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Rated: E · Essay · Writing · #1679521
A satirical look at a narrative essay.
I begin to write this personal narrative essay, first by picking up my pencil. I then start to push out lines that begin to resemble letters, then letters to words, and words to sentences. I can't help but think of a most fantastic quote or line that would begin this essay on a laughing note and with that one piece of cleverly worded genius, I'll  set the atmosphere for the whole essay.



Oh yes, the simple pleasure of the second paragraph. I've accomplished one thing out of many and now I'm on my second! I begin to realize the tip of my pencil is beginning to dull. This is very horrifying, as you see, there is no pencil sharpener in my house and my box of sharpened pencils may not be able to provide the needed utensils. I also begin to feel my bladder to feel up and a compulsive need to google my life problems. "But not at this hour!" I exclaim in my head. I will utterly delight in my ability to finish the second paragraph.





Starting on my third paragraph I begin to think less and less of my progress. But rather, I'm in the zone. I realize a T.V. showing "Miracle Grow" is probably not the best thinking environment, but I will tolerate it because my mother is genuinely enjoying it. I do ask her to turn down the volume, she complies and turns it down 3 clicks, it is still very much audio-able, but just a bit more tolerable . I now start to think back to a time when we had a garden. Puzzled as to why my mother watches these shows about gardening, when we have never had a garden in my lifetime, I ask her. She says she grew one about a year before I was born. Classy.



Staring curiously at the clock, I realize it is most likely time for me to begin laying down. I decide against it, using the reasoning that I will most likely not have the... I begin thinking of the correct words to use, I consider asking my mother, but that might seemingly pull me out of swing with these things. She also might remind me of my passing bedtime. I begin to wonder at what age I won't have a bed time.



Looking at these paragraphs I can't help but notice the change in length. When I start writing, the paragraphs look bulk and walls of texts. But now they're looking more like what you'd see on a normal facebook wall. I must be running out of...I just spoke, the word I was looking for is "inspiration".
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