Diary Of A Girl Dialectical Journal

Waiting for the feeling, something to hit me. It became clear this would not happen until I fell asleep. After being awake for almost 4 hours, my eyes really couldn't stay open any longer. Something began to happen, I couldn't tell what. I was falling, falling again. I landed, right in the middle of reality, and nowhere. The voice came on stronger this time, much louder. It was almost like it began to yell. "Can you hear the rumble that's calling?" The voice said again. Despite the loud volume of the voice, it was assuring. It made me feel comfortable. Even though I was in some sort of weakened state, I always felt better here than I did in the real world. Something was telling me that I just needed to be freed. Whether it was the voice inside my head, or some other voice, I felt it. The voice was so showing so much empathy, it felt inhuman, but at the same time it felt so human. It felt real, I could never describe the way it made me feel, how it moved me. I wanted to yell out, with everything I had. Part of me knew it just wasn't right, I had to wait for it to come to me. I knew that everything I wanted would come soon. I know what you're thinking, how was I not freaked out? It's simple, I didn't have room for that kind of thinking. I was so relieved to feel this way, it was a feeling of release. It's like that feeling when you get into a hot tub. The deeper you get, and the longer you stay, the more your body is at

When I was nine years old, I lived in a well-known area in Florida; I lived in a semi-big house that we all called the yellow house. My family called it the yellow house because out of our entire neighborhood we were the only family with a bright yellow house. My family and I had lived in the yellow house for a total of four years, starting from when I was four. The house was a big part of my life because I had watched it being built so I had an emotional attachment with it. During the last year when my family and I lived there, my mom became pregnant with her fifth child. Around the same time my mom and my sisters constantly visited my grandmother up in a small town in Georgia. Up in Georgia my mom had made one friend that lived in the neighborhood so me and my sisters became good friends with his kids.

“I know what will make you feel better. Let’s play the happy game,” called the sound of Freddy’s voice.

Under the oak tree, Freddy sat playing in the mud. Rolling a piece of mud between his hands, he eyed the distance between him and Seymour. Taking a small hop closer to the pond, he checked the distance again. Drawing his arm back, he threw the mud ball at Seymour. Lucky for Seymour, Freddy’s aim was a little off. The mud ball hit the water next to Seymour’s head splashing him.

Lila lay on her bed staring at the ceiling thinking over the events of the evening. The more she recalled, the more she was mortified for acting like a love sick, slobbering idiot in front of not only the most beautiful man she’d ever met, but he was her best friends cousin of all things! Lila groaned, burying her head into her pillow. She tried to console herself by thinking she would never see him again. She could avoid him by simply not going back there. It wouldn’t be too difficult to do. She would never have the guts to venture to a club like that on her own. This is exactly the reason that Rachael had taken her there. Lila was trying to convince herself he was charming to all the ladies. He worked at a night club. Of course he would

Burrowed: Move underneath or press close to something in order to hide oneself or in search of comfort. Especially in times of worrisome or need. Ex: John is burrowed deep under his bed sheet covers when he hears noises at night.

Personal freedom is freedom of the person in going and coming, equality before the courts, security of private property, freedom of opinion and its expression, and freedom of conscience subject to the rights of others and of the public. Some examples of personal freedom are us being able you follow any religion we want. Another example would be us being able to speak our mind and wear whatever we want. In the other hand we have non personal freedom where we can find good examples of it in the book called “The Diary OF A YOUNG GIRL”.

Nevertheless, I still had to wake up sooner or later – the indestructible reality. Someone from the outside was calling my name and asking for me. This person needed me and needed me to wake up right now. I could not hear anything, but I knew that an urgent request was sent and I must respond to it. Just like responding to the alarm when it was way too early, I struggled to get back my conscious and get my body

The print I chose is the Black-Bellied Darter because it reminds me of friends who are always together. Since I was a kid I have always had a best friend and this print teaches me how birds have friends too. When I was new to my old school I didn’t have my best friend so I felt alone but as time went on I learned to make new friends. My friends and family mean a lot to me and to birds they mean everything. The way I see it is that both of them are hunting together, similar to the way I spend time with my friends with activities my friends and I enjoy. These two birds seem like they have been sitting on the branch for hours, waiting for their meal. These birds are different than us on a friendship level because we have a choice of who are friends

