The Girl Against The Brick Essay

As my fifteen-year-old roommate falls to pieces, panic rises in my chest like a leaping flame. She lets out muffled screams and chilling sobs as she buries her face against the pillow. I kneel beside her and whisper reassurances. “You’ll be okay.” “No one will hurt you.” I pray she hears me but I know she doesn’t. She is trapped somewhere else - somewhere she revisits every day, like a bad song stuck in her head for life.

Girl, Interrupted (adapted from the original book Girl, Interrupted by Susanna Kaysen) takes place in the 60’s. The main character, Susanna, is eighteen years old at the start of the movie. The film gives viewers a deeper look into the day to day life of patients in a mental hospital. Susanna which at the start seems to be somewhat relieved to be “taking a break” at Claymoore Hospital eventually realizes how horrible it is to be in there, and decides to try to get better after an awful series of events. Susanna’s parents send her to Claymoore because she allegedly attempted suicide by swallowing a full bottle of aspiring and vodka, but she denies it, and argues that she was just trying to stop her “headache”.

The night air was heavy with silence. Clouds drifted across a calm sky, and a full moon shone in the distance. In a small hut on the outskirts of the valley, an old man lay in bed, awake in the peaceful slumber of the village. His breaths came in rattling gasps, his forehead burned, and his joints felt stiff with pain. He shifted on the blankets, his withered hands clenched in fists as he tried to suppress the wave of bitter memories coming to him. His life had been nothing more than work, loss, tragedy. He remembered all of his hope, his ambition, in his youth, and he smiled bitterly. No one would remember him as the man that he had once hoped he would become. Now, as his breathing became heavier and he felt himself fading on the brink of

This morning I feel alone more than usual, by lunch time all I want is booze. I look over I see Joe bragging about his lunch to John and Tom. I just didn’t understand how they could be so happy, and why I could be so sad. Nothing they said cheered me or got my attention such as how the man Charles Lindbergh the man who flew cross country in record breaking time, somebody had kidnapped his son. After work, Robert, and a few others came to talk to me to see if I was alright. I gave them the fake “yes,” but I wasn’t I just wanted to drink booze and not wake up. It was a sucky moment to be in, and I was stuck in it.

We knocked on the door of the off-campus apartment, as it opened we were confronted with the heavy stench of alcohol. A young girl was passed out on the living room floor, a pile of empty beer cans filled the kitchen sink, and the deafening music rattled the window panes. A group of girls managed to stumble past us. They waved goodbye to the host, who was handing drinks to me and my sister. It was not my first time drinking. In fact, everyone there was quite experienced – after all, it’s college. Half of the guests were completely drunk, and I had no problem with it. That is, until later that night when my sister locked herself in a room with a guy she had met only a week before. This prompted me to seriously consider the effects of

It was a cloudy day, a mild 78 degrees and Lezley McSpadden was taking a drag of her cigarette outside of the local grocery store where she was employed. She was midway through her shift when a friend of hers called and said that someone had been shot by Canfield Green Apartments. Maybe it’s only a mother’s instinct to recoil in fear, but in that moment Lezley could think only of her son Michael. Michael had recently graduated three months before and she wasn’t sure of his

Thesis: Many often ignore the genocide perpetrated by the Ottoman Empire towards Armenians, with the Armenian genocide being referred to as “one of the greatest Holocaust’s you’ve never heard of.” However, it did happen and many who stories were not, or could not, be told often expected their stories to die with them in the harsh heat of the death marches with their deaths and survival did impact others and where necessary knowledge for their future generations. The Sandcastle Girls by Chris Bohjalian is a historical fiction set which examines the love story between genocide survivor Armen and American witness Elizabeth which is chronicled by their granddaughter

In the novel The Diary of a Young Girl written by Anne Frank, Anne was a jewish girl living in the age of World War Two. She faced all kinds of adversity as she transitioned into a new life of hiding and survival. It is truly remarkable that a young woman was able to handle this adversity at such a young age.

