Personal Essays

      $5 Meal Deal      Three men crammed into a sedan. Hot and hungry made for a dreadful combination. With one adult male and my cousin, who spread his legs, I sat there uncomfortably. Hugging the door and having little to no space left to maneuver. This went on for the better part of an hour and a half. The idea to stop to get some food was thrown up. My cousin and I eagerly jumped at the opportunity to escape the suffocating box on wheels. A breath of fresh air was the best thing I had felt in a long time. As we stepped out of the car, there it was on the wall, our lord and savior, the $5 Meal Deal. Small bag of the most delectable fries, five chicken nuggets, a drink, and a choice of a McDouble or McChicken. Affordable, and one hundred percent worth every single dollar. Like a candy to a baby, we were enamoured by the sight, drawn by the beauty of it all. We bolted into the McDonald's and wasted no time ordering two $5 meal deals.      T...

No dilly dally      As I write this essay, I stare at a blank page while it stares back at me. A million thoughts running through my head, but no words to speak of. A still page with impatient fingers ready to type, but a mind that shuts down any and every idea. The desire to check my notifications, listen to music, or play games lay nearby like a looming storm cloud arriving on a sunny day. Anything but writing the essay suddenly becomes so much more interesting and important. I understand what needs to be done, but my body is unwilling to comply. That is a feeling I know all too well, but I am helpless to stop it. I had a bad case of the procrastination disease as of late.      My mom had been pushing me to sign up for a summer camp I'd been on the fence about for some time. I had gotten to the point that almost every day she would ask, “Have you applied for it yet?” and my answer would always be the same: “Not yet”. One day, I finally gave in and started...

  Reconciliation      I have never been a very talkative and outgoing person. More recently, I have been made aware of the fact. It was Christmas Eve of last year, and we had invited a few guests over to share dinner. My mother is a very talkative and outgoing person as she was an only child and seeks to make everyone feel at home and cared for; she wants to project love for the siblings she never had. She was very active with the guests while still somehow managing to finish up her cooking. My father was in charge of the music and talked with the dads and adults. Then lastly, my sisters had yet to finish getting ready and hadn't come down to interact with the guests. I had been downstairs snacking on the small trays of grapes, crackers, and cheese. When the guests had arrived, I did not cower away at the sight of human interaction, nor did I jump in excitement to meet them. I would go out of my way to at least introduce myself and maintain a small conversation if th...

  Arduous Art      The plastic models I have constructed throughout my adolescence and teenage years. The first time I was gifted a plastic model kit, I was confused. I thought to myself, “This can't be right; shouldn't they have constructed it before?” The challenge was daunting and demanding. I needed tweezers, pliers, and a special adhesive called Plastic Cement. The sheer amount of tools and precision needed to fulfill the project was frightening. I was exploring a cave with a match to light my way. Unboxing the kit unveiled the trays of pieces I need to put together to create the tank. Glancing at the instructions was no help, vague annotations on a large diagram of an unfinished tank. Arrows and letters are paired with numbers to differentiate the myriad of pieces, such as “A3” or “B20”.  Being placed in the middle of the fire, I had to navigate my way to the exit. I began to cut out the pieces and try to assemble them according to the diagram on the instr...