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Ezzie Brown

Esmeralda Rosalind Brown hates her full name for its pretense of regality, but this is her official bio and I am her brother, so that’s what she gets! She was born on October 1st sixteen years ago and I’ve known her ever since. She’s not too fond of school -- I mean, who isn’t? -- so my parents tried to put her in boarding school for the first two years of high school, but it was too much, being hippie and foodie and no closer to Hogwarts. We love her but it’s not her priority for happiness at this moment -- I’m not sure what is and neither is she, so she’s pretty down. And by pretty down, I mean far too clinically down. But maybe public school is treating her better? I should check in more often. She likes writing poetry and runs cross country because it’s the least competitive sport. She’s full of sass and cracks as many jokes as she does depressing sentiments. I know she’ll figure things out soon, but until then -- she’s still Ezzie.

 

With absolute affection,

Nathaniel

 

Things I'm afraid of

  • By EZZIE BROWN
  • Feb 8, 2016
  • 2 min read

Ezzie Brown

02-07-16

500 Word Essay

AP Language and Composition

“Things I’m afraid of”

Chafing.

Thanks ‘rents for the skinny genes

-- so I can wear skinny jeans --

but I know they won’t last forever.

I’ve seen what happens.

I’ve seen my future.

And I fear it,

this fear I’ve been trained into

and though it pains me to admit it--

I am a product of my species.

I just fear that discomfort.

I don’t complain much,

but I fear wanting to.

This city.

Cause it’s new,

but I’m not.

I’m sixteen years old

and already

that’s sixteen years away

from being born again.

Valentine’s Day.

Well,

Aren’t I supposed to?

My Dad’s birthday.

It’s a big one -- his leap year day,

finally.

What must that feel like?

To be born on a day

that even the calender forgets most of the time.

no wonder he’s crisising mid-life.

500 words.

That’s a lot to give.

With only a letter to get.

And not even one of the interesting ones

in an envelope and stamp.

I wonder whatever happened to my penpal in India from third grade.

I hope she’s well.

But what if she’s burning?

Global warming.

I’ve heard this city is miserable in winter.

And just because I’m miserable,

doesn’t mean the weather’s been.

Hail pockmarks

and mush sheets

but nothing huge, nothing normal.

What will I do if I’m still alive to see it all go down

in fifty years?

In fifteen?

Addiction.

Cause it seems to be a problem for some folks.

Cigarettes for the young

Devices for the children

Marriage for the middle-aged

Death for the old

Death for all

Life for all.

It’s that discomfort thing again.

Today,

because I’ll have to do my math after this

SOHCAHTOA, specifically--

Yesterday,

because I didn’t dream again

and that’s worse than dreaming--

Tomorrow.

I mean, if it’s going to be like today…

what’s not to fear?

Everyone else.

Because I’m scared

that all these words

-- precious and mine --

yet everyone else’s,

have already written

have already been done

which would mean--

I’ve already been done.


 
 
 

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