English Writing Dear Diary I am standing alone 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 observing me. I can’t 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 over and all beings abide by it. If you enter this place and you begin the journey deficiently, you will never be accepted 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 bitterness in them: bitterness that I felt and enjoin to the others for putting me in such a base and pitiful condition as I was in that day; or always, for that matter. Tears blinded my eyes as a reinvigorated surge of despair swept me. A muffled groan of grief arose in my throat, and my head 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 alien, 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 courage 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 desolation of yesterday was still lodged within: the thought of facing another day was abhorrent to me.
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I yearned for the day when I could leap out into the world with a beaming smile spread wide across my glowing face, prepared for what opportunities the day would offer. Regrettably, there 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 trudge 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 but 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 same 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 invoke terror, and calmly, I said “No. ” Date With my newfound sense of worth - the desire to exact some kind of revenge for being so subjugated 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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