Personal Essay

For my English 1010 class, I have to write a personal essay. Just something simple about myself, and the life lessons I've learned.

I struggle with knowing how much I should share. I don't know where to start. Well, I do, but I don't know how to start. I don't really know what I should share, because I hate being looked at differently when people find out about mom. They usually don't say anything, but the look in their eyes says it all. It's a look of pity, or perhaps it's a look of helplessness. I'm not really sure. I know they don't know what to say, which is understandable. I've heard the words "I'm Sorry" about a thousand times, and I know people are sorry. I know they feel sorry for me, and that's what I have a hard time with.  I don't want to be pitied, I just want people to understand.

I lead a different life than most people my age. That's okay with me. I'm used to it. I schedule my time around visits with mom, because no matter what, she's my priority. I really hate missing a day of seeing her, because her condition is so unpredictable that I don't know what may change from day to day. Sometimes it's hard, missing out on things, or choosing between them. I usually pick seeing mom. She deserves at least that from me.

 I picked seventeen different titles for my personal essay. One for each year I've lived. I wrote a paragraph about each, and I'm not really sure which one I want to pick. I thought about picking a couple and writing an essay for each, and then choosing which I like better, but I know they'll just end up at the same place, about the same thing. It doesn't really matter how I start it, because I know the story will morph into my story, and become the same words, just arranged in a different order. I suppose that's what writing is about.

I'll keep you posted and let you know when I figure out which essay I'm going to write. This should be interesting.

P.S. Thanks for letting me brain dump. It cleared my head so now I can do my homework! And I have a lot of homework.

Green

I've been experiencing some feelings of jealousy lately. A lot of them, actually.

I find myself being jealous because of everything that others have. Everything I once had, but was stolen from me by a disease.
I find myself jealous of other girls who have their moms through their teen years. I was fourteen when my mom got sick. I've liven through most of my teen years without the normal mom influence in my life. Sure, there are plenty of female figures in my life, but no one is like your mom. No one.

I find myself jealous because others have their moms at home and take them for granted. I would give anything to have my mom back with me at home. Every birthday, every Christmas, my wish remains one and the same. The one thing I wish for is the one thing I can't attain.

Slowly, green is becoming one of my favorite colors. I'm becoming more familiar with it, becoming more similar to it's jealous qualities.

I'm not bitter anymore. I once was, but I never will be again. I am jealous, and I suppose that with time, that will die down too.

I'm not angry, but I am upset. Sometimes, I just have a hard time. Coping is a hard thing to do when your enemy is right there, staring you in the face every day. My enemy is Primary Progressive Multiple Sclerosis. What is yours?