The Perfect Friend

Pillow, friend, constant companion! It brings joy into life. Even in its sad, misshapen state, it comforts the soul. The rugged form, covered by a faded pillowcase, equals an impeccable resting place for a head. Its flush fabric caresses the face while the feathery softness cradles the skull. The musky yet clean smell, the one fallen asleep to every night, perfects the scene. The cover rustles softly as movement occurs in sleep. In the morning upon awakening, the flowing stripes are the first thing seen. The happiness this small act gives cannot be conveyed in words alone.

            This pillow is the only one for me. Every trip taken, it, and no other, comes along. It makes the perfect psychiatrist, taking on my anger and tears without a word or complaint. It comforts when I feel sad, listens when I need to talk. Better than any stuffed animal, it actually serves a purpose. The whole meaning and point of this pillow’s existence is to comfort me in my sleep. As I look at it, resting on my bed, I realize how hard it would truly be to live without my best friend.

You As A Writer: A Case-Study Assignment

The first story I ever wrote was about a cute baby unicorn. I didn’t actually write it though, I just drew pictures because I didn’t know how to write yet. Later, I made up my own songs, but with the same problem.




The first real writing I remember was when I was in second grade. We had these cute little booklets that we wrote stories in every day. Again, my favorite one I wrote was about a little unicorn with no horn. I actually plagiarized this one from my favorite book, but that was back when I didn’t know what plagiarism was.


After second grade, I didn’t have to do any serious writing until I was in fifth grade. I had gotten in trouble for not listening to the teacher when she was reading a book to the class, and she made me write a thousand word essay. To my young, fifth-grader mind, a thousand words seem like the worst punishment one could bestow on a kid. What was worse, the teacher was my aunt, and I couldn’t understand how she could do that to me! After that experience, I paid attention. From then on, I viewed writing as a punishment given by teachers to make students suffer. Up until junior high, that is. That’s when I met my friend Ashley, who absolutely LOVES to write. She let me read some of her stories, and they were really good. I got a couple ideas from her, and figured that it wouldn't hurt to write them down. I built off of those stories, but never actually finished them. Currently they’re collecting dust on my computer.


After that I realized that writing really wasn’t all that bad. Who would have thought? A thousand words? That was nothing.


Then came Mrs. Card’s research paper. Learning how to write a five-paragraph essay made me start thinking back to the whole torture thing. But as I finished up, I discovered that even research papers aren’t that hard, as long as you get enough information.


That thought stuck with me through Mrs. Wakefield’s class as well. I thought I was doing pretty well, up until the UBSCT essay. At that point I was absolutely sure that I was doomed to fail the test and have to live on the streets as a hobo, sleeping on park benches and begging for food. Surprisingly, (for me at least) I passed! I figured I’d graduate after all. No sleeping on park benches for me!


So for now at least, I kind of like writing. That will all change in college I guess, but right now I’ll enjoy it while the easy stuff lasts. That’s not saying that I want to go and write more papers though, not if I can get out of it. I’d like to stick to writing in my journal and giving notes to my friends, thank you very much.