Empty Sorrow and Regrets

The boy walked through the vast empty hallways. Looking down at the ground, his feat shuffled against the dusty floors. He walked into the large quite room. Hello the tall women said. The boy nodded and continued to walk to his seat. He dropped his books onto the dusty stained black table with a loud bang. It rang through the room but nothing stirred. He pulled out his chair and sat down. He lifted his now dirty books that had rubbed against the filthy table. He sighed. He slumped down into the chair and started at the block walls. More people walked in. Hello another girl said.
Hello 
Are you going to the play?
I don’t know. 
Did you buy a ticket?
Yeah.
Oh.
I am just too lazy to go.
Oh. 
She sat down putting her books onto the table. 
The tall women walked over to their table with a frown on her face. She pointed to several paintings hung upon the wall. She looked backed to the boy and girl. Shes dead. The boy and the girl stared up as their eyes widen but remained glass like. The boy looked over.
What happened.
She found happiness in another way.
Oh.
It happened yesterday morning.
The news hung in the air and yet nothing stirred. The people dragged on with their daily task. The boy sat there no tears coming to his eyes. Sadness but hollow he felt. No rage or anger came to him. Just confusion, sadness, and emptiness. Nothing could be done. Nothing. He put his head down on the dusty table and sighed. 


[This is imitating the style of Cormac McCarthy. The passage I wrote is based on the following events that have happened a couple days ago. I changed most of the events that happened to add onto the the sadness and grieve. If you cannot tell what happened, a girl had committed suicide the day before. She had amazing art talent, dreams, friends, and family too. Yet she couldn't take it anymore and took her life. I don't know all the details nor do I really know the girl but I felt as if I lost a family member for she was from the art district from my school. In honor of her name I decided to write this. It may not be the best way to honor one's death but I couldn't sit at home and do nothing. Unlike other forms of death, when someone take their own life you cant do much. You cant avenge their death or bring a criminal to justice. Instead its a death of regret that you didn't know earlier and that you were not there to help. So to those who read this take a moment to consider the the people around you and the things you say to them. Even if your joking something you say could hurt a person baldly. Not everyone is as happy as they seem.]

My teacher

     The sound of chatter filled the hallway as a swarm of students mobbed through like a clogged pipe. I walked through the mass of students rushing to make it to class on time. Take my sweet leisure time I walked down the hallway looking at the people as they passed me. A student crashed into my shoulder as he tried to weave through the incoming traffic. I brushed off my shoulders and continued calmly. I sighed as the door way to the class room loomed into view. "Another day," I thought to myself. I stopped in front of the door way and waited as the flow of students rushed past me. I saw an opportunity and dashed forward dodging and sidestepping around students.
     I walked into the room and was greeted by a rush of uncomfortably muffling warm air. My teacher was passing out papers taking no notice of my presence. He left the room, standing by the door wear glaring at passing students with judging eyes.  I put on my poker face and sat down with an expressionless face. More students walked in until the bell rang, echoing through the once flooded hallways. The door shut behind him as her re-entered the room, shutting my hopes of freedom. He sat down and glared at us with menacing eyes through his black rimmed glasses. He said good morning in Spanish and we repeated the same back at him in a robotic unison. As usual, he told us to take out our homework as he got up holding his clipboard. He walked down the aisles, eyeing our homework as he went. He stopped suddenly at the student who had a guilty face. He raised one eye brow. "No homework?" He said. The girl shock her head in fear and he took his blood red pen and made little marks on his suspicious clipboard. He sat back down and began to review homework.
      He took out a bundle of Popsicle sticks, tied together by a rubber band. With a quick sharp snap he undid the rubber band. Various students names were written on each stick. He picked on and looked at it. He announced the students name which rang through the room. The student nervously began to answer the question from the homework. He continued this until a he reaches one student. He asked the student what the phrase meant. The student stared at his paper with a black stare as beads of sweat collected on his forehead. " Well," he said. "If you don't know what your homework means, that is a zero." He picked up his pen and like a sword make several quick slashes across the paper. My heart pace quicken as the a premonition flashed in my head. His hands reached for the pile and picked up another stick. With the few milliseconds I had i quickly tried to decipher the foreign language. He said my name with a sharp tone which hung in the air with each syllable. I cringed and picked up my paper and started at it. I gulped and slowly answered. I waited for a reply. "Correct." he said as he continued. I sighed and time began to flow normally again. I looked out the window and sighed. "Another day in Spanish class." I thought to myslef.

Mask of a Fake Identity

An identity is something we all go by and something that represents us. Many things create this identity we go by. Our face, clothes, personality, likes, dislikes, and many other things create our identity. However, not everyone is satisfied by this identity that they live by. These people are usually embarrassed by who they really are. As a result, they create a "mask." This "mask" is a creation of what they wish to be. Such people hide behind these disguises to escape the ridicule that bashes them. For examples, those who are bullied hide behind a mask to limit the pain they receive. I know this because when I was a child i was bullied. I wanted to hide in this facade of lies to hide the pain that they had inflicted upon me. In order to end the pain, I created this identity as a form of conformity to be accepted by the group. Eventually, this mask blended in with who I really was and created who I really am today. Nearly everyone wears a mask that hides their true identity. This veil that we hide under can be good and eventually create a new better personality on people. Others hide behind them to reveal their true nature. These people life their life on a road of lies. 

However, sometimes we must take these masks off us to truly live life. How can one live their life hiding as something they are truly not? People won’t be able to have a fun time if they are constantly focusing on maintaining this disguise. No matter how hard we try to hide our personality, like a translucent veil, our true personality will eventually shine through.

Nearly the whole world hides behind a visage of fake emotions to be accepted into society. In other words they give into conformity. But if there are so many people who are ridicule wouldn't that mean we are all alike and all wish to be like something we are not? Why does our world continue to hate on others? We continue to live in a world where people cannot be who they truly are and be accepted by the environment around them.