Memoir Of My Dying Soul Essay Research

Memoir Of My Dying Soul Essay, Research Paper

The warm sensation rushed from my body as my cover was ripped away from my skin. The flourish of the music pouring from the radio combined with the chants fleeing from my mother.s mouth swelled in my ears, sending that aggravating signal to the brain that it was time to wake up. My body managed to turn despite the complete lack of motion. I reached for the place that my cover had resided, finding nothing but my left leg. Screams of my name swept through my head, consuming the islands of sleep with tides of light that erupted from the outside world.

As I rejoined the world of the living, I found myself in landscape of ruins in my own room and my own house, and I did not c are. I looked up to my clock lingering above my head. The glowing, red 7:20 stared at me, giving me that look of disappointment that I had become so accustomed to. Obscenities fled from my mouth as I unwrapped myself from my covers, tripping over my table that held a plate of now-cold eggs and room temperature milk that my mom had apparently gotten up early to prepare for me. I tried to avoid knocking over the glass, but it had already happened. The cup lay on its side, as a waterfall of white fluid rushed over the edge of the table. I neglected the mess, intending to clean it up later.

I discovered myself drowning in the same dreary routine as I stumbled to my closet, stripping a shirt from its hanger. Running to the bathroom, I swept up a pair of pants that I had worn the previous day. I dressed myself, gave my teeth a quick swipe with my toothbrush, and ran some water through my hair, drenching my shirt with the excess. I flipped the light switch and ran up the stairs two at a time, tripping over the shoestrings that dangled beneath my pants.

I conquered the stairs and ran to the kitchen, specifically the refrigerator. I went for the door, noticing a piece of paper attached with the incessantly annoying smiley face magnet.

Hope you enjoyed your breakfast. I.ll see you when you get home from school. Have a good day. I love you, Mom.

I continued to open the door and grabbed the milk jug. I went to the cabinet, pulled a cup from the shelf, and poured the milk into the cup. I went to the second flight of stairs and yelled for my brother.

.I was suppose to be at school five minutes ago,. my brother bellowed back to me as he came down the stairs.

I ignored his comments as I left the house, locking the door behind me.

School was the same. People were eager to get the closest parking spots. I pulled around, finally seeing a place that everyone had overlooked. I sped into the space, barely missing the opening door of the car next to me.

My brother evacuated the car, not thanking me for the ride. I remained in the car, watching the crystalline drops of rain that had begun to fall on my window. I love the rain; at least I had one thing good in my life today. Yet, sometimes I wondered if what we perceive as rain is really God.s crying at the sight of what His Creation had become.

I eventually left the car and headed to my group of friends. I stood and listened to their conversations. It was the usual discussing of which girls are .hot.. I hate these types of conversations. I can.t believe that they would push a girl down to the level of being .hot.. I choose to issue the word of beautiful to describe them. Beautiful is such a more delicate, yet powerful word to describe a girl.

I watched the flocks of people maneuver their way across the sidewalk. There was the girl. I had no idea who she was. I had no knowledge about her. I didn.t even know her name. I saw her walking to class every morning, yet I could not conjure up the strength to bring myself to talk to her. In the midst of a world where everyone.s face burns, hers was the one that glows. My friends constantly encouraged me to talk to her, but I couldn.t do it. I wasn.t sure why though. There was no one else that I was interested in. After all, my girlfriend had broken up with me over three months ago. It wasn.t like I still wanted to be with her. It wasn.t like I couldn.t get over her. It wasn.t even that I missed her, but maybe it was that I missed my heart. It was the one thing I had given her that I should.ve taken back. For some reason, I didn.t. Tomorrow, tomorrow I would talk to the girl. Tomorrow I would find out who she was.

My friends interrupted my thoughts by questioning my silence. I excused myself as being sick. Being sick was always my excuse. It was better than trying to explain that I sometimes enjoyed silence. People seem to have forgotten that solitude, just as the rain, can still be a good thing.

The bell rang. I began walking to class, passing my fellow sheep on my way. Yet, there weren.t my fellow sheep, there was something that set me apart from them.

She walked toward me. It was me ex-girlfriend. Every time I saw her, our final conversation replayed over and over. I still remember her words of .you.ll be an even bigger loser. and .I guess you don.t have any self esteem.. That had always been my biggest fear, being a loser. I had heard other people say it behind my back, but I never took any thought to it because I didn.t care about those people. When I heard it from her, I believed it. I was a loser. As she passed me, I just smiled my usual distant smile.