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Eng 101 - Warrior Essay

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Iyteria Gallman

English 101

Mrs. Bickley

September 21st, 2015


“Say Something, I’m giving up on you

I’ll be the one if you want me to

Anywhere I would’ve followed you

Say something, I’m giving up on you

And I I’m feeling so small…”

A Great Big World featuring Christina Aguilera’s “Say Something,” blaring through my alarm clock had me scrambling out of my snug king sized bed knowing, I had to get prepared for another day of visiting my own personal hell. A place of weeping, and everlasting destruction, also known as North Jayce High School.

My name is Karmen, and I am a senior this year. With a name like Karmen, you would expect me to be bubbly, but that is not who I am. I have a very introverted personality that has caused me many problems in the past. Even with my closed off attitude, I have still managed to have a friend or two, and no, I am not popular nor am I graced with the type beauty my world would like to be aware of. To the world, I am just your average, run of the mill, hormonally imbalanced teenaged girl with voluminous kinky hair and a metal factory for a mouth. To me, I am a raging warrior, preparing for the next battle in the war called life. As a warrior, I have to be prepared at all times, so as I get ready for school, I don upon my holy temple the final piece of my armor: a concocted smile that I have painstakingly mastered over the years. As I look into the mirror, I can finally see the completed result of my skillful disguise; a pair of dejected  eyes giving off a blank stare as if I had witnessed death firsthand, a face that seems to fade into the deep dark abyss of despair, and the my oh-so-famous smile. This is the look of a warrior more than ready to face the annihilation, the eradication, and the king of death himself, the grim reaper. Some people say I am a mad, deranged, suicidal teenager who had never been given love as a child. Sadly, they are right about me never receiving any love as a child, but as for as the “mad, deranged, and suicidal teenager” part, I can truly say that this is not true. I am just warrior trying to survive this world. If I have to be cold-hearted and a mere leftover shell of my former self, then so be it.

Strolling out of my house, I take a quick look at my surroundings, scoping out the peace that brings a false sense of security to the unsuspecting world. As a warrior, I have to be aware of my surroundings. Being the warrior that I am causes me to notice certain things, such as how the sun began to cast a soft glow upon the land, as the fog gradually receded back into the atmosphere. In the background, I can hear the barely-audible sound of the birds chirping. I stood silently, watching for a few minutes, as the rain from last night’s downpour began to drip ever so calmly down onto the ground below from the great oak tree that graced my yard with its overcasting presence. Throwing my head back, I examined the sky pondering heaven. Since I am already in hell, why not wonder about heaven? Is it as beautiful as they say? Are the images of angels, with their widespread wings and golden halos, strumming harps true? Will I ever be allowed there? These are the types of questions I ask myself every God forsaken morning.

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