Diamonds are my Best Friend Essay Example For Students

Diamonds are my Best Friend Essay Devils Playground Slowly the snow drifted along the sidewalks and streets as he strolled down his own path. Following no particular way but his own, he traveled. Knowing not his destination but only his outcome. His ideas were changed, his beliefs were diminished to that of nothing and his perception of reality was turned upside down. All he knew now was himself and that of his tendencies. His own nature was the only real and raw thing that he was able to hang on to. A life of mistreatment and abuse, his last actions displayed his true feelings. I should have stopped you in the womb. When I had the chance I should have taken it. YOU, were my worst mistake. LEAVE! Nobody here wants you nobody here cares for you and there is no place for you. Hide yourself somewhere and do the world a favor.His mother screamed constantly, shaming him to that of nothing but guilt of being alive. It was a common ritual in his OLD household. Then tonight, with the quick flick of a wrist and the glisten of rose red, the shaming ended. The guilt stopped. Then with two more quick and swift movements he finished off what was left to remind him of his past. What would have been witnesses were nothing more than cold and bludgeoned heaps. Ryan lived on the outskirts of the city. Wandering from house to house throughout his childhood he knew not much of the meaning of family. His parents were constantly sending him to foster families for a few weeks at a time then taking him back, only to get a few more pleasurable meetings with him. He was unwanted by all but himself and ignorant to the idea of remorse. He always knew one day, he alone, could stop all his pain and all his suffering but he wasnt concerned with that right now. In fact, the only things that crossed his mind were, Right foot, Left foot. It was all he thought of and it was all he spoke of as he walked. He carried the rose red razor in his right hand and his left was clenched tight. His knuckles as white as the snow that surrounded him. His pajama pants and white tee shirt were all he wore. No shoes to protect his feet from the harsh winter cold and snow and no hat to warm his freezing head. His skin white as ivory, he continued. The sidewalks, which he traveled, turned from the gray new and well-kept asphalt to the black torn up tar. His journey had taken him from the outskirts of the city and into the heart of downtown. His sandy blonde hair seemed to dance in the wind, the curls whipping about at his forehead. Periodically he glanced to his side staring at windows of closed department stores, viewing the displays that had been so meticulously put together. Sometimes choosing right and sometimes choosing left, he crossed streets at his own abandon. Cars laid on their horns and people yelled, but he paid no attention. Those who came close to him he turned and glared at. Those who came too close left scared and afraid for themselves and their families. Even though he said nothing it was his look. His look alone scared those of the common soul. His look alone could frighten the most holy and the most agnostic. It was that of pure and raw hatred. After traveling about 3 hours, he finally spoke. Left here, then into the alley, thank you. Left here then into the alley, thank you.What it meant, he didnt understand and he didnt care. He just followed his own instructions. .u934c3803685965aed4b892d27c03dc8a , .u934c3803685965aed4b892d27c03dc8a .postImageUrl , .u934c3803685965aed4b892d27c03dc8a .centered-text-area { min-height: 80px; position: relative; } .u934c3803685965aed4b892d27c03dc8a , .u934c3803685965aed4b892d27c03dc8a:hover , .u934c3803685965aed4b892d27c03dc8a:visited , .u934c3803685965aed4b892d27c03dc8a:active { border:0!important; } .u934c3803685965aed4b892d27c03dc8a .clearfix:after { content: ""; display: table; clear: both; } .u934c3803685965aed4b892d27c03dc8a { display: block; transition: background-color 250ms; webkit-transition: background-color 250ms; width: 100%; opacity: 1; transition: opacity 250ms; webkit-transition: opacity 250ms; background-color: #95A5A6; } .u934c3803685965aed4b892d27c03dc8a:active , .u934c3803685965aed4b892d27c03dc8a:hover { opacity: 1; transition: opacity 250ms; webkit-transition: opacity 250ms; background-color: #2C3E50; } .u934c3803685965aed4b892d27c03dc8a .centered-text-area { width: 100%; position: relative ; } .u934c3803685965aed4b892d27c03dc8a .ctaText { border-bottom: 0 solid #fff; color: #2980B9; font-size: 16px; font-weight: bold; margin: 0; padding: 0; text-decoration: underline; } .u934c3803685965aed4b892d27c03dc8a .postTitle { color: #FFFFFF; font-size: 16px; font-weight: 600; margin: 0; padding: 0; width: 100%; } .u934c3803685965aed4b892d27c03dc8a .ctaButton { background-color: #7F8C8D!important; color: #2980B9; border: none; border-radius: 3px; box-shadow: none; font-size: 14px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 26px; moz-border-radius: 3px; text-align: center; text-decoration: none; text-shadow: none; width: 80px; min-height: 80px; background: url(https://artscolumbia.org/wp-content/plugins/intelly-related-posts/assets/images/simple-arrow.png)no-repeat; position: absolute; right: 0; top: 0; } .u934c3803685965aed4b892d27c03dc8a:hover .ctaButton { background-color: #34495E!important; } .u934c3803685965aed4b892d27c03dc8a .centered-text { display: table; height: 80px; padding-left : 18px; top: 0; } .u934c3803685965aed4b892d27c03dc8a .u934c3803685965aed4b892d27c03dc8a-content { display: table-cell; margin: 0; padding: 0; padding-right: 108px; position: relative; vertical-align: middle; width: 100%; } .u934c3803685965aed4b892d27c03dc8a:after { content: ""; display: block; clear: both; } READ: Journalistic integrity Essay He reached a corner near an old apartment home and turned left. The snow was now thick and layered on the ground. His pants were soaked and his tee shirt was starting to freeze. A little farther down he came upon an alley and took a right into it. There a man stood. Long black flowing trench coat with a black hat and suit and tie. He just stood there his coat unbuttoned and blowing in the wind. His head