long day..

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Young Adult  |  House: Booksie Classic
long day

Submitted: February 22, 2011

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Submitted: February 22, 2011

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After a terribly long ride home from Phoenix, in my father’s faded rusty red beat up twenty one year old truck, the blazing rays of the sun began to slightly diminish. My mother’s hands gripped tightly on the black leather steering wheel, attempting to remain emotionally strong; althoughI had already observed the tears gracefully dancing down her pale skinned cheek, which were deriving out of her crystal like blue eyes. There are some things in life that people don't want to accept because the truth sometimes hurts. Such as, being told that a loved one has tragically passed away. My father decides that we should get out of the house for a while, so I jump into the back seat of the car, angrily slamming the door I jam my thumb. Realizing the pain after a few minutes, I also realize the bruise already forming. The busy streets tick off my father while searching for a restaurant to dine at, since it is past dinnertime this becomes a frustration with the engrossed city streets. We walk into the Italian restaurant and are greeted by a young man. There is this silence that I percept within my mind as we wait as we wait for the tall brown haired waiter to arrive to the table, which is in the corner of the maze-like dining room. I can feel my heart just ache and hear my stomach growl. We practically eat in silence, since we are in shock; I can hear the metal knife scratch the pale white plate filled with noodles and marinara sauce. Life never seems to be predicable, like the fairytale endings are in books that were read in kindergarten. Then I finally come to a realization on what I just recently heard from my mother on the way home from Phoenix, a relative of mine was rapped then brutally murdered by several drunken men. I burst out into complete anger and race out of the restaurant with what felt like the entire restaurant starring me down. I am so angry that I can’t sit down on one of the many benches, so instead I begin to pace the front entrance of the enormous Italian restaurant. Then, a few seconds later my mother comes outside and asks me if I want to talk and I just completely ignore her, I could barely breathe as I was in this state of mind. I have never felt this angry in my entire life. Taking in what had happened to my relative hit me hard; the pain in my heart makes me cry myself to sleep at four in the morning.


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