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It hits the tree in a swift motion. The tree has put hurt on the people within. The car is wrinkled and accordion like.


The junior stood in the inner circle of the ever forming ring surrounding what would be the highlight of the year. Two senior girls were biting, scratching, pawing and grabbing at each other to create painful blows to the opposite opponent.

The parking ticket, tucked under the windshield wiper, just sat there and burned my eyes and i yearned to ravage through the paper and leave no evidence of the ticket on my windshield.

I ran my hand slowly, letting the blood seep into my skin as i ran over the gash in my side.

Out of the vast grey stretch of sky, cold, saddening rain falls to gather in bunches amongst other drops. The pace of fall is picked up more and more and drenches the land which was once dried. A light if danger is bolted down to land. The game is called due to rain.

From flappers to vintage wear, poodle skirts to bell bottoms and from flared jeans to big hair, fashion has changed or advanced through the ages. Each style has described a definition of life through the styles of how we wore those clothes. They define us and the way of life. They tell the world who the wearer is as a person.

My favorite article of clothing that i own is my ripped jeans. Ripped jeans are similar to regular blue jeans except the ripped jeans have holes in them. The holes can range from tiny little tears to ginormous gashes. They can also be anywhere on the jeans. Some holes are on the knees and some are on the back of the jeans. My ripped jeans have a hole around the knee, the front of my upper thigh and another one in the knee but lasting all the way down to my shin. The holes are frayed and look worn in and rugged, a style that can describe my personality well.

My mom and dad were born in an era where fashion was defined in a very distinctive way. My dad was born in the late 50’s when conservative cocktail dresses were in style and my mother was born in the early 60’s when bright colors and go-go looks were in. They were born in a different era for fashion. They don’t really understand the whole ripped  jean look. My mom tells me that my jeans look like something that you would find a hobo or a homeless person wearing on the dirty city streets where she works. She thinks i’m a little crazy to be wearing something that has holes in it and look rediculous but she doesn’t understand that its the style and that’s what’s “in”.

I have a different approach to how i see my choice of style in clothing. When i think of ripped jeans, i think of a rugged, worn in and rebellious spirited person. I think that these jeans have been through a time or two. They have a certain story to tell, kind of like my personality. I hold a sort of rebellious spirit. I want to break through the clichés, stereotypes and all around typical things for a teenager to do. I want to be my own person. I want to stand out and be heard. I want to be me. To me these jeans are not a piece of sewn cloth to keep me warm. They are an art form and express to the world who i am as a person and a character in this game called life. Ripped jeans are my style of choice.

Ripped jeans are more than a holey piece of clothing. They’re more than a misunderstanding of a generation to another generation. They’re a definition of character. They’re an outlet for the inward rebels and the expressions they hold deep inside. They’re my favorite type of clothing and the best thing in my closet.

I noticed the gorgeous boy and found my eyes unable to move, paralyzed. He seemed to have a glow about him as he walked down to the end of the street, every step as weightless as the next almost suspended in the air as if  he was an angel sent down from the one above himself.


My stomach is yelling through the inner walls. It feels like a century before the food will come. More yelling interrupts the conversations already taking place. When will it come? When will it come? When will it come? When…

The soft edges are rubbery and the sides are rounded. There are dents where the mistakes have been fixed and classroom boredom has effected the learning.  Yet when you open the eyes, the object looks decorated and neatly designed with a pattern that only one can make.

The skaters circled the goal and the defense falls, he falls, he falls but he goes unnoticed as someone trips over him, he trips over him. The skate pierces too close to his head and the stream of red gushes out, The skater is horribly injured and rushed to what his fate would decide for him.