How To: Essay

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Why I Like To Fight As soon as the pain from her death subsided, I was again struck by two devastating losses. Two of my very best friends died within a two month span of each other. My best friend, Rockwell died in a fire on Saturday March 18th, 2006 at 3:17 a.m. He was like my older brother. He was always there to walk me home when I feared the bullies would run me home as they usually did. He was always there to lend a hand with math homework, boy problems, and friend problems. He always made sure I was on the right track. My best friend Kristopher took his own life on Tuesday May 9th, 2006, I found him at 4:31 p.m. He was the funniest, most caring and outgoing person I probably have ever met. Anything I needed he was there, anytime I needed him he was there. We had dreams of going to the same college together. But something changed in him the year he turned fourteen. He started behaving strangely and when I asked him what was wrong and he told me, I understood and attempted to do everything in my power to help him. What I am about to tell you is hard for me even three years later. After that I felt alone, like I didn’t have any one to talk to. There was no one that I could vent to about my evil step-sister and her awful father. I didn’t feel safe in my own home with them living there. I would sleep with a knife under my pillow because she said she was going to kill me and my mother. We fought every day; I had to fight to be in my own home. It didn’t feel like a home it felt like a prison. I applaud my mother because when she found out she closed that chapter of her life and she moved on. But I never truly moved on from these things. I constantly felt guilty about everything. I felt as though if I had visited my grandmother more she would’ve had a chance to say goodbye to me. If I had took Khris more seriously and really paid

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