There’s a First for Everything (Personal prose for English)

I slowly…cautiously…anxiously approach the curb…as if it were a foreign country to me. My neighbor, only two years older than I, stands at the curb like they were born as a citizen in that country. Alongside my mother, I had dread the day this time hath come. My hands were as jittery as a jitterbug and my stomach was churning as if it were filled with butterflies. During that time, I watched in suspense as an oblong and loudly colored vehicle comes screeching to a halt near the curb with vivid, flashing lights blinking everywhere on it like it was Christmas already. Peering over my shoulder with a tear in my eye, I wave to my mom in fear of that it will be the last time I ever see her again.

I slowly…cautiously…anxiously step onto the blackened stairway to the dark and dank innards of the bus. I quickly scan the half-faces to see any familiar ones and the only one I am able to recognize is my neighbor’s who is already seated with another friend. Reluctantly, I take the empty seat at the front because it was wear I felt safe and secure, troubled by the thought of someone not enjoying my presence. As I sit in isolation from the other kids, I fidget around in my seat all the way to school and the suspense of what awaited me was going to end my life rather quickly. I glazed upon the rapidly passing trees and houses and mailboxes only to delay what was really coming, my first look at a school. The bus arrived at the school building, along with 10 or so other busses. I was so nervous that I was sweating bullets and had no idea what to expect. So I take the step off the bus, almost as if it was the infamous NASA video of Neil Armstrong leaping off the second rung of the ladder onto the moon’s surface. We were all greeted by adults who were pointing us in the direction of the classroom

I slowly…cautiously…anxiously walked up behind everyone as we all piled in, one after the other, as if we were prisoners in a death camp each walking into the burning flames of the depths of hell…school. When my turn came to step foot inside the classroom, I didn’t know what to make of it. A large, fire haired lady gleefully walking around and meeting all the newcomers while I just look on in a distraught manner. It was at that exact moment that the she caught a glance of me and headed my direction. I stood there, clutching the straps of my bookbag becoming more unglued, as the day grew old. When she reached me, she asked me my name and I responded, she directed me to my correct seat with my name and everything. After seeing my name, I had become more relaxed and it started to feel like home to me, where everybody knows your name. But that did not keep me from worrying about those around me: one to the left of me, one to the right of me, one to the front, one to the back. No matter where I looked, I knew nobody and knew nothing. As we all sat down and got quiet, I still took one last glance around the room and…nothing. What we did, if anything, in there is all just a haze to me for I was far too distressed to have a care in the world, at the moment…only to get out. The end of the day grew nearer, as the clock struck its thunderous hands from one tick to the next tock. An eternity it felt like, while waiting to be dismissed. Then the loud, clamorous sounds of the bell ringing signifying that we were free to leave, free to leave the bowels of hell, free to return to our houses, and most importantly, free to return to my mother. The first day of school was done, over with, history, no more, but little did I know that I was to endure two thousand one hundred and thirty five more days of this for the next twelve years of my futile existence. My, my, my…how time can fly….