I stand nervously just outside the ramshackle garage. As I scan it’s run-down exterior, I begin to remember my early child hood days. I remember playing in the dirt by the tall pine, drawing pictures in the earths crust. Nature was my canvas and my vivid imagination alone was my palette. Unlike other kids my age, I did not have the luxury of crayons and paper. Instead, my play consisted of climbing trees, catching frogs, and building small houses out of twigs. My mind continues to race, memories of my younger days flooding my thoughts. Slowly, I build the courage to grasp the handle of the garage door and eventually I muster the strength to pull it open. In a split second, the garage door flies open; the sun pours in casting light upon my dark and forgotten past. In that moment, I feel as though I am 5 years old again, once again confined to the cold, dark, rat infested garage I called home.

So I’ve written like 5 essays now and I hate them all. I’m clearly running out of thought as you can see by even this on paragraph. I need help! The aim is about how until I was 5 I grew up in an abandoned garage and how that has taught me to work hard so I never end up in a situation like that again. It also taught me to appreciate things and to take nothing and make it somthing. In essence, this is my cinderella story.

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