Personal Narrative I am a daydreamer Essay

781 Words 4 Pages
I am Just Another Daydreamer

I am a dreamer, and am always in deep thought. Everything that goes on in my life and all that goes on around me is played and replayed repeatedly in my head. I think about why things happen, and imagine what might happen in the future. I think about how things could have been and about how things can be. When I was asked where I see myself in three years, immediately an entire scenario played in my head. I imagined myself going to school, living on my own, preparing to own my own boutique, and just being that typical college student. The entire setting changes constantly but my goals tend to stay the same.
The incessant buzzing makes me roll over and slap the alarm clock: 12:00, time to go to class. I
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I walk out the door and down the steps onto the courtyard. I look around and see the beautiful greenery that surrounds me. I continue walking down Fullerton, watching and listening to the hustle and bustle of the traffic beside me. I walk into the building and after scouring the place for my classroom and have a seat. After attending so many years of school, I have mastered sleeping with my eyes open. I practice this skill in one of my business management classes. I wake up just in time to write down my homework assignment, and scoot on out of there. Thank goodness I only took one class on Fridays, another one would be the death of me. I stroll back to my dorm and to my roommate watching TV. I join her on the rickety futon with a bowl of Easy-Mac and surrender myself to an hour before I feel my brain turn to mush. I drag her out of the dorm, and we journey down Halsted. There is something about the atmosphere that I become overcome by emotion, utter happiness. It is like my sanctuary, countless stores, and innumerable amounts of people. We walk up and down, passing Barney?s New York, Fox?s, Betsey Johnson?s, and many others that never fail to grab my attention. The sun starts to set, and we head back to our dorm. Steam from the curling irons, and straitening irons fill our entire residence and the smell of hair spray and perfume sweep through the open door and out into the hall.

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