Post by Yoshifrog on Mar 12, 2007 16:53:39 GMT -5
For english I had to write a journal entry about what it would be like to leave america, because the people in our book are Jewish, and escaping from Russia. I have to making a touching entry in a journal to portray the seriousness of the matter.
March 12 2007
Dear Diary,
I remember seeing it coming, far off in the distance. At first, it looked rather small, far out on the horizon. It’s just like being at beach, you know? And those big old lazy waves roll slowly along in the distance. You float along in the ocean, thinking that by the time it reaches shore it will have shrunken and blended with the rest off the sea, to toss and turn, and rock you along steadily like all the others that have passed before it. You lie there, on the surface of the water, eyes closed, soaking up the sunlight. It’s calm, and relaxing. All seems well. Suddenly, the air begins to change. The scent of the ocean grows slightly stronger- you feel as if you are alone, and suddenly you jump up, eyes open wide, as you watch the monster wave towering above you, ready to cave in. And it’s at that moment, and that moment only, that you finally realize what’s going to happen. Similar to falling- that small time you spend airborne before you hit the ground, when you mind rockets off, and in a split second you know exactly what‘s going to happen. It’s like that, everything moving in slow motion.
Now that I think about it, as I watched that wave tumble down ever so slowly, I recall seeing the many reflections of memories and special moments from the past glimmer and shine right there before my eyes- and when the surface began to ripple, and crash down on me, the memories broke, and vanished into the tons of water pummeling me onto the rocky ocean bottom.
I surfaced, gasping for breath, and watching the beach slowly fading away as the strong currents tugged me further and further from where I had always been. I knew, as I floated, tired, freezing, in the middle of the ocean that things would never be the same.
America has always been my home. I never thought I’d have to leave it. It’s not one of those things you want to think about. I guess, there were hints and signs of what was going to be, like the lazy old wave on the horizon. But I really didn’t want to accept it- especially when the chances were minimal.
When the time came where the wave hit, it was more a wake-up-call from reality then anything else. It was no surprise, but it was a disappointment.
My family knew that taking all our pets was no option. Traveling light was the key, and two cats who have never set foot outdoors, and two obnoxious attention-craving dogs weren’t an option either. The trip would be hard on them too. Those creatures are a major part of my life, and leaving them to someone else will be devastating. I will not risk my family’s safety though, not for any benefit of my own. When a family is to deal with something as serious as this, there is no more you and only us.
I feel rather dazed. It’s all such a shock, I’m just trying to set aside my fears. I’m trying not to think about anything, anything but the necessaries. I have packed up an item to carry with me along the way. It was quite the choice, deciding between the things that were special to me. A laptop would be useful, but not for a trip such as this, where computers may carry the information to track us down. No, more of an item that holds memories would be good for me. I don’t care about entertainment right now. I care only about knowing that I will not forget the life I left behind. So, I have decided to take my old purple portfolio. In it holds drawings me and my family have made, some over ten years old. Within it is also my diary I kept from when I was five, to a ways into first grade. I often set aside an hour to look through these two things. I often get myself close to crying with the thought that the past is so far behind, and I can never get it back. This trip I take will touch my heart like this, but even more, because the past will be so far away that I won’t even be able to imagine what it was like. I want so badly to remember. That’s all I want, is too remember.
I spent most of the day talking to God. Just chatting. Unlike people, he can give you the cold hard truth and make it sound like heaven itself. God has a special way of words, I think. He has that silent voice that can be heard from miles away, and that hidden smile that even the darkest souls can see. He is always there to lend a helping hand. He’s been helping me pull through better than anyone.
I have also spent a lot of time sitting outside on the deck, staring out into the woods below. I imagine us trekking out into them, bags on our backs, silent as death, heading North off to Canada-anywhere. I had no idea. But thinking about it gave me the chills.
Later
The sky is grey today. So is everyone’s faces, and their eyes as well. They’re kind of a misty color, really. No one talks anymore. I know that to escape, talking is vital, but you have no idea what talking is like when you know that whatever you say will linger in these walls forever with no one but us to hear them. It’s like a sick curse, plaguing the house with the feeling that we no longer belong.
I realize I am no longer a part of anything anymore. I am detached. I watch the bustling of the neighborhood from the car window, knowing that these people are so different from me. They have become strangers, aliens on the street. I know that these are the people I am leaving behind, and I kind of feel invisible amongst them, like an ant. I know that they have trouble seeing me, but that when they do, just a lift of their shoe and I’m a goner.
Yet, putting aside the grimness of this sad departure, I try to acknowledge its beauty. I am no longer safe, and to keep myself out of harm’s way, the trip must be made. So I embrace its glory, for I know this is my chance to finally be free. Or, so I think. Sometimes I feel as if I’d rather sacrifice my freedom that give up this life I’ve lived for so long. It’s like dropping straight from heaven, down, down, down towards hell, and not even imagining what it will be like.
I hate to stop writing, but the family knows that we need to be early to bed, as to keep us from tiring on the long trip. Mom’s yelling for us to turn out the light.
