• Join over 1.2 million students every month
  • Accelerate your learning by 29%
  • Unlimited access from just £6.99 per month

Autobiography - life with Ana.

Extracts from this document...


AUTOBIOGRAPHY (A significant life experience) LIFE WITH ANA I've accepted it. What else can I do? I'm living with a chronic anorexic for a sister and I have finally come to a conclusion of acceptance. It was September in Iran, when it all commenced- the painful sort of family holiday you go on to pretend things are rosy and you're happy when they are actually pretty screwed. She first came up with this daft idea of her thighs being oversized as we drove through the overwhelming streets of Esfahan, whizzing through the torrid dust and the muffled sound of Islamic harmony. "Am I fat?" she would ask, with her rounded puppy-dog eyes that shimmered from the tear preparing itself to proceed depending on the content of my response. "No." I'd reply. "Do my cheeks wobble when I walk?" she'd ask while demonstrating the motion of walking. "No." I repeated like a broken record. "Have I got bingo wings?" "NO!" I roared as a vein, shaped like the map of a river tributary popped out across my forehead. "You're just telling me what I want to hear, aren't you?" she questioned like an infant. "PLEASE! Just... leave me alone!" Then we had an awkward silence but it was almost like I could hear her thoughts because I knew exactly how she operated. ...read more.


How right I was. I found my mother slowly deteriorating with rage, weeping like a lost child over the kitchen table. "What's wrong? Where's Affy? Where's dad?" I said, panicking. "It's Afsaneh." She stuttered. "WHAT'S HAPPENED?" I screeched. "She's in hospital and they're keeping her for a few months, it's called the re-feeding process and your fathers gone to Iran." I went numb. I felt drained as my whole face lost its vibrancy. Maintaining this perfectly motionless numbness, I glided, up the stairs like an apparition wandering, aimlessly. The thought of not seeing my sister for months, orbited my mind, continuously, reminding me of what I could have done to prevent it; how could I have helped her? But I couldn't have done more than I did. The most powerful person was herself. My mother prepared the meals, placed the food in front of her but only she could swallow it-"You can take the horse to the water but you can't make him drink." June '05. The six week rehabilitation process was complete and I was feeling ecstatic yet apprehensive to see her. I retained this distorted image of her deranged eyes and her skeletal figure, barely able to stand upright. I cringed from the vision of it. ...read more.


The melody and lyrics would devour me entirely, as I would lose my identity for several minutes. Nothing else would matter, only the pulsating beat of the rhythmical percussion; when every time I heard the sound of a melancholy legato tune, one problem would evanesce, one after another and the expression on my face would illumine like the ripening of the sweetest fruit. My musical taste featured various genres and nationalities. I developed a like for the old stuff as I think a lot of the new artists make repetitive, manufactured music with meaningless lyrics. My therapist also healed my heartache for a while on a weekly basis. She would remind me of The Bright side, and taught me that life is what you make it; that I am in control of my emotions. "Mind over matter" she'd say, reassuringly. Three years later and still anorexia hovers over her. After three admissions to different eating disorder units and recoveries to relapses, I have come to terms with it. As a sister, all that is in my reach of helping her is to love and support her. She still has her faulty, anorectic mind set but she is almost eighteen and she must fend for herself now. The glass was smashed but we kept the broken pieces. ...read more.

The above preview is unformatted text

This student written piece of work is one of many that can be found in our GCSE Writing to Inform, Explain and Describe section.

Found what you're looking for?

  • Start learning 29% faster today
  • 150,000+ documents available
  • Just £6.99 a month

Not the one? Search for your essay title...
  • Join over 1.2 million students every month
  • Accelerate your learning by 29%
  • Unlimited access from just £6.99 per month

See related essaysSee related essays

Related GCSE Writing to Inform, Explain and Describe essays

  1. Rural Love, Life and Labour.

    It was a truly magical feeling. Over the next six months Emily and I grew close. We often spent fulfilled days in the city and would meet in the gardens of the house and go for midnight walks (with the English men staying my master allowed me to stay in the house overnight six nights a week).

  2. My Autobiography

    I enjoyed my stay at my cousin's house immensely. Their lifestyle was so different from my own and I wished my family and I could live there, in that hot, peaceful country. Performing Umrah7 was a surreal, almost cosmic experience.

  1. Green River Drama Play

    BOB is nowhere to be seen, standing out of frame. There is an old BLACK AND WHITE TV, a scratched TABLE that looks like it was salvaged from the dump and a COUCH spilling stuffing, stained with alien looking splotches.

  2. My Autobiography

    I sometimes wish my Grandfather was still alive. I wish I had been taken instead of him. Although that didn't happen I often wonder what he would tell me to do in certain situations.

  1. Dazzling - autobiography.

    so as not to wake my mum who was a dragon if woken up without a cup of hot dark tea. I quickly got dressed, carefully choosing what to wear. I finally decided on a lime green tee shirt and some rather large cream shorts which looked dark in comparison

  2. Ace Of Spades

    The Golden eyes settled on the rather sweaty hand before them. "Name's Jax" he murmured softly, before swigging his Sambuca, "And I don't do hands". Jax turned away from the rather hurt Barmen, and found an armchair in the corner of the bar.

  1. The Autobiography of Sham Bakrania the slave.

    At the beach, when we least expected a white man came up to use tied us up and took us to there ship and away. We all were branded with the initial letters of their master's name that we

  2. My Autobiography

    I remember running to my favourite place, the beach, trying to clear the voice of my mother from my mind. I then imagined that she told me everything was fine, I nearly began to believe a lie; a lie that I pleaded would be true.

  • Over 160,000 pieces
    of student written work
  • Annotated by
    experienced teachers
  • Ideas and feedback to
    improve your own work