I started off , in the ground . Never planned to be anything but a cucumber. But one day everything changed , I was sitting in the ground minding my own buissness when someone , something was tugging on my head . I could see light . It was cold, the air was brisk on my newly formed skin. I was traveling , the sun was too strong for my eyes . The will I had to open them was too strong and soon my eyes ajusted. I was comeing closer so a whole bunch more cucumbers just like me , in a box well atleast I think it was a box , I was dropped into it. Crowded by mulitple screaming vegtables. A rumbleing noise started up and we started moving , passing the farm I once used to come from on a journey to the unexplored. The spinning tires kicked up the dirt road making it hard to breathe , excitement filled me , and questions baffled me. Exploring beyond the dirt, beyond the place I knew best . Out of my comfort zone , and alone .

Soon the dirt road had ended and the grey cement was now what we traveled on , what a diffrence , such a smoother ride . The ride was long and boring , we started to slow down so I assumed we reached our destination . It had a tube on the roof and smoke was coming out of it , there was a sign onfront of the long shiney door which read 'Asian Pickle Factory' what was I doing here? How could I read? Well anyways , my fate was now determined. I was destined to be a pickle , but the process was it painful? Would I still be alive? My nerves got the best of me and I started paniking trying to escape . I was despereate to get out , I didn't want to be a pickle .

It was too late , I was trapped behind the golden gates connecting me to the road. 'Doomed' thats all i could think , we arrived at the loading station prepared to be unloaded. Shaking and hyperventalating. Barrels full of vinager , never smelt a liquid the smelt so sour. What were they for .. I was awaiting the pain , they picked up the wooden bin I was in , heading for the barrel's Walking quickly but their agility was magnifient as we reached the barrel I braced myself for anything , pain , a life after death , just something.. The bin started to tilt, I started to roll down into the the vinager , no longer was I in the box but in mid air , time slowed it felt like I was suspended in mid air seemed like minuets before all of a sudden , things became reality and I plumbited down, to the bottom of the barrel with a plunk. Fully imersed in the vinager I expect something strange to happen , expecting to feel pain I waited . When I could no longer hold my breathe I took one big breathe in , filling my mouth with the tangy fluid. I swallowed with my puckered face and tried again , desperate for air I kept on breatheing in , untill there was no more air in my lungs and I just gently shut my eyes and fell to a deep sleep.

Months later..

I wake up to the sound of something running down the drain , I was alive but I felt diffrent , I felt older. What had happened to me! I scope the room , I see dark green things right beside me , my vision was blurred but they looked familiar like old cucumber friends I made on he journey here , but no longer were they cucumbers , they were the same as me . I didn't like the new me , it was indescribable how i felt , but one word that I could use was angry . Not intentionaly but the vinager did something to us . Again we were being transported somewhere diffrent , but this time not in a wooden box nor in a truck , a clean jar with some sort of liquid in it , but this time the liquid didnt smell bad it smelt like every other pickle in the room , there was also a plant in it probaly dill. One by one we were put into the container , untill it was my turn , i tried to roll away but i had to controll of my body anymore , paralized forever .

I dived into the jar expect something interesting to happen . I thought this time for good I would be out in the open to see the world , but no life in a jar you can't see anything through the cloudy liquid. Alone in a jar , nothing to see and nothing to do . I descided to end this miserable trip . I closed my eyes a fell asleep , 'not to be disturbed' I thought as a drifted off to sleep.

My long slumber was rudly interupted when the sealed jar lid snapped open , a fork immersed itself into the jar and stabbed one of the pickles , then again and again untill there was only one pickle left. Me. Closer and closer the fork came , I tried to blink it all away but everytimeI opened my eyes it was closer. Soon it was close enough , its sharp points break my bumpy outter skin, I couldn't feel it , but I watched and imagined it. My eyes started getting heavy and my heart slowed down , I felt weak and my body was telling me to give up. I knew it was my time I could tell, this would be the end of my journey of becomeing a pickle. 'Goodbye' I said as I closed my eyes to rest of enternal sleep.

Be the same,

Being different. Focus on that, it's the only thing that will separate you in this world. Everything has changed now, being an individual was no longer excepted, we all have to be the same, be normal. Why the same? rebellion was happening people wern't excepted so things had to change. They made us change into people we were not, blonde hair becomes brown and clothes become gray and boring. We all spoke the same language, sang the same songs, read the same books, believed in the same religion, lived the same life. Everyone was hypnotized into believing, into thinking being the same was right. Well, I was different I couldn't be the same, I would never be the same. I had to live my life as a lie, behind closed doors I was me, the old me. The person who loved to be different, but very little time did i get to be me. Deep down, I can see in every one's eyes, that they want to be who they really are. Wishing they could go back in time and pause, to the way it used to be.

