The Importance Of Being Alone In My Life

The morning was foggy and I could see the front of my school through my window. It was a nice sight to see. I walked into the kitchen to make myself a bowl of cereal and there she was with her head down on the table. I could tell that she arrived a couple of hours ago because the tears hadn’t dried from her cheeks yet. I got myself ready gave her a kiss on her forehead and headed off to school. I had walked into class eager to see what my teacher Mrs. Padron had in store for today. Every single day there was something new to learn and there’s something about that infinite nature of learning that really appealed to me as a child. I cherished those 7 hours I spent in class the most I could and I dreaded the mere thought of having to go home where I would have to face the

I remember the first day I walked into my kindergarten class, I clenched my mother’s hand with all my might to prevent her from letting go. The kids around me, whom I supposed were my classmates, had long let go of their mother’s had and were playing together, and even as a five year old, at that point I felt like an outsider. I pleaded my mom to not leave but my attempts failed as I found myself alone yet surrounded by complete strangers. As I stood in the center of the room while pushing back my tears and eyeing my mother make her way out the door, I heard the teacher call my name. I timidly walked towards the spot on the yellow carpet she was signaling at for me to sit on. I heard Mrs. Ross’s soothing voice but no matter how much I concentrated

I heard the click of the lock and my mom pushed the door open. We were greeted with an excited Coco. Her tail would wag furiously from left to right, making a thumping noise against the furniture and shakes her entire body in the process. My shoulders relax, and I did not realize how good it feels to be home. My brother pushes past me. The stench coming from his dirty and ripped up football jersey made my nose wrinkle. He rushes ahead to take a shower before dinner. That’s when a familiar smell hits me. A growling noise came from deep inside my stomach, wanting to be fed after a long tiring Thursday at school.

I remember sitting at our dining room table, looking past the window. I wasn’t much older than eleven. It was a sunny Saturday afternoon, and I was bored out of my mind. I sighed, wishing there was something exciting to do. My mother told me that I should go outside and play, but I had already played at our playground what seemed like a million times already. The playground was only ten yards away from our small 800 square foot apartment, in the heart of Omaha, Nebraska. This was a convenience to some kids, but to me it was aggravating. I sat there in that wooden dining chair thinking how this summer had been one of the most uneventful summers I had ever had. I daydreamed about the summers of when I was living in Upstate New York. Ever since

In the novella, Of Mice and Men, author John Steinbeck creates a world of solitude and isolation through the characters of his story. The men and women in Of Mice and Men illustrate that though one may not physically preside alone, the characters will portray the mental and emotional seclusion and the overwhelming feeling of loneliness that still dwells within them. The inevitability of aloneness within the lives of each one of Steinbeck’s characters in Of Mice and Men alludes to the fact that it does not matter the situation one may currently or previously endure, one’s mental status, marital status, or racial status, the feeling of loneliness will preside in the mist of all the other feelings that one may feel. John Steinbeck displayed that seclusion and desolation which presides in the world in which the characters of the novella Of Mice and Men dwell in and their lives and trails display how each one of them either over overcome or become victim of the obliterating feeling of loneliness.

I dreaded coming home, it was the worst thing I could imagine and as i grew the feeling didn’t change. I would get out of bed quietly not wanting to wake up my mother, my bruises are still healing from yesterday’s beatings. I go to my closet and put on a black, long-sleeved shirt to cover up the scars, a pair of jeans to cover the hurt and a pair of hand-me-down sneakers. I quickly tip-toe past my mom’s room, only to see her lying there, sound asleep with an empty wine glass slowly slipping out of her hand. I grab my book bag and walk out the door and to the bus stop. I walked through the hallways, to each class and I hear the nasty comments and the rumors, secretly believing every word they say. I walked to lunch a sit alone as people pull

I woke up the following morning and glanced outside my foggy window. I closed my eyes the sound of rain began to slam on the roof. I dragged myself out of bed knowing what this morning had in store. Today I had to say goodbye to Sam. I lathargically brushed my teeth and got dressed subconsciously, in a daze. When I walked downstairs, I heard my dad ask, “How are you feeling kid?”

8th grade: I learned taking things for granted was a bad idea. On December 17, 2011, my mom was celebrating an early Christmas party with her friends in San Mateo, California. Around 1:30 in the morning, she headed to the bathroom and that’s when her life changed. She lost feeling in her body and her face looked drowsy. She luckily ran out the bathroom yelling for help, then passed out seconds later. The ambulance came in a matter of minutes. I woke up that morning, the house was silent as a library. I said “Good morning Beary” to my hamster, Chewy. There was a sense of sobbing in the kitchen, it was my Lola. “What’s wrong?” as I asked. She responds “Your mom is in the hospital and she had a stroke”. I broke down in tears like the Niagara Waterfalls. My lolo told us that my mom would have her surgery at Stanford Hospital since Mills Peninsula couldn’t take the procedure.

