Narrative Essay on the Road Less Traveled

The Road Less Traveled

As I was in perspiration, waking up and getting dressed that early had me feeling gloomy as I moved on from so many memories. I heard my brother running down the stairs, being as excited as he was. I remembered feeling tired as we had to get ready for the long day ahead. My legs felt as heavy as bricks I trudged out the door and into the big vehicle, not as optimistic as the others around me. I felt a wave of emotions coming over me as I tried to prepare myself for the life ahead as we headed towards our newfound destination.

“This is my new life…” I thought to myself. I stepped out of the truck and took in a breath of fresh air. It felt non-revitalizing as I tried to embrace my new life with open arms. I walked in and saw the area of it all; some were big, some were small. I then continued to this “cracker jack box” that was said and appeared to be my room. “I have way too many things…” I said to myself as I tried to mentally break down how I was going to organize this so called “room”.

“Aren’t you excited?”

“No.”

For some reason, I started taking a lot of time to re-evaluate my life to try and prepare myself mentally for this. “We’re never going to have enough space.” I’ve never held so many things in my hand at once as I handed them to my mother to have them dusted and packed away until that time. That day came too fast for me to count. The sweat beamed down my face and shoulders as I had to keep shifting up and down the stairs every single time I heard my name in such rage-filled, yet annoying voices.

“Daisha! I need your help up here! Stop moving please!!!”

My body ached as I sat there and heard the noise of soft droplets hitting the hard plastic. I was disappointed with the tiny capacity as I tried to step in it and take this so called “Sponge bath”. “This is ridiculous,” I thought to myself as I epically failed at trying to dump this bucket of water over my head; now drenching the whole bathroom floor with puddles like heavy frantic rain hitting the pavement. As I was getting ready to leave, I heard an assortment of voices near the door; some fading in and out like a voice on a walkie-talkie, the other stayed right where it was.

“Are you done yet?!”

“Yes…?”