*What if you did things a little differently… Would I still be sitting on top of this bed, writing about something that could’ve happened or would I be someplace else… I’ve lived a life before this one, most people don’t remember their previous life, but for some unknown reason, I do. I don’t understand why or how, but all I know is that the exact same thing happened in my life before. Until something fabricated differently on this particular day. I knew I was put on an end of all my misery… My last recognition of my recent past; felt like my arms, hands, feet, and legs were about to drop off, the coldness in my limbs were colder than I’ve ever felt before, my skin tone began to change, my skin paler than the yonder of the waning moon. …show more content…
“No worries,” the man replies, “Can’t have you keeling over again, gesturing me a flirty wink.” “Name’s Jack”, shaking my hand in a firm grip. “Ellie,” I reply, still flabbergasted that this is truly happening… I haven’t spoken to a different man since my previous life. Unless you count the guy at the post office… So I promised myself one thing in this life. That I won’t meet the man that concluded me becoming a crumbling, emotional mess. But then again, I can’t make any new flipping decisions! Maybe all this was meant to happen… On my way back home, after the conversation ended with me saying that I had an errand to run, (even though I did not), I begun to come back into reality, like my brain had finally caught up… Shouldn’t I be heading the other way? What’s happening to me?!? Usually, It’s like my feet know where to go and if I tried to change my direction, they never shift. Why did he say falling over ‘again’? Replaying and replaying the scenario in my head, nothing makes sense… Only one idea jumps to my attention. That I was being given this opportunity to change my encounters and misfortunes, maybe I wasn’t meant to die that
I asked myself what turn of events, what decisions had I made that would have lead to this situation I found myself in? Was I paying off some karmic debt from a previous life? I didn’t remember doing anything so evil that would have caused me to land in this spot.
In 2025, I will be twenty-nine years old and hopefully married. I will be married to my significant other of ten years Earnest Palmer III, who is a dentist. I would have been recently graduating with a bachelor’s in Culinary Arts and trying to plan to open my own restaurant, BubbaD’s Eateries. Knowing my big headed husband of mine, I probably had a baby then and trying to have another baby. Hopefully, by then Earnest will get rid of the idea naming our son, King. We will be living in the suburbs near New York City but working in the city. Being a woman with great memory, I probably wrote a memoir about my crazy life and trying to sell it to a publisher. If none of the publishers wants to publish my memoir, I will probably sell it the Lifetime
As I stepped outside, the cold suddenly rushed to me, wrapping me inside of it. The leaves rustled by on the garden path. My first thought was to go back inside, but I decided to be that wonderful father, and make sure that everything is ok. So I kept walking forward, being careful not to trip on the dark, bumpy dirt path. Then I heard the noise again, a faint vooing, like voo voo voo getting louder and softer. I followed the sound, and then all of a sudden, it stopped. I listened really hard, but i couldn’t hear anything anymore. My conscious said to just go back, but my body took another step forward, for what reason, I have no idea. Then my body felt like it was being stretched apart and all i could hear was VOO VOO
I never thought I would be labeled an outsider, a misfit even. As I trudged my way through the halls of my small town high school, I would endure the gazing pairs of eyes, that belonged to my peers, followed by whispering and often times some laughter. I always used zone out during those repetitive speeches and commercials about the effects of gossiping and rumors; never did I imagine that one day I would be on the receiving end of of the everyday potshot. Growing up I was always the center of attention, the one everyone yearned to be friends with, never was I the antisocial child in the corner with nowhere to turn… not until high school. They say high school changes you. They say high school accounts for some of the greatest years of
I’d never thought enough had happened in the sixteen and half years I had been alive for much of anything to pass in front of my eyes during a near death experience. I was wrong. You know those nights when you lie awake in bed and replay interactions long forgotten by everyone but you? You wonder what people thought, what you could have done differently. This experience felt much the same. In your head is all of your missteps and slip-ups, the advice you should have taken but were too stubborn to listen to, the people you’ve let down. It all sprawls out in front of you like a sunset stretching across the horizon as you drive over a big hill.
Ignoring me, he continued, "She broke up up with me because I bought her a simple neclace for her birthday not the diamond bracelet she wanted."
