Avarice pervades D.H. Lawrence’s “The Rocking-Horse Winner”#, a short story about a poverty stricken family that attains luck through the prophetic son Paul.

I’m a fucking genius. But really, I love my first sentence!
Time to make the rest of my essay just as grand… 

I used to be everything. Everything on accident when i was so sad senior year of highschool. The only one to get an A + on Mrs Chaids 12 page essay that she gave me extra credit for A++, and kept it for future illustrations. Adlers class who i hated so much, but he taught me so much and pushed my limits. That i loved in the end. & saying goodbye was hard, because that class taught me so much about myself, life. I can’t forget thinking i was failing that class with at least a D and i got my paper back and i’m the only one who had an A in that class. Call me lucky, call it a coincidence but it felt really good. Lemcos. Who i had for 2 years prior. A witty ass teacher who was brilliant. I could hear him talk all day about greek mythology.The one who took away my gingerbread shaped cookies around December when i was eating during class. Who also gave me a hard time. But taught me how to become a even better writer. He was the reason i won that $300 scholarship check i did in 10 minutes in multimedia during lunch. Multimedia with Mrs dodge. For teaching me life. That art’s beautiful. A living. Passion. To be the only one to give me a portrayal. To be okay. For being the class i hung out in when i couldn’t stand fake friends sadness, and useless dumb drama. For that mixed tape of music. For being myself. For accepting my love of creativity. For hating computers with a passion. For being that much more open minded. And all of those things made me who i am today. Those were the days of my struggle. I didn’t try either. I was a mess that year. I fumbled my way into not knowing i was worth more. To have people tell me i had something special and not settle for less. For me changing so completely after highschool.

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