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NO CLASSES TOMORROW~ WOOT WOOT!!! X ]
I love Independent Learning Day. 3-day weekend, anyone? ; ]
I've decided to post the essay I've written for English Lit. class today,
where we used an inspirational quote from the novel, Jonathan Livingston Seagull.
Somehow, during the writing process it got a little bit more personal than expected,
but what the hell, tell me what you think when you read it?
Oh yes, and Mme. Pepito really is my target audience, if you're asking DENISE.
Thankies Ranga, for editing and the wonderful comments.
I so love you despite the whole freaking over the whole plagarism thing. ; p
So I hope that you LJers out there can read and hopefully enjoy my essay. You guys make my days with comments, so yeah... ♥<3
I love Independent Learning Day. 3-day weekend, anyone? ; ]
I've decided to post the essay I've written for English Lit. class today,
where we used an inspirational quote from the novel, Jonathan Livingston Seagull.
Somehow, during the writing process it got a little bit more personal than expected,
but what the hell, tell me what you think when you read it?
Oh yes, and Mme. Pepito really is my target audience, if you're asking DENISE.
Thankies Ranga, for editing and the wonderful comments.
I so love you despite the whole freaking over the whole plagarism thing. ; p
So I hope that you LJers out there can read and hopefully enjoy my essay. You guys make my days with comments, so yeah... ♥<3
Little Rag Doll.
There is something vaguely beautiful about the art of pretending. You become a magician, a conjurer, as you create a facade out of what seems to be pieces of who you once were. A theory could be that this is a defense mechanism; a way to blatantly ignore what is before you, drowning yourself in denial which seems to swallow you whole. We humans are the masters of deception; our abilities to completely immerse ourselves into denial has no compare. Ignorance is bliss, after all. We delude ourselves into thinking what we want to think, see what we want to see, until the truth has been blurred, taken apart and sewn back together. You're left with a cheap imitation in a place where you will look at yourself and not recognize what you see. Welcome to our society, where the only person holding you back is yourself.
I remember growing up surrounded by friends who weren't real, boys who were too immature, girls too egotistical and plastic like freshly made Tupperware. There were times that I occasionally looked back wherein I saw myself as this little girl, trying so hard to grow up while simultaneously craving the security of being just a kid. She was isolated and always seemed to be alone, despite being surrounded by a sea of people. She was cracked, missing pieces of affection that her parent's simply couldn't fix. Their love held her together, but she lacked that certain piece that would have made her whole. Her best friend, for a while, had started to cover up that missing piece. But just as the glue began to dry, she broke when her best friend left. By then, that little girl had already known better. She found her own form of thread and paste in friends with plastic smiles and Tupperware hearts. The stitches were unaligned, the paste seeping out of the edges, but she managed to be whole. Sometime later, that little girl became a young woman. She left grade school and entered the teenage world of high school. She had some friends with her, but they left as well and she was alone again. Soon she was left with crooked stitches and messy, dried glue on the pieces of who she is... or was.
I was... no, I am that girl. But somehow, I found my perfect sealant to cover up the thread and smoothen out the mess of paste. I found that sealant in friends who pushed me to be just me, the real me. They made sure I was whole before they gradually exposed the real me to new, different things that I had previously denied myself. I am where I want to be. I may not be perfect, the stitches may not be straight and the glue will still be a little messy, but I have the perfect sealant: friends who have warm eyes and beautiful hearts without a hint of plastic.
"You have the freedom to be yourself, your true self, here and now, and nothing can stand in your way."
There is something vaguely beautiful about the art of pretending. You become a magician, a conjurer, as you create a facade out of what seems to be pieces of who you once were. A theory could be that this is a defense mechanism; a way to blatantly ignore what is before you, drowning yourself in denial which seems to swallow you whole. We humans are the masters of deception; our abilities to completely immerse ourselves into denial has no compare. Ignorance is bliss, after all. We delude ourselves into thinking what we want to think, see what we want to see, until the truth has been blurred, taken apart and sewn back together. You're left with a cheap imitation in a place where you will look at yourself and not recognize what you see. Welcome to our society, where the only person holding you back is yourself.
I remember growing up surrounded by friends who weren't real, boys who were too immature, girls too egotistical and plastic like freshly made Tupperware. There were times that I occasionally looked back wherein I saw myself as this little girl, trying so hard to grow up while simultaneously craving the security of being just a kid. She was isolated and always seemed to be alone, despite being surrounded by a sea of people. She was cracked, missing pieces of affection that her parent's simply couldn't fix. Their love held her together, but she lacked that certain piece that would have made her whole. Her best friend, for a while, had started to cover up that missing piece. But just as the glue began to dry, she broke when her best friend left. By then, that little girl had already known better. She found her own form of thread and paste in friends with plastic smiles and Tupperware hearts. The stitches were unaligned, the paste seeping out of the edges, but she managed to be whole. Sometime later, that little girl became a young woman. She left grade school and entered the teenage world of high school. She had some friends with her, but they left as well and she was alone again. Soon she was left with crooked stitches and messy, dried glue on the pieces of who she is... or was.
I was... no, I am that girl. But somehow, I found my perfect sealant to cover up the thread and smoothen out the mess of paste. I found that sealant in friends who pushed me to be just me, the real me. They made sure I was whole before they gradually exposed the real me to new, different things that I had previously denied myself. I am where I want to be. I may not be perfect, the stitches may not be straight and the glue will still be a little messy, but I have the perfect sealant: friends who have warm eyes and beautiful hearts without a hint of plastic.
"You have the freedom to be yourself, your true self, here and now, and nothing can stand in your way."
-Jonathan Livingston Seagull
Where I Am: The Thoughts That Haunt
What I'm Feeling: 
accomplished
accomplishedWhat I'm Listening to: My Immortal by Evanescence
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