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I am a collector, collecting everyone's problems, emotions and words, making them my own. I think before I talk and overthink what I say. I feel others pain. I trade my happiness in exchange for someones sorrow, until I am black whole filled with nothing but negativity. I told myself this is okay. "Remember you are third" my pastor used to say. Jesus first, others second, and finally me.

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Its growing up to be something like somebody else. You want to be as good ad them and try as hard as them to fulfill your task. From watching Kobe Bryant become an all star basket ball player to being as smart as Albert Einstein. For me its trying to be the best at the things I do. Like I wad inspired to get into the marching band this year because I couldn’t last year or me trying to get the smart cookie award in class. Being inspired is different for every person but for me its this.

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I feel like a roller coaster that continues to change. Not knowing what's coming next, I just go with it. I take on whatever comes next. Through many curves, drops, and heights, I view this roller coaster as my life. Every time I stop and let new people aboard, it is a new start.

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I feel like I’m being sound proof glass, being able to look in on things but not hear them. I can make out what they are saying but not understand it completely. While others can look on me, they can’t understand what i am doing either. I'm on my own side of the glass, the clear one, while the other side is foggy but still recognizable.

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I live my life in other people’s shoes, seeing through their eyes. Every time a problem arises, I try and see from their point of view, and understand where they’re coming from. I empathize with people, and spend time seeing things from their point of view. I act as an observer in situations between me and someone else, and I always try to see their point of view. 

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A piece of driftwood floats with the tides, floating without a care. Going over dark and menacing water while drifting along light blue beaches with tropical fish around. Most people see me as a cool little piece of the sea, some may see me as a treasure. I won’t bother them if they would like to be left alone. I will just float around with or without the birds or fish. I’ll be chilling
on the beach, the place that I love.

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I feel as if I'm on a path, a path diverged with very different destinations. Unknowing of the outcome of either. The unknown is frightening but exciting. Not knowing which path to take, which is the right one, where would it take me. The unknown is frightening. How could it change me. or my life. The unknown is exciting. The decision of which path to take. Which path, which direction, which destination is the right one. If I go one way I can't turn back. I have to make a decision, but which is the right one.

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I feel like I am climbing a never ending ladder. I take that risk going all the way up to eventually meet my destination. I climb up so high and then eventually I hit a stop sign on the way and fall back down a few rungs. Instead of just giving up I keep climbing up that ladder in hopes of reaching my goal. No matter what brings me down, people, injuries or myself I focus on that one thing which is climbing higher. Even when my destination is near anything can happen that will push me a little farther down. I will never give up as I am determined.

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I am a bird that sticks to the flock and no matter what I do I always am the last one. No matter how hard I try and how fast I flap my wings I will always be last. The other birds pay no mind to me but I am carrying a burden that is way heavier than the wings on my back. One day I'll be in the front of the flock guiding others through life. However, in my mind, I will always be last because there is someone that is always better than me. There will always be a faster bird than me and I hate it.

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I'm like a fireman, my job is to help people and provide a safe feeling. Although it's just a job it's a trait in my everyday life too. I take on people's problems as a fireman would take on a fire. I'm always on guard and ready to be there for when people need me, as a fireman is always the first to the fire .

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I am a bee in a beehive, surrounded with hundreds of competitors, and thousands of wax cells filled with opportunities and possibilities to shape my life. My parents, two honey making bees, both strive for their little larvae to shoot for the stars and hopefully become a House bee if they are lucky.nstead of being stuck in a small, hexagonal, wax cell, taking care of the young, this little larvae wants to be free. However, this choice is taken, because as soon as that little larvae was born, the decision was already made for him….for me.

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I always feel like sometimes I am the happiest one in the room. I feel like I am the sun peaking through the clouds on a cloudy day. I try to make everyone happy but sometimes I am not enough. I hate seeing the people around me upset and I try to help them find the light in the darkness. Being happy is only enjoyable when the people you love are happy too.