At the start of the summer, I had the opportunity to fly to Michigan to see where my dad grew up. As I flew on the plane, I thought of all the sights I would be able to see and draw to share with my friends online about the exhausting yet fun travel to Michigan. But, as we grew closer and closer to Michigan, I was only able to see white, fluffy clouds cover the thick, oval window in front of me. So, for a while I slept and decided to not look out the window until we landed, until my overly excited mother vigoursly slapped my knee to jolt me up. I was in a state of shock but still dazy due to I was almost asleep. But, she told me to look out the window as I would see something I had never seen before. After, seeing out the window the first time,

I hadn't seen the door before. It wasn't there last night. Cautiously, I turned the handle. It seemed as though once I put my hand on the knob, it was stuck there. I slowly pulled the door open, and I was sucked into the pitch black room. It was so dark that it felt like I had my eyes closed as I floated through the air. Down I went, feeling like every second

But there was this hidden feeling; a feeling of emptiness. A feeling of regret. A feeling of helplessness. I felt like I was going to die; and I was going to die alone. I started hallucinating; I heard dinosaurs. I heards chickens. I heards rock cracking. I even heard bombs exploding. I thought I was going crazy. The hallucinations did not stop there. I heard an unknown political figure speaking in a foreign language. I heard a happy boy sipping his smoothie. After what seemed like a million years, I blacked out. I heard a lot, even when I was unconscious. I heard a woman screaming. I heard a man sinking. I heard paper ripping. I heard clothes sliding. I even cackling of fire. I remember coming to a few hours later, at supper time. It was cold still, and I was under a giant heap of comforters on my bed. I was fully clothed. My mom told me she had worried about me not feeling well, and took me to the doctor’s the day after. I got the flu, and so did everyone else in my family. I do remember crying, feeling like the whole thing was my fault. I even remember kicking my dad in the shin for recording the “shriek” after I was okay, and recovered from the malady. I do not know, even to this day, though, how I got on my bed, fully clothed, under a heap of

Ann Frank was a significant German-Jewish diarist. She was known for writing diary while hiding in the attic for escaping from Nazi party’s catching. (Roosevelt) Therefore, Ann Frank’s family and another family hid in the “secret Annex” in seclusion which is isolated from the outside world at Amsterdam. They lived crowded, confronted hunger, and fed up with the life in living at the confined attic (back of the book). For the next difficult two years, Ann Frank kept on her diary and recorded what happen in the war those days and her real feeling. After world War Two, her father, Otto Frank, got Ann Fran’s diary from his friend which is discovered in the attic and he published the edited version which is called The Diary of a Young Girl in 1947. This book provides a real record of World War Two and also let historians can confirm the historical authenticity. The Diary of a Young Girl has become a meaningful and valuable document in history, in this paper will explore how did Ann Frank and her family keep their life in the attic? And what is the effect after her diary was published to the world after World War Two?

As I sit here in the midst of the night pondering on all the things that have went wrong in my past. My priorities have been twisted and my vision has been obstructed; the truth hurt way too much to handle and when the real world hit me I was lost. Everything I had worked for was gone and the person I loved most was nowhere to be found -- it was just me, myself, and my notebook. My thoughts tended to unravel when they flowed in-between my fingers, the days flew by when I wrote about them and the weight from my shoulders were lifted off. This was therapy and my introspective journey had begun. Leading up to this point, my life was in disarray and I felt that I needed to take this time to reflect on my wrong doings, set my priorities straight, shift my perspective, and focus on my education in order for me to pursue the finer things in life.

The Diary of a Young Girl is an interesting read. Sad when you realize a young girl’s life was taken away in such a horrible and selfish manner. Hopeful and optimistic is often the tone of Ann’s writing. Anne probably never imagined her diary would be made public and read the world over. I am not sure she would have written so openly and honestly if she had thought that would be the case. This book allows the reader to see through the eyes of a teenager the outward experience of war and the inward degradation of the human spirit of eight humans confined in fear and constant isolation.