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Random First Lines:Break Up Letter: Maybe this would be my final message to you so Iâ€™m telling you everything as much as I remember . » Read
By Wily Geist
Names of things don't tell the whole story. Proper definition of simple things done for the edification of the public.
Essay | Updated Dec 19, 2014 | Reads: 40 | Comments: 1 | Likes: 1
This essay I wrote was personal but yet at the same time public. I believe everyone has their own creative energy reserve that if they just tap into it, anything is possible.
By Anna Grettle
Revisiting memories. A description of someplace important to me.
An essay about the life, legacy, and impact of my younger brother
I had to write a report for art class in school. It's about Jasper Johns' painting "According to What."
By Garrett Monroe
Historical economic research regarding the origin of prosperity in modern world economics, and how big history affects today's political economic state. This was an old college capstone project of mine that I found and enjoy. My professor said it was an incredibly intriguing research essay, but...
Creative non-fiction essay, Revised from one previously handed in to a professor.
A short essay on listening to the voices in your head as it relates to writing.
Essay | Updated Nov 12, 2014 | Reads: 9 | Comments: 1 | Likes: 0
An essay about my personal experiences with racism. The use of African American as a designator of race and not point of origin. The fact that we are essentially all Africans, having all originated from Africa. How we should abandon African American as a designation of race for Black people,...
Why I write, and why you should write too. The implications of writing and more.
By Delirious Comet
As the title says, this is a short essay about how to dispose of a dead body. (this is a completely fake essay. I have not killed anyone nor have I ever disposed of a body)
Essay | Updated Nov 8, 2014 | Reads: 25 | Comments: 0 | Likes: 0
She was a thousand contradictions. She was sociable, yet detached; fiery yet passive. She was chaotic as a hurricane, and as gentle as a pond. Her beauty wasn't in her physical appearance, but in her soul. She was art to the eye. She made you feel something you never thought you could. In all...
My first essay; my thoughts about Franz Joseph (1830-1916) and his mother, Sophie (1805-1872).
Essay | Updated Nov 6, 2014 | Reads: 6 | Comments: 0 | Likes: 0