I grew up in a small town on Long Island called, Westbury. The street I grew up on didn’t have many kids my age, so I would usually play with the older kids. Every morning, as the sun would be rising my mom, would take my sisters to school and I would beg her to go with them. I would watch as the big yellow bus would drive down the small narrow street I lived on. When my sisters would come home they would be doing their homework on the kitchen table and I would be mesmerized at the way they read and write. As they would do their homework I would sit down near them and act as though I knew what the pages said. After they would be done with doing their homework my neighbors, sisters and I would always play a game we called “house” where we would

When I was in first grade, there was a long delay for my father to pick me up from school. I was in the principal’s office, very annoyed that I was missing an activity with gummy bears and being able to consume them later. I was confused, why was I called into the office? Was I in trouble? Did I forget something? My mind was racing with a thousand thoughts per second, while I waited impatiently twiddling my thumbs on the black leather chair. When I heard the faint footsteps approach the front office door, I saw my father with a solemn look and went straight to the principal’s lair. His usual demeanor was missing and I sensed trouble amuck when he didn’t beam at me with his happy smile. My eyes were glued to the door, hoping that

I fasten my seatbelt as I sit in the car. A glimmer of the morning sunrise , and a crackle of the window creep upon me. I blare 96.5 KISS FM, as to my favorite song comes on. Stitches by Shawn Mendes. As a matter of fact, it’s just another ordinary school day. We pull up in the appalling parking lot as my dad drops me off. “WOW, another day of this horror.” I say to myself. I hit up a chat with my best friend Paige although soon we had to head to class. I have loads of books in my backpack so I rush to my locker to unpack them.

John Steinbeck, author Of Mice and Men, paints a whole world of lonesomeness that creates an inevitable obstacle at every corner of life. Steinbeck lives through the characters of his story explaining the concept he perceives of loneliness. The way the characters talk, live, and even interact with the world and each other forms a world of isolation and solitude. Steinbeck integrates his ideas together to form a main theme of loneliness, one who has no friends or company, that none of the characters can avoid.

To be lonely is an easy thing, being alone is another matter entirely. To understand this, first one must understand the difference between loneliness and being alone. To be alone means that your are not in the company of anyone else. You are one. But loneliness can happen anytime, anywhere. You can be lonely in a crowd, lonely with friends, lonely with family. You can even be lonely while with loved ones. For feeling lonely, is in essence a feeling of being alone. As thought you were one and you feel as though you will always be that way. Loneliness can be one of the most destructive feelings humans are capable of feeling. For loneliness can lead to depression, suicide, and even to raging out and hurting friends and/or

I love books because my books love me back . In moments of distress literature guides me. When I am heavy hearted, I turn to my favorite novels, they reassure me that even in the worst situation good fate always wins . When I am lonely, I reacquaint myself with the safe and familiar characters that I have grew to love. When I am happy, I smile because I have lived the lives of warriors, enchantresses, and even the commonday person. Although the emotional connection between literature and myself is imperishable, there was a time in my life when that bond was nonexistent. However, for one to understand the significant impact stories have had on my life, one must know my life. Thus this story begins with my childhood. A conventional upbringing of sorts but of course my childhood doesn't begin with me. It begins with my parents. My parents met each other at high school when they were fourteen years old . Call it destiny, or mere luck, this one cue meet would define their lives for the next twenty two years. My parents fell quickly and passionately in love. Their devotion for one another as an imminent as their fallout, however, we are not there yet. We are at the bittersweet moments of young love. The moments that make one believe in eternity although these moments themselves cease to last just as long. My parents own version of forever welcomed a young little girl named Nicte Impala Perez on March 18th 1998. In that moment, my parents believed that the three of us could defeat

In a society filled with millions of people it is common for people to feel lonely. One cause of our feeling loneliness is rooted in our culture. We live in a highly competitive society; in which everyone is striving to be number one. Loneliness is an emotion, if one gets stuck in this emotion and allows it to consume oneself one can end up in a dark place called depression; it may also lead one to not be able to see that one is not in fact alone. Humans by nature fear being alone in life, it leads people to make choices in life ruled by fear. In some cases, one may get married and have children to avoid ending up alone in this big world. However, it doesn’t always work out as planned. This year my boyfriend’s grandmother moved in with us. She lost her husband to cancer 4-years-ago, these past years she has had no choice but to adjust to changes in her life, due to the absence of her partner in life. Furthermore, she has been strange from all her children due to her harsh personality and stubborn disagreements to say the lease, which has led her to end up feeling lonely in life at the age of 88. These past last months I have listen and witness this woman live in loneliness even when she has people surrounding her. She says things like “I need my husband and feel lost without him, he took care of me, I was his world.” Understanding her situation but not being able to fill the emotional space she has vacant because of the loss of her husband is difficult and heartbreaking. It