Sample opening to personal essay...
Things that make me angry.
Things that make me angry? How long have you got! I don’t think of myself as a particularly angry person, but there are certain people and actions that fill me with a fiery rage.
Take for example, my darling parents. Yes, yes, they clothe me and feed me and generally do a great job of keeping me alive. BUT! Do they have to, really, question every single thing I do? What do they think is going to happen? Let me describe a typical evening in our house. I
arrive home, laden down with homework, study and football gear. All I want is to
collapse on the couch, eat something tasty and enjoy the exploits of Bear Grylls. Chance would be a fine thing! The banshee shriek begins before I even cross the threshold. “What took you so long?! Peter-next-door was home half an hour ago!” Yes he was. Peter-next-door got a lift! Any chance of ME getting a lift? The torment continues… After dinner (appearance at the table a non-negotiable requirement) the litany begins. “Why am I the only one who knows how to wash the dishes? Surely a teenager in full-time education understands the concept of soapy water? Hmmm?!” Yes mother, I do. I also understand the concept of unbridled fury after I break the family heirloom china.
Things that make me angry.
Things that make me angry? How long have you got! I don’t think of myself as a particularly angry person, but there are certain people and actions that fill me with a fiery rage.
Take for example, my darling parents. Yes, yes, they clothe me and feed me and generally do a great job of keeping me alive. BUT! Do they have to, really, question every single thing I do? What do they think is going to happen? Let me describe a typical evening in our house. I
arrive home, laden down with homework, study and football gear. All I want is to
collapse on the couch, eat something tasty and enjoy the exploits of Bear Grylls. Chance would be a fine thing! The banshee shriek begins before I even cross the threshold. “What took you so long?! Peter-next-door was home half an hour ago!” Yes he was. Peter-next-door got a lift! Any chance of ME getting a lift? The torment continues… After dinner (appearance at the table a non-negotiable requirement) the litany begins. “Why am I the only one who knows how to wash the dishes? Surely a teenager in full-time education understands the concept of soapy water? Hmmm?!” Yes mother, I do. I also understand the concept of unbridled fury after I break the family heirloom china.