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The wedding
Light was scattered on every corner of the room filled with ubiquitous crowds in vibrant clothes. Clinks of wine glasses, and conversations of the young and old echoed off the walls. There was no rhythm in any of those sounds of the crowd, so out of order, and so disturbing. It felt like disarray just for the little girl to step into the room. Food had already arrived on the numbers of round tables with quilt coverings. Familiar faces and those who she didn't know were welcoming her in, the light shining so bright into her eyes as she looked around, knowing there was no way to hide from those with enthusiasm.
It made her feel so bare and thin just to be walking to find her mother. The noises of the wedding filled her head, she felt dizzy. The laughter, the smiling faces of everyone in a festive atmosphere. She didn’t belong to this. Their smiles seemed to intermingle into twisted faces with continuation of the chaotic revelry. They were partying, all dancing, all looked to be filled with crooked smiles that were numb. They were all crazy except her, they were all unrhymed. A multitude of faces had turned into something inhuman, they still wore the beautiful luxurious dresses and suits yet they looked different. Those straight white legs have turned into thin tentacles of gray holding up the body, arms still of human characteristics.
Suddenly everyone was quiet, they all stood up overshadowing the little girl. Music was turned on as if a notice for someone’s arrival. An ethereal being clothed in white has entered, she walked up the grand floral pathway heading for the front of the room with a calm twisted smile, she was the bride. She held hands with her spouse, and her father cried as the finely dressed gentleman gave his oath. Suddenly the little girl’s back was tapped by a warm hand, it was her mother. They have found each other, everything has finally gone back to normal.
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In this piece I’m writing a personal experience of a wedding where I experienced a bit of a panic attack after I got lost from my mom, and since I was an antisocial child I couldn't process my emotions well and to look for help from other adults. I used hyperbole in my writing in the last few sentences of the second paragraph and in the last paragraph like, “Their smiles seemed to intermingle into twisted faces with continuation of the chaotic revelry…Those straight white legs have turned into thin tentacles of gray holding up the body, arms still of human characteristics.” I wrote this because I enjoy imagining my emotions in an artistic and abstract way as if living beings or one's body feature and reaction.