preview

My Life - Original Writing

Better Essays

It was as if life was sluggishly pulling out my blooming, tender, young heart, and crushing it. He would then extract another heart; a dark, dry, crusty, lifeless heart from his grey bag of elderliness and age, and would push it in, not quick and swiftly, but slowly...making my skin wrinkle like a purple prune, turning my hair gray as a mop, slowly killing and forcing death upon me. Aging felt like a gunshot; a stab; poison to my soul. As I was slowly swaying into the stuffy, crowded, gymnasium, I was reminded of that once again. It was the melancholy truth. I would nevermore be in elementary school again, for the rest of my brief life. “Are you all ready?” our obsidian-haired music teacher asked, with a depressed, gloomy tone. She irritated me a lot throughout the course of the school year, like a cheetah picking on an antelope, and she scarcely taught us any music other than things I, and almost everyone, already knew. It was a great thing we weren’t tested on any of the stuff we were supposed to learn, because would I failed for sure. This year, we had to sing “Happy” by Pharrell. “Sure,” I replied sarcastically, along with a few others. Our tones were unexcited, as was hers. I hoped the song didn’t end up to be as terrible as it was during practice. But I was mistaken. At every note I cringed, as if I were watching a horror movie. Ten students were offkey, another ten ahead of the rest of us, and yet another ten behind the rest of us. It was

Get Access