My English proficiency improved as I entered second grade, and by third grade I tested out of “English as a second language” classes at my school and I placed into honors English. From third grade all the way until eighth grade I continued to place into honors English but part of me was still the insecure six-year old from first grade. My test scores indicated that I was advanced and capable of being in an honors class but I didn’t have confidence in my own intelligence. The reason for my success to that point was due to me wanted to prove to everyone that I was brilliant just like everyone else and that it didn’t matter that at one time I didn’t know English. Somehow, I convinced everyone about my scholarly ability, everyone except
“Thank you very much” Terry’s mother said gratefully as they walked into the dull, bland room. The tiny TV was on, blaring the Pick Four lottery numbers. There was also a painting of what appeared to be a boy pushing a baby carriage. But was Terry saw first his father, hooked up to lots of blinking
“Hi! My name is Astrid. I like your teacher,” I introduced myself with. Of course this brought some laughter. I meant to say that I liked her t-shirt, not her teacher. This words were painfully similar at the time.
“Okay.” I said, even though he’d completely misinterpreted my reason for going through my grandma’s things. But I wasn’t about to tell him what I was really looking for.
So I was concerned when I started playing LoL that I’d really struggle to focus on a main, however I actually find it super easy and I think it’s because I absolutely throw myself into it 100%. I’ve gone for Renekton as my first main, and I’m watching as many VODs as I can, reading guides, practicing combos in training tool to try and be as good as possible. Idk how much you do any of that, or if you just queue up and play. Really delving into a champ and trying to be as good as I can on them helps me stay to
The pained expression on his face gave me a start. Not the expression itself, I’d seen him make that face plenty of times—usually for something I did. But this time he was actually worried about me.
“Hi.” I mumbled. Paying more attention to the library down the street. It looked really old and like something I wasn’t interested in. The house was beautiful though. The outside had gray stones and a cream colored siding. There was a bird bath looking thing next to the path leading to the front door. In it was the most gorgeous looking flowers I'd ever seen. I walked up the steps and noticed that engraved on one said “RIP LW: 1967-1983”
Growing up, people always called me the “smart one.” I read books all the time, earned high grades, participated (and did well) in multiple academic University Interscholastic League events, and even made a twenty-five on the ACT at twelve years old. The first time that I did not know what I was doing academically, I felt like a horrendous failure.
He leaned forward, folding his hands together on the table. “Are you sure there’s nothing more you can tell me about them?” he asked, his direct gaze holding mine.
His eyes are so dark, so cold, so empty. He’s not in there anymore. The man I got engaged to is nowhere to be found in the body in front of me. I could always fight back. I should fight back. I know I could land a solid hit on him and be able to run. Right now, all I need to do is hit him right…