I’ve always been an outsider, it’s been hard for me to build friendships and relationships. Not too long ago, there I sat in the corner of the room in the way back, trying to hide from the world, and be myself. I didn’t really want to get involved with anything or anyone. I was afraid to open up, talk to others, maybe because I was afraid to get rejected. Until, I met the best people I could ever meet, my best friends Marisa Mendoza, Jessica Contreras and Deseray Reyes, the ones who up to this day have sticked by my side, at my best, and worst moments. They have all been a big part of my life, I can enjoy every minute I spend with them. For me, they aren’t only my friends they are like my sisters.
Everything around me began to blur, including the line between reality and something strange, a place where nothing exists. I could feel myself detaching, but there was nothing I could do to stop it. I was unplugged and could not find the cord to reconnect myself, my thoughts were screaming over one another and it became impossible to single one out. Everything was fake in that moment, my memories, my feelings, my family, my friends, it was all a hoax that I was stuck in, that I had to be released from. Feeling deceived and unhinged, I remained inert and supine in bed. I covered my face, which was daubed with my tears, and listened to my thoughts all telling me the same thing. I sat up and began to wobble towards the stairs. I heard my sister call out, “I’m leaving Emma!”, and my anxiety intensified. Everything blurred into a combination of panic and tears as my sister tried to calm me down. It took hours to bring me back to
It was 5 A.M. and my thoughts were everywhere. I kept tossing and turning, desperately trying to fall asleep, but knowing I couldn't. I finally slipped out of bed, carefully so that I wouldn't wake up Olivia, and proceeded to walk down the stairs. I sat down on the living room couch and exhaled deeply as I stared into the sunroof.
I think i found my destination. Sheer magnitude of energy arose from my body. I felt unreal. Seriously. Have you ever stop and question your existence. Who am i and why am i here? Detachment and utter numbness of “reality”. This anomalous out-of-body experience rush must means this is the end me? “ Mike i have to go to the hospital i think i'm dying.” I said panicking at my inner experience. I was an onlooker of this universe - at least it seemed. “ Brenda please relax, youre not dying. and stop crying!” he said as he walked me to his car. “ come on, I am going to take you to my house.” . From this moment i knew this isn't what i wanted to
Growing up with a father in the military, you move around a lot more than you would like to. I was born just east of St. Louis in a city called Shiloh in Illinois. When I was two years old my dad got the assignment to move to Hawaii. We spent seven great years in Hawaii, we had one of the greatest churches I have ever been to name New Hope. New Hope was a lot like Olivet's atmosphere, the people were always friendly and there always something to keep someone busy. I used to dance at church, I did hip-hop and interpretive dance, but you could never tell that from the way I look now.
There was a bright light and my eyes hurt, I looked at my twin bell alarm clock and it read five a.m. I must have fallen asleep while studying, I guess. But what happened felt so real. I have been really phony lately, it was probably just a subconscious thing. Then I saw it on my desk. A copy of The Catcher in the Rye, I don’t own a copy of The Catcher in the Rye. I opened it open to the front cover and there was a crash of my dopping the book and accidentally knocking over a vase in the process. Inside was inscribed; “Remember what and who you saw, for this could be your eternity. Signed, J.D.
That’s what I’m trying to figure out. I thought that maybe they were friends and broke into a condemned house, someone got hurt, or this was part of some strange initiation, but they’re from different grades, and polar opposites. They don’t seem to know each other when I mention the other names, but their stories are very similar. Whatever this red door is... it’s terrifying them.
My family and I strode along the dirt roads of a miniscule island known as Roatan, just off of the Caribbean Sea, with the gravel and filth crunching beneath of our feet. We could feel the scorching hot sun stretching down on our shoulders and faces, mid afternoon on one of the most fascinating islands you’d ever encounter. You could hear the melody of young children, running barefoot all around you, the melody of laughter filling the air. The soft music floating from home to home where the clothes hung up on the line to dry in the warm air. Stray dogs, skeletons - afraid to break their frail bodies as they took each new step.
Orwell struggles to blend his “political” and “artistic” purpose into one complete “whole” in his short novel Animal Farm. The author uses allegory and satire to catch the reader's attention. I believe that Orwell is criticizing the Russian Revolution. In addition, i think he is making fun of it because the way he uses the animals the describe the humans like ways. In ¨why i write¨ Orwell goes more in depth about himself and the purpose of his writing. He gives details about his life and what lead him to be the famous writer he is today. Furthermore, The author wrote ¨politics and language¨ to discuss about his view of politics and the way English should be written.