Since my birth, my curiosity of Waylon Pallidum has been insatiable. Waylon is not a part of our family, but he has been practically adopted. The long story short about Waylon, and this will confuse you - he has been alive for centuries, and he will never die. No, that is not a metaphor, this is not a poem. Waylon is not a prized possession that has esteemed a title worth personifying. Waylon is not a creative way I’ve decided to express my mind’s ability. Waylon is a human, a person who has literally been living centuries that will live, undoubtedly, forever. Err, no, he isn’t really a person, either… This is confusing me now, too. Oh well, you’ll get it soon.
Now that I look back on myself, I can really realize that I was utterly a stupid …show more content…
In a mpderately worthless, crumbling half-school, half-church of thirty-three students, the eighth-grade (graduating class) consisted of six students, excluding me. They were all just awful. They were terrible children with terrible attitudes and all dumb as a pile of rocks. The teacher was absent minded of genuine interest of the class. He couldn’t care less who had paid attention, completed the homework, or read the assigned chapters of the bible. However, among these careless children and this useless teacher, there was one boy who I grew fond of. His name was Alexander Meyer, he was young man with blonde hair that grew awkward tans/freckles/burns when May came. He was a bit over 5’7 and was of slim figure. He hated his name, and so did I, but I would never admit that to him. He was able to make me laugh everyday, even though it was discouraged in a place of business like a school or church. He was also an empathetic soul, who connected with everyone in our class much more efficiently than I had. He would never rank his relationships, but I always saw him as my best friend, and although his respectful lack of positioning was impermeable, I was always confident that he felt the same for me.
He was in fact the only one I would identify as a friend. My sisters were absolutely apathetic of my life. I was as large as a grain as rice in their eyes, and half as flavorful. I was a mule in the eyes of the parent figures in my life. I never found any necessity in becoming a child to be proud of. From a young age, I found my heritage, current state of mind, and future to come
Now that I look back on myself, I can really realize that I was utterly a stupid …show more content…
In a mpderately worthless, crumbling half-school, half-church of thirty-three students, the eighth-grade (graduating class) consisted of six students, excluding me. They were all just awful. They were terrible children with terrible attitudes and all dumb as a pile of rocks. The teacher was absent minded of genuine interest of the class. He couldn’t care less who had paid attention, completed the homework, or read the assigned chapters of the bible. However, among these careless children and this useless teacher, there was one boy who I grew fond of. His name was Alexander Meyer, he was young man with blonde hair that grew awkward tans/freckles/burns when May came. He was a bit over 5’7 and was of slim figure. He hated his name, and so did I, but I would never admit that to him. He was able to make me laugh everyday, even though it was discouraged in a place of business like a school or church. He was also an empathetic soul, who connected with everyone in our class much more efficiently than I had. He would never rank his relationships, but I always saw him as my best friend, and although his respectful lack of positioning was impermeable, I was always confident that he felt the same for me.
He was in fact the only one I would identify as a friend. My sisters were absolutely apathetic of my life. I was as large as a grain as rice in their eyes, and half as flavorful. I was a mule in the eyes of the parent figures in my life. I never found any necessity in becoming a child to be proud of. From a young age, I found my heritage, current state of mind, and future to come