rewriting essay sentences

*Sally jumped from activity to activity with my brothers, keeping them endlessly entertained and paying as little attention to me as though I were invisible.*
9: Sally entertained my brothers as though I were invisible.
7: Sally entertained brothers and I was invisible.
5: Brothers entertained, I was invisible.
3: Invisible, brothers entertained.
1: Invisible.

*But it is to say that I made each and every babysitter prove themselves, not directly, but until they gained my trust and respect they had no purchase to my obedience.*
9: I made every babysitter prove themselves for my respect.
7: Every babysitter proved themselves for my respect.
5: Babysitters proved for my respect.
3: Respectful of tested.
1: Test.

*One of my greatest weaknesses is how closely I protect my affection for people; and how incredibly backward it is.*
9: My backward weakness is protecting my affection of people.
7: Weakness of protecting my affection of people.
5: I protect my people affection.
3: Protecting my affection.
1. Backward.

poems

Death

We scurry under the black hand
Some are crushed and break
Others look up and smile, unafraid
Those who live are rarely fake

Our high thoughts are pressed
Restrained, hidden, fallen, gone
In lowness we flourish, laugh and cry
Some fear the night, others die at dawn

What say we when our names are called?
Promises hang like chains, they bind
The dark we gave, the light we took
Now just a mark where the sun shined

Invisible

I’m invisible but don’t lose me

I’m not sure of the way back

I’m falling but don’t let me go

I’ll search for the things I lack

I’m invisible but don’t hurt me

With one false move I could fall

I’m crying so close in your arms

So big I’ve never felt so small

I’m invisible but don’t push me under

I’m almost out of breathe

Tied to a fate so inescapable

I’m feeling the rough lines of death

I’m invisible can’t you tell?

My color fades as the tears flow

You’ve given me the rope to hold on to

I only fear I’ve slipped too low

Essay Reflection

My essay illustrates the concept of making relationships more complicated than need be and losing at your own games. More specifically it resembles friendship when the dynamics change with age difference or position of power (such as a babysitter and child) and failing in completing the construction of your own fabricated game.

It was harder than I had originally anticipated to write about my experiences with the junior on my volleyball team last year because it forced me to realize how immaturely I handled the situation. After writing that section of my essay I actually went back and apologized to the girl.

If I could make changes to my essay it would most likely be revising some word choices to make them more interesting or appealing. I might also remove the small paragraph in the middle of my "Sally Greenwald" memory where it was my pondering over whether she would check on me again that night to see me angelically asleep mainly because I don't feel like it was my strongest writing or essential to the essay as a whole.
It was unexpected and a little fun to pour out the babysitter memory mainly because it is still vivid in my mind. But I was really surprised how easily I was able to format and write it because usually I'd struggle with processes like that.

The Tribute

Though Mirabelle hid in silence, crammed in the dark unpleasant tent, the tears could not be helped. They poured from her green eyes in waves of renewed anguish. She wept for the mess she’d somehow managed to create, all the damage that would never be repaired, the people she hurt. Chase’s face burst into her head, the expression he had worn when they’d heard the wind whispering, Mirabelle Rosaline Winters over and over again.
There was no way out. Her name had been called; no one survives when their name is called from the millions. It’s the risk one must take if they wish to pursue magic. And now Mirabelle knew it was no longer a random occurrence when a name was chosen, she had caused too much trouble for The Order to be allowed to live.
Moreover, she was sure it would not be quick. Sick images swirled menacingly in her head, all the ways they would enjoy finishing her off. She would suffer, Mirabelle took that as fact.
And again the rush of emotion took her. Tears fell until her face, hands, hair, and heart all were soaked. But they didn’t stop, salty droplets rolled from her cheeks and each time they dropped it was a small reminder that Mirabelle was still alive, still breathing, not quite dead just yet. And that’s when the idea hit her. Born from the increasing, dominating darkness settling in her mind, it called to her like the sweetest song she’d ever heard.
As though in a daze, Mirabelle searched the small tent for something, anything that might work. Her bleary eyes found the meat knife Fredrick had sliced the disgusting burnt salmon last night. It shone, piercing a deeper part of Mirabelle as she squatted, staring at it in the semi-darkness.
Her eyes closed, and she choked back rising bile, feeling around the cold dirt for the knife’s handle. A sharp pain and spreading warmth told her she’d found the blade, but as her hand closed around the smooth handle, she realized with a slight jolt that her minor injury in her right hand would mean absolutely nothing in a couple minutes.
Rather than being overwhelmingly emotional, Mirabelle felt almost nothing as she traced the dirty, but dangerously jagged knife lightly over her chest, searching for her heart. Dramatic though she knew it was, Mirabelle decided it was the best place to puncture, quick and lethal enough that if Chase or Fredrick did manage to find her shortly after, she’d be beyond saving.
But what she did not anticipate was the ripping sound that filled her ears as she’d pulled the blade away from her body, preparing to plunge it deep. The tent flap was whipping in the wind and another sound presented itself in Mirabelle’s left ear.
“You’re a coward.”
A much larger hand had grabbed the knife from her shaking hand, tearing it from her grip and throwing it to the side.
“I thought you were stronger than this, Mira.”