Crys Bishop

Here, There, Somewhere In Between
2003-01-31 09:24:02 (UTC)

Self Portrait-essay

another essay written for grammar and composition class
this year

It’s morning again and time for another day of school. I
manage to pry myself out of bed again and get into action.
In my room I search frantically for something to wear. As
usual I’m running late to begin with and none of my clothes
fit my small frame. My pants are either too short or too
large at the waist and shirts hang limp on me just as they
do on the hangers I take them from. I finally settle on a
polo shirt the same sandy shade as my hair color. I glance
down and see that the scars are too prevalent today and I
must wear a sweater. I jump into a pair of always too-large
jeans in a rush to disguise my pale, wiry legs. My bony
hands hold a snow-white cigarette, not much lighter than my
skin, and it’s soon aflame. The cigarette once the length
of my stick-like fingers burns down quickly and I stub it
harshly out in the ashtray. My teeth, which many might
imagine yellowed, become pearls once again after a
cleansing. My smile constantly remains straight as an arrow
and illuminating as a million candles in the dark. In the
mirror I catch a little glimmer and must look back. I then
realize it’s only the tiny silver stud placed strategically
on my right nostril. While washing my face I gaze into the
brilliant green eyes of my reflection. The color of aqua
seawater they quickly deepen to a wondrous emerald green
with the tears. I hastily swipe the salty drop traveling
down my reddened cheeks. Once I get mousse on my hands it’s
applied to the pile of straw upon my head. Within seconds
I’m headed out the door. I fly on the highway, pressed for
time. I make it into the school building, breathless and
shaking, just as the final bell tolls through the hallways.
Just a short moment later I step into my first period class
looking radiant and beaming, ready for another challenging day.




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