It was a Wednesday morning, the bitter cold was nipping at my feet as they were uncovered from the blanket. I didn’t want to get up, leave my cocoon of warmth and comfort. Though my brother had other plans for me, he violently rips the blanket away from me and says in an sonorous tone “Get up.” The unforgiving cold air rushes in and hits my body, I instantly wake up. The first thing I notice is how much pain my shoulder is in from sleeping on the floor again, I let out a long yawn and notice that I can see my own breath. At this moment I had wished that our heater worked or we had at least some insulation in the house. In a very groggy and annoyed manner I got up and preceded to get ready for school. As I made my way to the bathroom I noticed my brother had climbed back into bed, I flash him a look of envy. As I entered the bathroom the temperature became more tolerable and noticed that the room was full of steam. My dad must have just got out of the shower. As I was putting toothpaste on my toothbrush I was debating whether or not I should go to school or just skip again. Suddenly there’s loud pounding on the door. I can hear my dads voice on the other side “Hurry up fool your gunna be late for school.” I quickly wrap things up in the bathroom and change into my bleak cloths for the day. As I hastily grab my things for school I frantically look around for my English book. But with time running out I think to myself screw it I’ll borrow one from my friend and exit through the back door. Upon stepping outside into the frigid cold air I noticed my uncle sleeping outside on some car seats all wrapped up in a sleeping bag. Carelessly laying next to him is a single silver spoon, a green lighter, belt, and a pie pan. I unapologetically kick the side of a car seat and say “Uncle it’s time to wake up” and then proceed to make my way to the car were my dad is waiting for me.
But how does all of this, this Wednesday morning, tie into my reading and writing? Well this day, and many others like it, helped to realize that life is what it is. That you don’t always get the best in life and sometimes it really sucks. But this doesn’t mean one should be ashamed or embarrassed of what they’re given in life. They should just simply not care what others think nor should they try to hide themselves from the world. I have, or at least tried to, incorporate this way of thinking into my writing. I try not to worry or care about others judgments. But this doesn’t mean that I’ll outright ignore someone’s critique, if it is constructive and well placed I’ll gladly hear it out. I try to write things as they are and don’t cover up or hide facts or details that I or other people might not find appealing.
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