One night, thoroughly past her bedtime, Georgiana crept stealthily downstairs to sneak a bite of pie, even though her mother would never approve. She immediately realized a heavy drape of desolation. The only noise was her heart beating to the rapid rhythm of the twitching fan. Georgiana thought that no one would be awake at one in the morning. She slipped through the doorway into the kitchen. For an instant, her heart stopped. A dreadful sight stood in her way. An innocent and isolated individual lay with his hand grasping for life, but it was already over. Taking a step back, she

Girls perch on the tables like exotic birds gossiping and giggling, a football fly’s above their heads between two jocks in varsity jackets parading their toned muscles. Groups of high schoolers sit around the room laughing. Weekend has arrived and the hallways of the school were filled with tons of kids ready to go home. Every ear filled with the sound of multiple conversations going off at once, lockers opening and closing, music blasting without. I had managed to push past the constant stream of children and to the school field. The grass was damp and covered in a thin layer of frost. As I walked my footprints were embedded, leaving a piece of me in the cold ground. I saw my friends faraway chattering and fooling around. I was stuck in the wrong crowd; they are nothing like me but somehow I am still friends with them. I slowly made my way up to my “so called friends”.

When I matriculated to Oregon State University, I realized how alone I really was, and that my popularity had meant nothing because I had no true connections with people in high school. I did not know how to work for anything because everything seemed to be handed to me. Finally my sophomore year of college, I met Harper, who immediately fit perfectly into my life. I’d never been that close to someone before, we did everything together. As I sat on the bus thinking about her my stomach began to contract violently and I masticated on one of my apple slices to try to calm it. Senior year Harper and I had decided to go to a big party for Halloween in Portland. Half way through the night Harper came up to me crying and insisted for me to drive her home, refusing to tell me why. I agreed because the party wasn’t that great anyway, but we got in a huge fight over why she wasn’t being honest with me or telling me what had happened. I had turned my head to look at her just for a moment, her red hair cascading around her shoulders, her eyes filled with

The ticking of the clock sounds disturbingly clear tonight, and my blanket does not warm me, washed cold by the moonlight shed through the curtains. Lying in my own bed, instead of the bleached sheets of the hospital, does little to drive away the dreadful thoughts haunting me. So I turn on my nightlight and pull Mary Shelley's 'Frankenstein' from the bookshelf. I need to feel close to someone right now, and as incredible as it sounds, Frankenstein's painful narrative strikes a responsive chord in my heart. It started when I moved from a stuffy little village to gargantuan Shanghai. My classmates mocked my old-fashioned clothes, and every time I apologized in embarrassment for my ignorance, they even laughed at the archaic word that I used. Just when I finally adjusted to city life and a new school, I was hospitalized for a potentially cancerous tumor. I escaped the strong

Female empowerment is what a patriarchal tries its best to dissolve, In the novel Brick Lane the protagonist Nanzeen is part of the extensive amount of women who face this adversity but her journey overcoming this is what makes this novel. There are many factors that give this empowerment but the outstanding ones are , the romantic relationship with Karim , Hasina letters and her friendship with Razia.

It was a gloomy day. The sky was filled with dark ominous clouds, which only made things seem even duller than they already were. Emily was walking home from school. Emily had no friends, no one to talked to her. The sad silence of the atmosphere symbolized the pain in her heart. She was in a place where nothing mattered to her. The only thing she wanted was her loved ones, which had left her in this cruel world, to return to her. Her mom, dad, and younger brother had all died in a car accident. She was the only one left. Whenever she thought about that dreadful event, she felt something piercing her heart.

Touched by fading moonlight, the girl looked pale as a ghost, distressed and sorrowful. Great drops fell from her eyes; the heavy rain clouds in her mind let loose their turbulent nature. She felt the muscle of her chin trembled like a small child, again, she looked toward the window as if the darkness outside could soothe her. However, she tried to keep her sobbing down by biting her lips, afraid the woman would “visit” again. Meanwhile, in the hallway, there was only deadly silence, creating an overwhelming sense of emptiness.