again with writer's craft we had to write another reflective essay...i pulled this one out of my ass in about 2 and a half hours...the day it was due. it's rough but whatever. i apologize for the weird way that the essay lines turned out...i couldnt fix them.
Outside looking in
My experience as an outsider in a public place was an odd one. I didn’t belong
with these people. Since then I have left them to become my own person. I freed myself
from the strings that pull people into groups. At least I thought I did. I never could cut the
strings, they were just longer. I was getting tangled in the social world. I was being pulled
in so many directions, that I couldn’t tell where I wanted to be.
I was better then people I was with in the beginning. As horrible as that sounds, I
deserved better. I deserved friends who were like me; they understand me, accept me and
are proper and socially acceptable. Eating lunch with them every day in a socially
unacceptable place already made me feel like an outsider. The judging eyes passing by,
only for a second yet thrusting a life sentence. I was an outsider to the outcasts, so what
did that make me? I didn’t belong with them. I was someone who was afraid of showing
who I was, so I stuck myself in a group that didn’t care what colour my hair was, or if I
had glasses, if I was skinny or fat. But I judged them. I was an outsider to them, which
meant I belonged somewhere else. I belonged in a different group, one that judges, and one that accepts. These people that I had given three years of my life to were crude, rude,
annoying, and weird. All but one whom I still talk to. He doesn’t belong in that group,
but it’s what he wants so I’m happy for him. I just didn’t belong with them, because I am
a “Judger”.
I’m not a vocal judger. I run a sitcom line from the show “Friends” through my
head that fits what I see, I laugh to myself, the judged none the wiser. I’m not a cruel
person. Everyone judges people. I judge through constructive criticism. The person I pick apart the most is myself. Often a time, I’m caught looking at myself in my mirror. All I
ever stare at is my body. Lately I’ve just been looking in the mirror and all I see are my
eyes. And within them are the eyes of my younger self, wondering where she went. She
wants to get out. She feels trapped in the mind of a twenty-one year old. Another
personality. Yet sometimes her emotions come through to my surface, and I recognize
her. I embrace her, and I begin to love my body. And then I find myself at school the next
day and she’s gone. She left me to defend myself, in the piranha infested halls.
I like to name my personalities. They are all so different, and I don’t want to
connect them to the little girl I was. I’m tired of being the innocent girl that my parents
want to tuck in. I want to live life on the edge; I call her Natalie (Nat when she’s present).
The little girl who wants out is known as Kaitlyn. Someone I’m not too fond of right
now. When I’m the girl in between I’m just Kate. The reason for all these personalities is
explainable, but I don’t think I could do it any justice. The best I could say is "I’m just a
girl trying to become a woman she would want to be". Struggling with who, what, where,
when, and why. Music seems to be the best provoking tool that brings parts of me out.
Characters in movies and shows also play their part. I see the persona, and I want to be
that person. One reason why I want to be an actor. I can morph into the character
required, submerging myself completely, and coming up for air now and then.
You look at me and see the girl who lives inside the golden world But don't believe that's all there is to see. You'll never know the real me. I smile through a
thousand tears, and harbour adolescent fears. I dream of all that I can never be. I wade in
insecurity and hide inside myself. Don't say I take it all for granted. I'm well aware of all
I have. Don't think that I am disenchanted, please understand. It seems as though I've
always been somebody outside looking in. Well, here I am for all of them to bleed, but
they can't take my heart from me. And they can't bring me to my knees. They'll never
know the real me. – Mariah Carey says it best. You’ll never know the real me, until I
know myself.
My experience as an outsider in a public place was an odd one. I didn’t belong
with these people. Since then I have left them to become my own person. I freed myself
from the strings that pull people into groups. At least I thought I did. I never could cut the
strings, they were just longer. I was getting tangled in the social world. I was being pulled
in so many directions, that I couldn’t tell where I wanted to be.
I was better then people I was with in the beginning. As horrible as that sounds, I
deserved better. I deserved friends who were like me; they understand me, accept me and
are proper and socially acceptable. Eating lunch with them every day in a socially
unacceptable place already made me feel like an outsider. The judging eyes passing by,
only for a second yet thrusting a life sentence. I was an outsider to the outcasts, so what
did that make me? I didn’t belong with them. I was someone who was afraid of showing
who I was, so I stuck myself in a group that didn’t care what colour my hair was, or if I
had glasses, if I was skinny or fat. But I judged them. I was an outsider to them, which
meant I belonged somewhere else. I belonged in a different group, one that judges, and one that accepts. These people that I had given three years of my life to were crude, rude,
annoying, and weird. All but one whom I still talk to. He doesn’t belong in that group,
but it’s what he wants so I’m happy for him. I just didn’t belong with them, because I am
a “Judger”.
I’m not a vocal judger. I run a sitcom line from the show “Friends” through my
head that fits what I see, I laugh to myself, the judged none the wiser. I’m not a cruel
person. Everyone judges people. I judge through constructive criticism. The person I pick apart the most is myself. Often a time, I’m caught looking at myself in my mirror. All I
ever stare at is my body. Lately I’ve just been looking in the mirror and all I see are my
eyes. And within them are the eyes of my younger self, wondering where she went. She
wants to get out. She feels trapped in the mind of a twenty-one year old. Another
personality. Yet sometimes her emotions come through to my surface, and I recognize
her. I embrace her, and I begin to love my body. And then I find myself at school the next
day and she’s gone. She left me to defend myself, in the piranha infested halls.
I like to name my personalities. They are all so different, and I don’t want to
connect them to the little girl I was. I’m tired of being the innocent girl that my parents
want to tuck in. I want to live life on the edge; I call her Natalie (Nat when she’s present).
The little girl who wants out is known as Kaitlyn. Someone I’m not too fond of right
now. When I’m the girl in between I’m just Kate. The reason for all these personalities is
explainable, but I don’t think I could do it any justice. The best I could say is "I’m just a
girl trying to become a woman she would want to be". Struggling with who, what, where,
when, and why. Music seems to be the best provoking tool that brings parts of me out.
Characters in movies and shows also play their part. I see the persona, and I want to be
that person. One reason why I want to be an actor. I can morph into the character
required, submerging myself completely, and coming up for air now and then.
You look at me and see the girl who lives inside the golden world But don't believe that's all there is to see. You'll never know the real me. I smile through a
thousand tears, and harbour adolescent fears. I dream of all that I can never be. I wade in
insecurity and hide inside myself. Don't say I take it all for granted. I'm well aware of all
I have. Don't think that I am disenchanted, please understand. It seems as though I've
always been somebody outside looking in. Well, here I am for all of them to bleed, but
they can't take my heart from me. And they can't bring me to my knees. They'll never
know the real me. – Mariah Carey says it best. You’ll never know the real me, until I
know myself.
4 comments:
keep up the good work!!!
lol why thank you! remember, as long you keep thinking positively things will always work out in the end. Hope to see you friday!!
wow that was a really really good reflective essay.....especially considering the fact that you wrote it in 2 and a half hours.
i really like it. i hope you do well!
i would think that too, but aparrently my teacher doesn't agree.
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