Longest war

Grey lights filled the already cold room. The constant beeps and clicks from the machines against the wall scraped away at the silence that hardened the air. Every once in a while the beeps would get faster, and then fall back down to a steady, rhythmic pace. A small, frail girl lay motionless in the center of a white hospital bed. Her mouth propped slightly open with various tubes running down her throat, and hands connected to the machines through an elaborate arrangement of cords and needles.

time I think when parents utterly question the whole reason why they had unprotected sex in the beginning. Your body goes through such an awkward state of being, puberty. Ugh, just saying the word makes me cringe, just like my voice did for the longest time. You could say I was the definition of a “late bloomer,” my mind was advancing and I was growing taller but never gained any muscle, facial hair or balls dropping, unlike the other boys. Middle school was this transitional period where boys

my years-long depression by that fall. Freshman year was the first of many trainwrecks at Penn. Things at home became complicated, and I juggled home, classes, and my joke of a social life quietly. Being a reflective person had helped me for the longest time (as it is now, writing this), but it was my undoing. I had become a mirror trying to see my own reflection, so much in awe of the infinite that I felt infinitesimal. Things before college had always been a game—things to win, things to lose,

God; creator of all heaven and earth, gave me so much joy! But the one thing I always questioned was “ am I the only one who feels this way?” and “why?”. Church was a good place. As a family we would always come on Sundays and Fridays, and for the longest time i felt very content with how everything was. The choir, the sermons, the prayers... then everything started changing in the year of two thousand fifteen. That year i started noticing things that i felt blind to before. The sermons were all based

How do we get out of this labyrinth of suffering? It’s a simple question to ask, but the answer is one not quite so easy to search out and uncover. You’d be more likely to discover a bag of dusty, old dinosaur bones in your backyard before you could uncover the answer to that question. In order to answer the question at hand, you must first understand three things. One; a labyrinth is a maze leading you through Hell and back, filled with false paths, twists, and turns - don’t get lost. Two; as long

research paper over. I could only stare at the letter grade up in the top right hand corner. Speechless, words could not enough to express how I felt. My dad always told me, “ Learn how to learn.” Those words that did not mean anything to me for the longest time became amplified. I knew that the lessons I had learned from writing the paper were more important than the grade itself. It all started at the beginning of junior year. We, the English class, started off with a bang my

Preface: why write? One of the first things, if not the first thing, that anyone is asked when writing an autobiography is "why?" Why write about your life? What makes it worth reading about? What makes you different from everyone else? While I don 't have the answers for most of those questions, at least not yet, I 'm fairly confident about why I 'm writing this down. It 's the reason why most people write anything down: to have something to leave behind. Whether it 's a set of laws or instructions

I never really had a problem with telling someone how I felt until now. My appearance, both inside and out started to bother me. From that point on I was disgusted with myself and tried to change every little imperfection that they saw. For the longest time, my objective was to change me. I wasn’t so much adjusting myself for me. I was adjusting myself for the

Lima Mall, it sounds boring, but when going with my Aunt Mercedes it ends up being a blast. We end up looking like really big goofballs whenever we go out in public. When we go shopping at Lima Mall we look like crazy, ladies, because my weird personality forces me to act like I am not normal. Cedes tries to keep her son Emery and I behaving, and it makes me laugh, because she looks mean. Emery, Cedes, and I go around looking for one specific store, so we end up wandering around lost until we realize

speed, alternative patterns to try on the course, motivational phrases to keep on repeat, nothing I wouldn’t read in the run-of-the-mill article---but the only one that truly came out to me had been a line on loving what you’re doing. I sat for the longest time in my chair, staring at the screen and jaw unhinged, as I read it over and over until it finally dawned in my