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Being the social butterfly that I am, I love experiencing new things and meeting all different types of people. Doing so opens the door to many opportunities that other people may not get to experience.

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The word short can be interpreted in many ways. Height, time, temper, etc. I find myself never taking advantage of my free time, and I happen to be short in height. The word has been used so many times by those around me that I have adopted the word as a part of me. My parents always say that "life is short" and that I should be spending it by doing something other than playing video games. My parents also say that I'm "too short" and that I need to eat more. The word can be used in many ways, and most of them can be used to describe me.

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I am a soldier. A tough, unfazed, strong, perfectly healthy and inspiring individual at first glance. A blazing fire burns inside my eyes as I am ready to serve my next fight. But behind that fire lays blood. The blood of the dying soldier next to me on the cold, hard, muddy earth of the battlefield. Behind that fire brews the thick, smoggy air, filled with gunpowder and screams of slaughter. Behind that fire is the trauma of war that is ingrained in my memory.

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I am that item that’s buried among other stuff, hoping that somebody will dig me up, alas, I am still under that pile. No one realizes that the item can be put to good use, no one realizes the item is fun, no one realizes that perhaps they’d like the item, but each day, the item is seen but not touched, and completely glossed over.

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I’m a lyrebird singing Beethoven to a symphony orchestra. I’m not qualified to do so, it’s not impressive to anyone, and the only reaction I’ll get is annoyance.

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My life is a never ending rainstorm, but I always remember my umbrella.

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You’re in a black hole that you fell into and you look over and see sunlight. You will stay in that hole forever unless you start digging yourself out. While digging you find that every time strike the ground with the shovel you start feeling better and more loving as you get closer to the light.

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Contentment is like a stop sign, where we pause, look back on where we've been, and then prepare for the next part of the journey. I have had many ups and downs in my journey. I finally feel at peace with myself and my life. I feel confident about my future.

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I feel as if I am stuck in the middle of the ocean. I have to find a way to stay afloat. I have already been given the tools to stay alive.  Merely, a statement. "Know your worth' . I know I can survive in this giant pool of water. I am strong. Everything will turn out fine. I know this because I am not willing to give up. I will never give up. I will not drown out of fear and distress. I will stay afloat.

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I feel like a deer. I'll have a goal I'm working towards, the other side of the street. I'll run across hoping that It would turn out fine, but half way through something else changes my mind. A car. I'll get caught up in the headlights and can't decide whether to finish crossing or go back. If I continue I may get hit, but if I go back another car could come and the same thing will happen over and over. But instead I stay stuck in the middle, staring at the headlights, unable to move.

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I feel like a hiker. Determined to get to the end of the trail. The blazes being little stops to make sure I am on the right path. My backpack holds all the knowledge and tools to help me get through. I will make sure that nothing stops me until I reach the summit.

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I feel as if I’m stuck in solitary confinement where the room is a scary black blanket of darkness, a place full of nightmares. A deep hole where the light cannot reach,  and there is no way out. Through the bars I can see people living their lives and paying no attention to me. Time in my cell seems endless and wasted. The room is dark and I keep bumping into objects in my cell and playing with the paint peeling off the walls. I can get out of my cell to bask in the outdoors but my cell seems to follow me. I can try to run from it but in the end I’m just running in circles. I try reaching through the bars of my cell; grasping for some sort of connection or attention, but just end up empty handed and in pain. For I am alone.

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I feel like spinach. Like spinach, many young people hate me for my uniqueness, and even some adults do too. Like spinach, I am an acquired taste. Like spinach, I have many detractors. Like spinach, I do have several who like me, and like spinach, those who like me, love me.

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I feel as if I am a cheetah fighting for the same food as the lions. I want to prove I am the one who deserves the prey more than the lions . I try to outperform others and try to be the best at whatever I am doing. For me, the prey isn't important but instead the meaning behind winning something over someone else. I make sure to outmaneuver the lions and get to the gazelle quicker just to show that I have won the race. I like to show off my speed and test myself.

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extended metaphor paragraph (at least five sentences)