Okay guys so I need some tips on the start of this creative. I pretty much suck at English so be brutal please!! Also note that I havent finished or actually completely decided where the story is actually going yet.... tips would be greatly appreciated!
I spend my day sitting across from numerous different people from all walks of life, telling me about their adventures and their sadness’s. Not one of their lives has been easy; otherwise they wouldn’t be coming to me. They’ve all had many journeys to talk about, which shaped their identities and personalities, becoming who they are. I don’t feel like I have had any adventures to live by, you see, my life has been easy so far. Nothing has really happened to me. It’s like if I were a sail boat, I’ve never encountered any waves, I’ve always drifted peacefully in the wind in a straight line. Moving, but going nowhere at the same time. Anyone would think that you would be happy, but their wrong. It’s like losing all hope for everything when you’re not headed towards anything. You don’t feel sad; it’s not a sadness that you feel and you don’t cry. It is more of a hollowness that surrounds you, an emptiness preventing you from feeling and any emotion. I had never experienced anything amazing before, and I needed to, I longed for something to feel. I got into this profession to try and help people put their lives back together, while all the while my life is vanishing. It is the human condition to try and help the people around you, but when does it go too far? When is the point that you need to heal yourself again after putting yourself last for so many years? For me, it’s now. Escaping. It’s now the word that I will use for what I’m going to doing, and it’s true, I’m escaping. How sad, that a person must escape from the life that they know, to try and find themselves again, experience something that can make them feel like they fit in in their own skin.
I landed three days later. You know that the place you have landed is small when you have to leave the plane by climbing down the stairs directly onto the runway. On the plane was the other people from my group, others similar to me who were searching for something more. The first thing that our instructor told us to do was find somewhere to sit around the runway alone to simply look, and feel. I picked somewhere under a tree, bits of sun moving as the light breeze moved the tree slowly. I sat cross legged, taking in my surroundings. There was dirt, lots of it. In the distance a little shack revealed itself, with many little faces popping out from the windows every now and then. They were children. I was shocked that anyone could live out here. There were only small amounts of grass around some of the front of the shacks. The shacks had tin roofs, with bits of rust running along the edges. Looking closer, the walls of the shacks were made from joining any bits of metal and wood that could be found and stuck together, making what seemed to be what they called their home. What astounded me the most was that among the desert and sea of dead trees and brown grass, the people seemed to be happy. They had what anyone would barely call a roof over their head but yet they were happier than me, happier than all the other people in my group with me. One single tear rushed down my flushed cheek as I wiped my hand to clear it away. These people’s lives were so full, while they had so little. Looking around at the rest of the people in my group some had tears rushing down their faces and others smilingly at the fact that these people from the shacks were contempt.
I spend my day sitting across from numerous different people from all walks of life, telling me about their adventures and their sadness’s. Not one of their lives has been easy; otherwise they wouldn’t be coming to me. They’ve all had many journeys to talk about, which shaped their identities and personalities, becoming who they are. I don’t feel like I have had any adventures to live by, you see, my life has been easy so far. Nothing has really happened to me. It’s like if I were a sail boat, I’ve never encountered any waves, I’ve always drifted peacefully in the wind in a straight line. Moving, but going nowhere at the same time. Anyone would think that you would be happy, but their wrong. It’s like losing all hope for everything when you’re not headed towards anything. You don’t feel sad; it’s not a sadness that you feel and you don’t cry. It is more of a hollowness that surrounds you, an emptiness preventing you from feeling and any emotion. I had never experienced anything amazing before, and I needed to, I longed for something to feel. I got into this profession to try and help people put their lives back together, while all the while my life is vanishing. It is the human condition to try and help the people around you, but when does it go too far? When is the point that you need to heal yourself again after putting yourself last for so many years? For me, it’s now. Escaping. It’s now the word that I will use for what I’m going to doing, and it’s true, I’m escaping. How sad, that a person must escape from the life that they know, to try and find themselves again, experience something that can make them feel like they fit in in their own skin.
I landed three days later. You know that the place you have landed is small when you have to leave the plane by climbing down the stairs directly onto the runway. On the plane was the other people from my group, others similar to me who were searching for something more. The first thing that our instructor told us to do was find somewhere to sit around the runway alone to simply look, and feel. I picked somewhere under a tree, bits of sun moving as the light breeze moved the tree slowly. I sat cross legged, taking in my surroundings. There was dirt, lots of it. In the distance a little shack revealed itself, with many little faces popping out from the windows every now and then. They were children. I was shocked that anyone could live out here. There were only small amounts of grass around some of the front of the shacks. The shacks had tin roofs, with bits of rust running along the edges. Looking closer, the walls of the shacks were made from joining any bits of metal and wood that could be found and stuck together, making what seemed to be what they called their home. What astounded me the most was that among the desert and sea of dead trees and brown grass, the people seemed to be happy. They had what anyone would barely call a roof over their head but yet they were happier than me, happier than all the other people in my group with me. One single tear rushed down my flushed cheek as I wiped my hand to clear it away. These people’s lives were so full, while they had so little. Looking around at the rest of the people in my group some had tears rushing down their faces and others smilingly at the fact that these people from the shacks were contempt.
