Wake Me Up When September Ends

meeting cushion and what seems to be cold metal above me. Wiggling my toes, I attempt to stand up but end up hitting my head on what can only be the roof of this coffin-like room. My body aches like I haven’t moved in years and just woke up from an extremely long nap. Logically, pushing my arms up in an attempt to get out the roof surprisingly opens hitting me in the face with the glaring sun. Swinging it over,

I splashed some water in my face, standing at the bathroom sink. Graduation Day was upon me and I needed to freshen up a bit. Staring at myself in the mirror I ran my fingers across the mustache that had popped up over my 8th grade year. Today was going to be a good day, I hoped. My leg is not bothering me too much today, so that is a plus. Grandpa seemed to be more like his old self then he had been in months, though he still was not himself. That brought a flash of sadness across my face. It had

making ends meet, and he just didn’t want her to sell any of her paintings. He would often times tell people “No” so they wouldn’t buy any of her paintings because he wanted them all to himself. She had an interest in nature and used bright colors in her paintings.

happened. I think Biss makes it clear what she wants those three things to be in this piece by much emphasize of information on those three statements. There are many things in this article that Biss repeats and mentions several times throughout. When talking about her family, Biss talks about each member with the same introduction. “And I don’t mean specifically that my mother’s sister later remarried and adopted a black son, or that my mother’s sister adopted a Cherokee daughter. And I don’t mean

had gotten into numerous altercations and stopped being friends for a long time. Breanna messaged me and I decided that we should go get some ice cream. It turns out she wanted to say sorry for how she was acting. To this day, I consider her my best friend. Breanna and I reconciled in May and haven’t stopped being friends since. Earlier that year, I had met my friend Alyssa. She was basically like me, loud, crazy, cool, and didn’t care about others opinions on her. This is what basically bonded us

That was me at age 16 barely a junior in High School, they say high school is supposed to be a great experience. And it was at the beginning which was my freshman and sophomore year. I was that girl athlete with lots of friends who went day by day not caring about my health I would eat lots of junk food and stay up late at night. I come from a Hispanic family single parent my mom and 4 siblings 3 girls and one boy. Two had already gotten married and there was only 3 left at home including me. My mom

Ciara Young Professor Jenny Ronsman College Writing, Sec 0004 29 September 2017 We are all Self-centered This is Water, was a commencement speech given by David Foster Wallace at Kenyon College in 2005. Ever since this speech has been given it has become well known. Because of the length, it can be hard to read through the speech while trying to understand the whole idea of it. Wallace fills the speech with stories, examples, and vivid ideas while trying to convince these college graduates how to

beside the deep pool, the weeping willows cry out as the wind rattles their bones. The howling tempestuous wind carries me into a clearing where a little girl, with her hair like an inferno splayed around her head like a delicate band, lies asleep in the silvery moonlight. I fly right up to her and land on her chest, where a scarlet black rose lies dead upon her breast. I wake up. I don’t know where I am. My vision is blurred. I can just make out that it’s dark and that I am lying on my back among

My Father Affects Me I am the only child in my family. I am the apple of my parents' eye. My mother gives me all the things I want. However, my father looks solemn. He never talks too much to me. Maybe he is busy all the time, and maybe he does not like to express his feelings. For this reason, I can remember all the things that happened between my father and me. A hero, he affects my whole life. When I was seven years old, I was in primary school. I remembered clearly our teacher told us that

reality of living with both depression and anxiety. With my anxiety, it is hard for me to drive to therapy every week. I am constantly overthinking everything, no matter how big or small the activity is. As I drive to therapy, my stomach aches. I get sweaty palms, and my heart race increases. I feel shaky and lightheaded, but I keep driving because I know therapy will help me in the long run. My mind is already making me feel nauseous the closer I get to arriving. I have become home-bound and just the