cars with my sister, Jeanette. She is only 30, but already her hair is patched with grey. Rumor says that she is soon to be widowed just like many others in this haunted place , I nearly hurl at the thought. Last week, my father came down with the spotted fever. I can see him from here; he is sweating, his body aching from the fever. I pray that someone will take care of him today, we don’t have the time or money to take him to a hospital. Next

was thinking about the stuff I needed to bring from home when suddenly, a coughing sound caught my attention. Feeling contented, I threw a quick glance at my father. To my disappointment, he was still on his bed motionless with only his chest faintly moving up and down. The continuous wheezing noise that he was making clearly revealed his breathing difficulty. I felt dejected. It hurt me to see him in this much pain.

I should have stopped him, I knew he was too young, his body; too weak, his brain; not smart enough but I still let him go. His mother, Mrs. Robert’s had made the mistake to trust me with her only child, Cameron. I regret what happened to him, he was just an innocent five years old, full of energy and curiosity that I used against him. I wish I could take it all back but I can’t because that poor child is already dead. Only because I let the evil inside me run free and chained the conscience to the back of my brain. That one decision will haunt me for the rest of my life.

In late autumn, the wiltering sullen trees stood deathly still under the dark, gray sky, held their frail, tired limbs by their sides and reached out to receive nothing but cold harsh winds. Beneath the barely noticeable shrubs and brushes was the cold hard soil, in which red, brown , yellow, and orange leaves spread across the entire ground as far as I could see. On some trees, not a single leaf was found. They lay across on the earth too weak to get up. The car sped quickly through piles of leaves making them fly into the air.

Recently, I heard some rather grim gossip about my old babysitter which made me think of a particular summer morning, bookmarked in my long-term memory.