The House on Amethyst Court
We didn’t always live on Amethyst Court. We’ve lived in three other places before this, but this is the only place that is truly ours. It wasn’t perfect at first and it wasn’t like the big houses you would see on T.V., with multiple bedrooms and a huge backyard with the greenest grass. But, it was ours and there was a lot of time and effort put into this house to make it the way it is now. It’s got hardwood floors with newly painted walls and even the door is new and stands out next to the other houses. Although the backyard isn’t big, it now holds all the best memories which makes it okay. We have grand, brown stairs and four rooms so none of us have to share a bedroom, except my parents of course. It may not have been the picture perfect house we dreamed of owning, but it’s definitely become a symbol of hard work and I think that I would be proud to say that I live here.
One day I’m going to have a place of my own. Maybe an apartment or maybe a whole house. As long as it’s mine it doesn’t really matter that much to me. I just want to feel like I can do anything I want without anyone telling me otherwise. I want to listen to my music without anyone telling me to lower the volume. I want to stay up as late as I want without anyone having to tell me to turn off the lights. Most of all, I want to feel independent. Being independent means the freedom to do what you want to do. Now, I know that it’s tough to be on your own, but I’m not saying that I want to leave everyone behind. I just need to experience that type of freedom and one day, I am going to get it.
Come outside and get the things from the car, Dad says. I get all the things and I pile through the groceries and some new clothes and I can see that he got the colored pencils. What about the markers? There weren’t any at the store. How am I going to finish my project? Well, it’s too late to go look at another store.
It’s seven and I’ve been waiting all day to get the materials for my project and Dad comes back without the markers. Now I have to hurry and finish the project quick because it’s due tomorrow. Everybody’s laughing in the other room except me because I have to work without the markers. I only have the dull colored pencils that won’t make my project look pretty.
Then my mom comes in and she is sitting next to me and it doesn’t matter that she says that the project looks good or that it will get a good grade because I don’t have the markers. Then she picks up the colored pencils and she starts coloring with me. I want to tell her that she can’t make it look better but then she keeps drawing and coloring and it slowly starts to come together and I forget why I really needed the markers in the first place. Then my mom, who I think is proud of me, tells me that my project will be the best.
There Was Once a Young Woman, She Had So Much Homework She Didn’t Know What To Do
The amount of homework I have is too much and too time consuming. It’s not my fault I have so much. It just keeps piling up. There’s never enough time to finish all of it and to enjoy some time for myself. How can I when I constantly have to learn new things that I probably won’t ever use and then get tested on it barely a week later? The homework, the quizzes, the tests… they’re a never ending pile of torment that won’t let me enjoy my free time even on days off. Teachers assign it everyday. They think it will help me. After a while, I won’t be able to remember the old things I learned. I’ll need to save space for the new things. And I’m so close to giving up but I know I have to keep going. I can’t give up. I have to hope that this will lead to better things. In the meantime, I’ll keep swimming. And if I can’t swim, then I’ll just have to float. Anything to keep from drowning.
Lots of Books
Books. They’ve helped me so much over the years. Helped me when I was sad, or angry, or even just bored. Helped me when I just wanted to forget about everything that was going on around me. They are the source of comfort that I can always depend on. When I couldn’t find someone to talk to about what I was going through, I would just go into my room and open a book. It made me feel better to see characters overthinking and worrying just like I did because even written characters didn’t have to be perfect. It strengthened me to see them rise up and face all their problems even though they were scared and it seemed like they wouldn’t make it out alive. Besides comforting me, they’ve taught me so much about courage and bravery and about never giving up even when it feels impossible not to. They’ve taught me that things will always work out, even if you have to sacrifice some things along the way. I don’t really remember when I got so into reading, but I know that I am eternally grateful to have found something that has helped me cope with all the problems and strong emotions throughout my life.