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I have seen and endured many things in my lifetime. I have experienced
intense pain as well as extreme pleasure. I know sorrow and I know bliss; to
be overcome with extreme emotions is a constant problem of mine. I was
originally going to write my essay on my departure from my childhood home,
but due to recent events, I have changed my essay topic. I was just recently
a participant in a huge argument between my mother and me, one of the worst
we have ever had. We fought over meaningless subjects and verbally, as well
as physically, attacked each other. Although the content of our argument is
not really appropriate for my first essay in my Expository Literature class,
at ** high school, I feel that it will suffice, and most likely be perfect
for the subject matter.
Three nights ago (August 31, 1998), I came home from an exhausting
day at school, my back aching from carrying over fifty pounds worth of books
and my head pounding due to the lack of ventilation in a few of my
classrooms. Due to these circumstances, I was not in this best of moods, I
was stressed and in desperate need of coffee. My mother, too, was not in the
best of moods, she was also extremely stressed and upset for various
reasons. We argued over the dishes, we argued over vacuuming, we argued over
the dogs; and finally we had our last argument of the evening. I was leaving
to take my two dogs for their walk, when my phone rang, it was my friend
Sarah, we we're having a very brief conversation that was about to end when
my mother unfortunately interrupted it. She came downstairs demanding that
I take the dogs out immediately, I responded somewhat rudely and told her to
wait because I was on the phone. She proceeded to come towards me and tried
to physically remove the phone from my grasps. She failed, but during the
struggle we fought physically and she used many obscenities.
When I got up, I started yelling at her. I asked, "Why?" over and
over again, each time louder and louder, until finally I was screaming as
loud as she had been, if not louder. I angrily questioned her actions,
demanding to hear her attempt on a reasonable explanation. She, of course,
did not have one. I was crying hysterically at this point, and I was
insisting that she leave my room. She refused and I shoved her out and locked
my door. She pounded on the door for a few minutes, but my sobbing kept me
from paying any attention to her. I was collapsed on the floor, crying,
confused and practically delirious. I couldn't understand what had happened
in those last few minutes, it was a complete blur to me. My phone started to
ring again, I let it rang once all the way through, twice, and then on the
third call I picked up the receiver. My friend had unfortunately overheard
the entire conversation, including the events that had occurred. Sarah was
insistent on coming over, but since I was still very confused, I hung up the
phone.
I realized that I needed to get out of my house. I started packing
up certain necessities, such as my books and clothing for the following day,
and stuffed everything into my backpack. As one last tear dripped down my
cheek I looked around my room, it was in complete chaos. My freshly cleaned
laundry was strewn all over the floor and the basket was on its side. My
jewelry was torn off its hanging place and most of it was broken, the
tapestry hanging above my bed was torn down and my computer key board lay on
the floor.
My phone rang again, it was Sarah, she told me she we coming over to
get me. I agreed and said that I would meet her at the bottom of the hill. I
took one last look at my room and then turned off all the lights. I walked
out the door and locked it so that my parents would think I was sleeping. I
crept past my mother's office, through the front hall, and out the front
door. I locked the big black gate, put on my sunglasses, and left. I did
not look back, I did not shed another tear. I have departed, and I haven't
been home since.
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