So I leave you with these words-
Goodbye America, I’ll tell you what hell’s like.
March 12 2007
Dear Diary,
I remember seeing it coming, far off in the distance. At first, it looked rather small, far out on the horizon. It’s just like being at beach, you know? And those big old lazy waves roll slowly along in the distance. You float along in the ocean, thinking that by the time it reaches shore it will have shrunken and blended with the rest off the sea, to toss and turn, and rock you along steadily like all the others that have passed before it. You lie there, on the surface of the water, eyes closed, soaking up the sunlight. It’s calm, and relaxing. All seems well. Suddenly, the air begins to change. The scent of the ocean grows slightly stronger- you feel as if you are alone, and suddenly you jump up, eyes open wide, as you watch the monster wave towering above you, ready to cave in. And it’s at that moment, and that moment only, that you finally realize what’s going to happen. Similar to falling- that small time you spend airborne before you hit the ground, when you mind rockets off, and in a split second you know exactly what‘s going to happen. It’s like that, everything moving in slow motion.
Now that I think about it, as I watched that wave tumble down ever so slowly, I recall seeing the many reflections of memories and special moments from the past glimmer and shine right there before my eyes- and when the surface began to ripple, and crash down on me, the memories broke, and vanished into the tons of water pummeling me onto the rocky ocean bottom.
I surfaced, gasping for breath, and watching the beach slowly fading away as the strong currents tugged me further and further from where I had always been. I knew, as I floated, tired, freezing, in the middle of the ocean that things would never be the same.
America has always been my home. I never thought I’d have to leave it. It’s not one of those things you want to think about. I guess, there were hints and signs of what was going to be, like the lazy old wave on the horizon. But I really didn’t want to accept it- especially when the chances were minimal.
When the time came where the wave hit, it was more a wake-up-call from reality then anything else. It was no surprise, but it was a disappointment.
My family knew that taking all our pets was no option. Traveling light was the key, and two cats who have never set foot outdoors, and two obnoxious attention-craving dogs weren’t an option either. The trip would be hard on them too. Those creatures are a major part of my life, and leaving them to someone else will be devastating. I will not risk my family’s safety though, not for any benefit of my own. When a family is to deal with something as serious as this, there is no more you and only us.
I feel rather dazed. It’s all such a shock, I’m just trying to set aside my fears. I’m trying not to think about anything, anything but the necessaries. I have packed up an item to carry with me along the way. It was quite the choice, deciding between the things that were special to me. A laptop would be useful, but not for a trip such as this, where computers may carry the information to track us down. No, more of an item that holds memories would be good for me. I don’t care about entertainment right now. I care only about knowing that I will not forget the life I left behind. So, I have decided to take my old purple portfolio. In it holds drawings me and my family have made, some over ten years old. Within it is also my diary I kept from when I was five, to a ways into first grade. I often set aside an hour to look through these two things. I often get myself close to crying with the thought that the past is so far behind, and I can never get it back. This trip I take will touch my heart like this, but even more, because the past will be so far away that I won’t even be able to imagine what it was like. I want so badly to remember. That’s all I want, is too remember.
I spent most of the day talking to God. Just chatting. Unlike people, he can give you the cold hard truth and make it sound like heaven itself. God has a special way of words, I think. He has that silent voice that can be heard from miles away, and that hidden smile that even the darkest souls can see. He is always there to lend a helping hand. He’s been helping me pull through better than anyone.
I have also spent a lot of time sitting outside on the deck, staring out into the woods below. I imagine us trekking out into them, bags on our backs, silent as death, heading North off to Canada-anywhere. I had no idea. But thinking about it gave me the chills.
Later
The sky is grey today. So is everyone’s faces, and their eyes as well. They’re kind of a misty color, really. No one talks anymore. I know that to escape, talking is vital, but you have no idea what talking is like when you know that whatever you say will linger in these walls forever with no one but us to hear them. It’s like a sick curse, plaguing the house with the feeling that we no longer belong.
I realize I am no longer a part of anything anymore. I am detached. I watch the bustling of the neighborhood from the car window, knowing that these people are so different from me. They have become strangers, aliens on the street. I know that these are the people I am leaving behind, and I kind of feel invisible amongst them, like an ant. I know that they have trouble seeing me, but that when they do, just a lift of their shoe and I’m a goner.
Yet, putting aside the grimness of this sad departure, I try to acknowledge its beauty. I am no longer safe, and to keep myself out of harm’s way, the trip must be made. So I embrace its glory, for I know this is my chance to finally be free. Or, so I think. Sometimes I feel as if I’d rather sacrifice my freedom that give up this life I’ve lived for so long. It’s like dropping straight from heaven, down, down, down towards hell, and not even imagining what it will be like.
I hate to stop writing, but the family knows that we need to be early to bed, as to keep us from tiring on the long trip. Mom’s yelling for us to turn out the light.
So I leave you with these words-
Goodbye America, I’ll tell you what hell’s like.