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propaganda.net : Skole & Jobb
The little dark roomSkriv ut Utskrift
Fikk de første tre linjene utdelt, måtte fortsette historien. Engelskstil i 10. klasse.
Engelsk - EssayForfatter:



This was it. There was no going back now. All of a sudden I felt some doubt in my mind, - did I really want to do this? Well, I had to do it. I could not disappoint all the people that had turned up to watch. I should have thought of it before, though I knew it wouldn’t have changed my current situation. I am simply one of those people who are meant to hurt themselves because of some desperate cry for attention, the right kind of attention.

 

That type of respectful attention, when people notice you because they look up to you, admire you, want to be with you, and take interest in you with nothing else but a positive attitude. I usually get noticed, but then only in twisted humiliating ways, as if I am the closest thing to nothing, only there so those who want can bring me further back in fear of me ever becoming something. Things however felt different now. This was my chance to become like them. Few people choose to be different, most are forced to, and those who are have twisted minds like mine, minds who constantly obligate us to obey and follow, till our chance once appears in front of us. The chance to be seen.

 

On any emotional level this chance was hard to grab and use, but feelings of empathy felt distant as something you simply can’t see, though they always lurk in the back of your mind, in a small space that is far too easy to lock up and ignore when you most need it. His distant gaze towards me was an energy that almost made me remember about it and open it, but other peoples glares were frightening, and selfishly pushed away all else except from what they wanted me to do. What I had to do, because that was me.

 

I closed up to him while he still stared at me. His eyes were now driving me insane, I came to the point where I almost gave in to them. The way they told me he didn’t care, that he was treated this way every single day, all those things making me want to back up more then if he had started to defend himself.

Why couldn’t he just do that? Why couldn’t he just insult me, provoke me, grin, or simply push me away?

 

Everyone would obviously always treat him in this cold manner. That is what happens to people who always glare at something or stare at the ground, that is what happens to people who have scared looks and barely talk, that is what happens to people who have emptiness all around them. Emptiness nobody wants to step inside off, in fear of being consumed by it. It was obviously his own fault that everyone simply liked to bully him. Yes, that was it. You can’t expect to be left alone when you don’t do anything to achieve it.

 

I did something to achieve it, I was doing it right now. I was pushing him towards the ground, and he just fell. He didn’t even bother trying to get away or making me back off.

 

The crowd around me cheered, though some people were silently following everything with concerned expressions in their eyes. Those kind of people are the worst. They understand everything, they are intelligent and know where the fine line between right and wrong goes. Any one of them could have stopped this, unlike the rest who simply didn’t get it. They didn’t get that this was real. As long as they are amused everything else in their private little world seems unimportant. I suddenly hated those who seemed worried, why couldn’t they just do anything? They never did anything, and I just had to do what I was told to. All of this rushed through my mind as my fist made contact with his skin in powerful speed.

“I just had to do what I was told to”.

That was such a pathetic excuse. Especially when thought in connection with wanting someone to stop all this. My behavior was making me sick as I watched him stand up, as if nothing had happened.

 

I am now the person standing above someone. Standing above the weak while the strong are covering my back. As if it needs to be cowered from anything else then themselves. I am the person who gets noticed by the people who from now on will stand up for me. Stand up for me when who brings me down? The guy who now was staring at the ground? The only ones who ever pushed me back was them. The people who now would let me have fun and hang out with them. Fun in the way that I didn’t have to worry about ending up like him. I am the person who is able to think like this, because of this dark room in the back of my mind where I can lock everything I don’t like in. I am the person who now is happy because someone has got my back, who gets noticed, who won’t be humiliated, who won’t end up on the ground, and who has hidden the key to my secret far, far away.




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