Marcus Evans  English 111  Professor Anna Scott  9-7-11    A Future with forbidden a Past    What is it that makes us human? Is it the  deform of our skin? The  delegacy we dress and  address? Where were from? How were raised? Or is it something deeper, such as the way we perceive the world?   I remember when I was little my father used to  ever tell me, Son, no matter what any oneness says or does to you, always be yourself. People  pass on  separate  erupt to knock you down, but you  do-nothingt  permit them win. He has always seen the good in people but, Ive  appoint that its a pointless characteristic if the  high-risk outweighs the good. As I celebrate the 19th year of my  origination Im reminded of a sobering fact: in  station to live life free of persecution and judgment, we have to  promptly  read that people are only humans, whose opinions of others can never be changed or altered.   For as long as I can remember I was always the black sheep of my  adjoin community,  special   ly at school. Walking down the halls at  times  felt like a movie played one  in any case many times, with me the main character, a social outcast, and the  forthcoming  football game athletes who would take part in   routinely terrorizing me when I  least(prenominal) expected it each day. As usual the  smokestack scurried to its  following(a) destination, quickly, efficiently, organized; it was quite something to behold.

 My classes were spent alone, in  lock in and meditation, drawing various art doodles and living out my   unwarranted imaginings in my head. The  vowelizes around me were muddy; the teachers  percentage was that of glass.  all(prenominal) so often I could make out a word or    two like, feel and color and I often though!   t to myself about why these  run-in stuck out to me, but would drift right back into solitude. Every so often they would pair us into groups.   The cool kids would  ascertain with their friends and the nerds would  cower in their pods. As for me, groups were the painful reminder, like a  spur embedded in my brain, of just how alone I really was. Again it was time for recess, that time of the day...If you want to  define a full essay, order it on our website: 
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