opinion8ed2
New Member
This is an essay I wrote for my english class. What do you think? 
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Fog
The student ahead of me holds the door open, and I quicken my pace to relieve his possession of the door. Nodding my thanks, I turn to make sure no one is behind me. Seeing no one, I release the door, and it clicks back into place. It's only a short walk out to the car, or a long walk, depending on perspective.
A heavy mist hangs in the air, coating my skin and chilling me to the bone. I shiver inwardly, feeling the intensity of the cold, the intensity of the damp. I reach my car, a million thoughts swimming inside my head, with one dominating: "I don't want to go home." But there is nowhere else to go, so, resigning myself to that fact, I press the button on my remote, and the car lights up in response.
I open the door. I slide into place, push the key in, and turn, careful to push in the clutch. I release the emergency brake, turn on the headlights, and push the gearshift into reverse, and then first. Then I drive-drive away, into the night, into the mist. My tires slide sideways and I slip across the road, out of control. I’m not in control of my car, not in control of my life.
Uncertainty is frightening. It’s a form of fear, a form of panic. It crawls into a person's chest and resides there, scratching away. At times, it gets restless and crawls into one's throat and lodges itself there, a lump that can't be removed by coughing or surgery. Then it creeps its way into a person's head, whispering thoughts of doubt and anxiety and causing headaches that aspirin won’t relieve, the kind of headaches that lack physical pain, the kind that are purely mental, like a storm of doubt.
I live with this parasite of uncertainty. Even as it causes confusion or panic, I continue walking along a path of which I know nothing, a path containing a myriad of difficulties, a path with sharp turns, potholes, and hurdles. These difficulties present me with two options-giving up or overcoming.
Persevering takes courage, it takes bravery, and it takes strength. It takes a hunger, a hunger for success, a hunger for more than I already have.
I keep moving ahead, not knowing which way to go, not knowing which way will bring success or failure, the failure that I fear so intensely, a failure that stares me in the face and threatens to devour me.
Yet somehow I survive. Somehow in the midst of uncertainty, I find a reassuring hope that everything will work out. My epiphany occurs when I learn that sometimes it’s best not to think. Sometimes it’s best to leap without looking for too long, without complicating the problem, without analyzing it.
The car behind me honks to urge me along. The light is green, and I rush through it. Prepared to battle the mist, I find that somehow the mist has thinned. Before me lies a path still littered with patches of fog, patches of fog I am now certain will disappear in time.
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Fog
The student ahead of me holds the door open, and I quicken my pace to relieve his possession of the door. Nodding my thanks, I turn to make sure no one is behind me. Seeing no one, I release the door, and it clicks back into place. It's only a short walk out to the car, or a long walk, depending on perspective.
A heavy mist hangs in the air, coating my skin and chilling me to the bone. I shiver inwardly, feeling the intensity of the cold, the intensity of the damp. I reach my car, a million thoughts swimming inside my head, with one dominating: "I don't want to go home." But there is nowhere else to go, so, resigning myself to that fact, I press the button on my remote, and the car lights up in response.
I open the door. I slide into place, push the key in, and turn, careful to push in the clutch. I release the emergency brake, turn on the headlights, and push the gearshift into reverse, and then first. Then I drive-drive away, into the night, into the mist. My tires slide sideways and I slip across the road, out of control. I’m not in control of my car, not in control of my life.
Uncertainty is frightening. It’s a form of fear, a form of panic. It crawls into a person's chest and resides there, scratching away. At times, it gets restless and crawls into one's throat and lodges itself there, a lump that can't be removed by coughing or surgery. Then it creeps its way into a person's head, whispering thoughts of doubt and anxiety and causing headaches that aspirin won’t relieve, the kind of headaches that lack physical pain, the kind that are purely mental, like a storm of doubt.
I live with this parasite of uncertainty. Even as it causes confusion or panic, I continue walking along a path of which I know nothing, a path containing a myriad of difficulties, a path with sharp turns, potholes, and hurdles. These difficulties present me with two options-giving up or overcoming.
Persevering takes courage, it takes bravery, and it takes strength. It takes a hunger, a hunger for success, a hunger for more than I already have.
I keep moving ahead, not knowing which way to go, not knowing which way will bring success or failure, the failure that I fear so intensely, a failure that stares me in the face and threatens to devour me.
Yet somehow I survive. Somehow in the midst of uncertainty, I find a reassuring hope that everything will work out. My epiphany occurs when I learn that sometimes it’s best not to think. Sometimes it’s best to leap without looking for too long, without complicating the problem, without analyzing it.
The car behind me honks to urge me along. The light is green, and I rush through it. Prepared to battle the mist, I find that somehow the mist has thinned. Before me lies a path still littered with patches of fog, patches of fog I am now certain will disappear in time.
