Creative writing: Achievement standard 2.4 Title: Insanity Statement of intent: This piece was influenced by my feelings and thoughts on mental illness and how society deals with it. The piece itself is a metaphor of looking beyond a person’s appearance and what they are truly dealing with inside. I have experienced the effects of a mental illness and how it effects your daily routine. The perspective is a doctor who is working with a mentally sick patient and has to tell her she is making no progress
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A slight breeze blew throughout the dandy forest‚ swaying the stiff lifeless trees and blowing the black stained leaves across my bare white feet. As I stumbled across the dead landscape‚ a slight fog swam around blending in with the increasingly falling snow. Hundreds of dark wood surrounding me seemed to slowly cave in‚ creating a narrow cave-like passage. An eerie feeling swept over me‚ and I stopped completely‚ analysing every detail around me. The smog became thicker‚ blinding the scenery and
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But sometimes‚ I feel like my brother should’ve gotten my name. His name is Carson‚ which my parents chose from a map of the counties in Texas. He inherited my father’s love of computers‚ while I got the geographic gene‚ so sometimes I feel like we should reverse our names‚ that I should get the geographic name and he should inherit my father’s name
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The Glare As I approached the empty table to make my case in front of the judge I suddenly felt like I had been kicked in the stomach. Was this a mistake? Should I have just taken the points on my license and called it good? Maybe I really was just a “reckless driver‚” I’m sure there are many people out there who would call me a reckless person in general. I was accurately dubbed with the nickname “Crash” in high school‚ not too many years earlier. I felt my fight or flight response kick in and
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house with pure madness. My parents step out of the house‚ and take their big argument outside. I walked over to the window and watched their lousy arguing. It always ends up in the same place. One either gets kicked out of the house or someone leaves and doesn’t come back till a few days later. I was lying down on my lonely bed‚ looking at the ceiling fan go round and round. I was surrounded by the thin‚ white walls and the sounds of bickering outside by my parents. I breathed in and breathed out
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Descriptive Writing – The forest. [pic] A crisp winter morning and there was a frosty chill in the air. A sweet surrendering scent of the moist morning dew that cascades all around the sublime forest. The mixed cool autumn leaves from the tall trees lay scattered on the forest floor; they were in the motion of turning a brittle brown. There was the sound of shattered glass that emphasised the leaves being crunched‚ as if you were to step on them‚ pushing their papery remains deep into the
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I never thought I would ever be in this predicament. I never thought that my own mother would kick me out of my home‚ my home where my mum raised me and feed me for 16 years‚ where she used to call my name sweetly‚ Joshua. Well‚ I have thought about it before. It was the main threat my stepdad‚ Doug used against me whenever I pissed him off. And I pissed him off every day. Maybe I was better off on the streets away from him; well that’s what I like to think. I turned back and gave my old home one
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Creative Writing Tips 1. What ideas about Identity are you going to convey in your creative? First of all‚ let’s start with thinking about Identity ideas‚ rather than the creative piece itself. You should choose 2-3 ideas that you think you want to write about or that you find the most interesting. If you’re unsure about what ideas about Identity there are – just think about the ones in your essay! It could be things like: •Belonging and identity: belonging gives us a sense of identity. •Identity
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I lean forward‚ the tips of my fingers on the track‚ back foot at a ninety degree angle from the ground. My eyes dart towards the tree about a hundred metres away from where I am. Dad blows the whistle; a high-pitched squeal that echoes throughout the isolated park. I push my whole body forward with my back foot‚ and I’m at seventy percent of my full speed for the first sixty metres. The brown grass beneath me is soft and I’ve reached sixty metres now‚ and the once hidden beast inside me has
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The pyshcologist wasn’t certain to expect what type of Emily Harris would walk through the door. His practice usually consisted of adults‚ and he was practically experienced‚ with the teenage mind‚ particuarly since he and his wife‚ Grace.‚ had put aside plans to have children of their own‚ to forge ahead with their careers. Enough to make him one of the most prominent psychologists in the city‚ and her‚ a senior marketing executive for an international publishing company‚ a position her Father‚
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