This probably doesn't make any sense right now, but I will try to enlighten you in the words which I have left.
I never knew my sister, nonetheless, I have always loved her. I was barely 1 year of age when she died.
Being as young as I was, I still recall feeling the pain which followed her sudden and tragic death.
She was only 13 when she first disappeared. She left without a trace; we were made to believe that she had been kidnapped by someone at first, but then my mother received the strangest of letters depicting my sisters well-being and her great happiness at having left our home. My mother and father did not give up search for my sister- little did they know that she was long lost to us. It has always been unclear to me what actually took place after that. The next thing I remember is that she was pronounced dead by the police.
My mother and father grieved for the loss of their most beloved daughter, and my brothers, which were a couple of years older, for their loving sister.
It was hard being the youngest during that most difficult time. I was very much lonesome and left to fend for myself for the next years because my mother could not bare to pay much attention to me. By the age of 6, I understood things which no child should. Many times, I saw my mother look down at me with guilt, rage, disappointment, despair filled eyes and all I did only seemed to aggravate those feelings she had towards me. My mother was too proud to admit to me that I reminded her of my sister. She always tried to hide this from me, but it was impossible; all those feelings were plain on her face just like a stamp on a white envelope.
I couldn't blame her. I could never hold her responsible for making me feel like a waste of space; like I was a stone on her path, stopping her from ever moving forwards or backwards.
So, I started to hate the sister which I never met. I started to hate her for having left and for getting herself killed.I didn't understand- I couldn't understand how she could have been so selfish to not think beforehand of the consequences of what her decisions would bring about. I felt betrayed. I was revolted. I could not bare to hear her name be mentioned in a conversation, or to walk by that mahogany desk my father kept in the library, who's surface was covered with pictures of her.
At the age of 10 I was sent off to a boarding school somewhere in the middle of the English country side. As time went by ,I finally forgave my sister for all the things which happened as a consequence of her death. I stopped hating her the day I found a letter, addressed to me, in what was once one of my favorite fairy tale books as a child. It was from her. She knew she was going to die- so she left. I couldn't stop the tears from flowing wildly for a couple of hours after having read this. I loved her, and I had always loved her despite the rage I had once felt. I had forgiven her completely for what had happened. Now all that was left for me to do, was to finally forgive myself for having never understood her actions. For judging her without actually ever getting to know her before. For being unjust towards my beloved sister- but most of all, for being too proud to realize her true intentions.
I never did know my sister at all, which is most unfortunate. Despite all, I gained a never ending love, respect and admiration for her. I knew who I was- and I was never my sister- because I imagined my sister being so much generous than me, so much better. I sat many nights just imagining how she would be, and whilst I was dreaming I didn't realize what was so obvious to everyone else. I loved her.
[I know you will read this Mr. Babcock- this is indeed my first idea for this piece of coursework, but after having read this I'm not quite sure if it is on the right tracks. I feel like it is missing a lot of, perhaps, thought process behind it (even though I already have some points down for what I could possibly write in my commentary for this piece of writing). Compared to the examples which you gave us in class, I feel like it is very plain and poor. Either way, I do hope you somehow enjoy it. I am starting to work on some other ideas which I will gladly show you next Thursday. Thank you :)]
I couldn't blame her. I could never hold her responsible for making me feel like a waste of space; like I was a stone on her path, stopping her from ever moving forwards or backwards.
So, I started to hate the sister which I never met. I started to hate her for having left and for getting herself killed.I didn't understand- I couldn't understand how she could have been so selfish to not think beforehand of the consequences of what her decisions would bring about. I felt betrayed. I was revolted. I could not bare to hear her name be mentioned in a conversation, or to walk by that mahogany desk my father kept in the library, who's surface was covered with pictures of her.
At the age of 10 I was sent off to a boarding school somewhere in the middle of the English country side. As time went by ,I finally forgave my sister for all the things which happened as a consequence of her death. I stopped hating her the day I found a letter, addressed to me, in what was once one of my favorite fairy tale books as a child. It was from her. She knew she was going to die- so she left. I couldn't stop the tears from flowing wildly for a couple of hours after having read this. I loved her, and I had always loved her despite the rage I had once felt. I had forgiven her completely for what had happened. Now all that was left for me to do, was to finally forgive myself for having never understood her actions. For judging her without actually ever getting to know her before. For being unjust towards my beloved sister- but most of all, for being too proud to realize her true intentions.
I never did know my sister at all, which is most unfortunate. Despite all, I gained a never ending love, respect and admiration for her. I knew who I was- and I was never my sister- because I imagined my sister being so much generous than me, so much better. I sat many nights just imagining how she would be, and whilst I was dreaming I didn't realize what was so obvious to everyone else. I loved her.
[I know you will read this Mr. Babcock- this is indeed my first idea for this piece of coursework, but after having read this I'm not quite sure if it is on the right tracks. I feel like it is missing a lot of, perhaps, thought process behind it (even though I already have some points down for what I could possibly write in my commentary for this piece of writing). Compared to the examples which you gave us in class, I feel like it is very plain and poor. Either way, I do hope you somehow enjoy it. I am starting to work on some other ideas which I will gladly show you next Thursday. Thank you :)]