Under the lights of the dark street, I see what i see everyday. People, marching down the street in a direct line. Everyone with a straight face, not a smile in miles. Couldn't the government see we were suffering, we liked being diffrent, just let us work out our diffrences. As the march by I smell, the smell we were all forced to wear, the stench of it stung my nose. I had chosen to pay the price and smell like nothing, instead of the musky stink they call perfume. the same straight edge hair cut all those girls have, boy did I hate that hair cut, buzz cuts for the guys. All the buildings were the same, grey bricks with blue doors, if we wanted a hat it was a baseball cap of course grey. Life was diffrent then I wanted it to be, I couldn't describe my feelings for the day. I was never diffrent anymore, I never had fun anymore I sure miss the old days. But maybe relbelion will start again , maybe we can go back to being unique. I'm drifting off to sleep, and I understand that maybe I can be the same as everyone its time to except my fate

My street,

A small street to live on but full of many adventures and many good times, I can remember alot of amazing things that have happened all around my street. But lets just try and picture my street first, as you turn down the street of Parkveiw court you see many houses, plently too do on this street, a small forrest to adventure through and plenty of friendly people to socalize with. Theres my house with the white body and blue moldings, across the street would be Tyrel's house, I remember so many good times with him and his brother Dylan, me and my little sister would beat up Tyrel and his older brother in their front lawn. It was entertaining and very fun, I also remember playing in the forrest by my house with Jessica and my little sister and Tyrel and his brother came down and were throwing rocks at us. The forrest was possible the best thing to play in to pass time, me and my sister spent hours making forts and building traps down there, we would pretend we were stuck down there and try to survive.

In the forrest plenty on unforgetable things have happened. There was a tree swing, oh what joy that brought me and all my friends. Then of course there was the climbing tree, plenty of times I had come home with rips and tears in all my pants and shirts, I remember getting stuck up there for hours and hours, enjoying the veiw and yelling at the passers by. Hide and seek down there was one the best things to do, we would run around the dark depths of the forrest, crawling into every nook in every rock and climb up every tree. It was like a mission, thats how we would learn patients, stillness.

My next door neighbours would their baby blue house, I can always hear their large boxer barking and houling. I miss those days, when the boxer would freely run around the whole street, me and my sister sprinting after it for hours. We would sit on our fence and talk to their small children and soon be became great friends, they knew us and we became close, borrowing food items and things that are needed. Untill the dreaded day when on that for sale sign the was a sign that said sold, it was sad yes but all I could do was move on a forget.

Most of the people are our street were never really close, so when I wasnt with my friends the only person I could play with was my sister, that street is very important to me, and I would never want to move. I rememeber not haveing much toys when I was a child so I would just play with the grass and dirt and sticks, I learned to be creative, that I my street.

Better then your's,

It was silent, nothing to say nothing to do. The class was boring and the rain was pouring, all the students with a frown on their faces. I decided to break the silence "My sock is better then your sock!" that was my first out burst. AT first no one responded, they were confused by that random comment, but soon someone caught on.

"No my sock is deffinatly better then yours!" replied Alex.

"How so?" I questioned.

"Just look!" as she slipped off her shoe, "It has yellow and grey in stripe form. Nothing and I mean NOTHING can beat that" She remarked.

I smerked and responded with " Wow, that's it! My socks beat your by a long shot!" As a slipped of my shoe, and revealed my masterpeice "Look, lime green, yellow and purple, can you beat that?"

The class was shocked, why were we having a fight about a sock? I don't think I could answer that question. But it kept on going, the class was very amused by are silly little argument.

"Well, my socks are from Japan!" Boasted Alex flashing the tag on her sock.

"Think thats a big deal, mostly all my songs are made in Japan. But these, are made from twenty diffrent countrys!"

"What country's what might those be?" Asked Alex with a sinister smerk on her face.

" Names Unpronounceable" I was smileing after that remark.

We were having so much fun with this, smae with the class. We were making a great conversation out of socks. Alex has ran ou of things too say, I thought I was about to win the conversation . But then it happened.

"My socks are Asian!" Alex said after a long silence.

After that, I knew I just failed there, she knew that would always win, but then I thought of it. It was great I knew exactly what to say.

"Just to let you know, my socks came from all over Asia, so my socks are more Asian then yours." I had the biggest grin on my face.

Everyone around the class was confused. Asian has nothing to do with greatness. But in our minds it does. Our converstastions are usualy pointless but it's usaly great.