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Personal Essay: The Drainpipe
For a half hour, every school day, for a few months, I was
really happy. A
friend and I would go to the drainpipe, and we would sit, talk,
eat our lunches,
and listen to my walkman. It was the perfect place: It was quiet,
beautiful, and
it was full of peace. It didn't matter whether it was cold or
hot, somehow you
didn't feel anything sitting on that drainpipe. You would feel
the wind on your
face, and it made your face cold, but inside, you felt warm and
cozy, and you
almost felt like you couldn't be harmed. There was something
magical about the
drainpipe. Maybe it was the fact that nobody was around except
the two of us,
and we were tiny compared to the long grass surrounding us. Then
again, it could
just been the freedom of knowing that we were listening to the
walkman that was
banned from school, and we weren't getting caught. What ever it
was, it doesn't
matter because analyzing something takes away the feeling it
gives when you
think about it. It was just a great place, and it made me happy,
and I don't
know why. That makes it better in a way, just knowing that it had
that power.
Everyday, I would meet with a friend at the drain-pipe. That
is until a