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My Autobiography

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Introduction

Autobiography From an early age I knew what I wanted to do and who I wanted to be. I was determined and even sometimes obsessive. Looking back now I fail to find the transition between my younger single minded self and my current persona. Back then I would spend hours locked away in my room drawings cars and fighter jets, wallowing in the multicoloured produce of time. The rest of my time was filled with playground adventures at school, basic necessities and endless killing sprees on the computer. I look back now and wonder who or what made me. Trying to see what influenced my young eager mind, which now in hindsight is obvious, reading. Books filled my mind with weird and wonderful ideas, worlds without rules or laws and daring feats. My early world was innocent and na�ve to the problems of society. I was free. The gentle stream flowed and meandered through the leafy forest. The thick oaks lay austerely at its banks providing sanctuary from life's troubles. A thousand loving mothers clutching their young. The lucid water slowly lapped its way up the shingle beach. The tranquil sky, pure, smudged only when a white foamy cloud sails wistfully towards the horizon, suspended in the heavens. Each moment was eternity and I wished only to capture these few seconds and leave them unblemished for ever. ...read more.

Middle

I carefully dragged my limbs out of the water and lay out flat in the heat of the sand pondering over the question of life as each water droplet evaporated off of my back. Snow days were not so much as a rarity when I was younger. At least once a year we were promised a day full of snowballs and sled races. It was an annual event and on the day the whole neighbourhoods kids would come out and play. The road would be full of screaming children. The snowball fights would last long and only ended when everyone was too cold and tired to carry on. We would trudge back home to be greeted by warm mugs of tea and biscuits. I remember Tom Forest well. He was a young boy at the time of my memory and very annoying. His cronies that he spent time with made him their leader due to, what they were convinced were, excellent insults. If ever you entered a word throwing match with one of them you were guaranteed that in a short while Tom would waddle over, sweat clinging to his upper lip and spittle flying from his stuttering mouth. His arms were huge and pink like hanging hams and his belly was a barrel of beer. He was short yet any room he entered was instantly dominated by his loud voice. ...read more.

Conclusion

I neither need to be told or forced into studying, because I know that I must if I should realise my dreams. This makes me sound responsible, but that is not true. I am sometimes very irresponsible. Perhaps this was due to my care free home life. Filled with endless summer days, building dens or bouncing on the trampoline in the garden or lost in the imaginary worlds of computer gaming, 'FIFA', 'Call of Duty', 'Lord of The Rings'. This and other distractions left me incapable of doing almost anything, even the simplest of tasks such as washing dishes. When I think back now to the early years of my life, I wonder and dream. I wonder who I would be and where I would be going if I had not made the decisions that I had made or had the good fortune that I met along my way. But in the end I am proud just to be me. Emotions, well in a cauldron of chaos, when I think of my younger self, I smile at his successes, empathise with his problems and cringe with embarrassment at his rash actions. He is another person and yet an integral part of me. Clutching at my conscience, and yet clutched, somewhere deep within my chest. Driven into me by myself and my ever changing circumstances. Hidden by years of change and yet on fleeting occasion he appears, innocent as white, white snow. ...read more.

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