Sunday, May 26, 2019

English Essay Creative Writing – Bullying

English Writing Dear Diary I am standing unaccompanied in a lake. The water is still, and there is no one with me nothing containing any life and yet I still feel like something is spy me. I cant hear anything or see through the thick blanket of fog that carries an air of melancholy across the marsh. I am standing alone in a lake. Until I open my eyes. Tranquillity leaves me and I am transported to a place where there is no adequation where hierarchy takes all over and all beings abide by it. If you enter this place and you begin the journey deficiently, you will never be get hold ofed into this complex community they call school.Date I gasped for air between sobs. Tears from my wide, moistened eyes streamed unchecked down my pale cheeks. The tears tasted brackish to my lips, with a meaning tint of acerbity in them bitterness that I felt and enjoin to the differents for putting me in such a base and pitiful condition as I was in that day or always, for that matter. Tears blind ed my eyes as a reinvigorated surge of despair swept me. A muffled groan of grief arose in my throat, and my pass throbbed with pain. But I kept silent, because I had learned to do so now.The way I have learnt to adjust to my surroundings in this unknown, hostile school, and had learnt to accept countless jeers and merciless teasing from the people around me. I sat staring deeply at the engraved graffiti, each letter giving a fierce image. Must die. They had warned it was going to be bad, although I never expected this. I never was a strong person. If only I had the bravery to stand up and stop this. Date My spirit broke with the dawn. I opened my eyes to a new day full of potential nonetheless, the nakedness of yesterday was still lodged within the thought of facing another day was abhorrent to me.I yearned for the day when I could leap out into the world with a beamy smile spread wide across my glowing face, prepared for what opportunities the day would offer. Regrettably, th ere would be no such energy for me today, or any other day for that matter. This day, just as any other, I tore myself away from the only place on earth I could feel marginally safe, to wander to the haunt of my tormentors. I knew without a single doubt that there was not even a semblance of the most miniscule of smiles on my face plainly that I did, in fact, bear the dejected expression of a prisoner as he ambles towards the gallows.Scuttling innocently through the twisting corridors I bore the kindred expression head down, shoulders hunched, avoiding any eye contact my desperate attempts to deter the despot for one day at least. Despite my efforts, there was no escape, as seemingly within the second of having that naively optimistic thought, a cruel, callous voice demanded I surrender my broach. Fear spiked, as it always did, but with it came something else, an alien emotion Looking back now, I see that it must have been the cumulative effect of months of torment that brought me to the realisation that at this point I had reached the nadir of my life.Deriding cackles pierced my ears and this time I recognised the emotion, fury. It burned through my veins, along with the memories of the past to form a feeling of overwhelming power. I met the daggers that would usually cite terror, and calmly, I said No. Date With my newfound sense of worth the desire to exact some kind of revenge for being so subjugate was inexplicably tempting. Though some say that by forgiving we become virtuous, was it not Shakespeare himself who said, If you wrong us, shall we not revenge?

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