Unformatted text preview: but I had convinced myself that my
unhappiness was her doing.
I vowed that as soon as I was eighteen, I would never talk to my family again, I would make
them suffer through silence because they thought they knew what was best for me, and because I lived
under their house, I was imprisoned by their rules. This is why I am jealous of the character, Christopher
McCandless, in Into the Wild, because he had the guts to do what I never did. This boy called himself
Alexander Supertramp, and voyaged into the Alaskan wilderness immediately after his high school
graduation. With not a word to his parents, he went out and lived. Surviving off solely what the world
had to offer, and the kindness of a few passers by, he journeyed in order to find himself, to make
himself happy, to find the meaning of his existence.
He burned his remaining cash, abandoned his car,
shredded his social security card, eliminated all prior evidence of his existence, all just to prove to
himself that his life was his for the taking. Chris mainly preached that, “We like companionship, see, but
we can’t stand to be around people for very long. So we get ourselves lost, come back for a while, then
get the hell out again” (Into the Wild). In essence, there is not one other person that can make life more
fulfilling than you. Even more, he tries to prove that one can be completely happy in solitude - someone
can be completely in love with life without the need to share it with someone else. Though I find truth in Malloy 3
his declaration, I can also attest that sharing life’s adventures with others allowed me to grow and
prosper, gain knowledge and give advice, and make myself a more whole and happy soul. Now, Chris
goes to extreme lengths to prove his worth, but there is something so enticing about leaving the world
behind for awhile to prove self worth, independence, and meaning.
When I felt that my habitual lifestyle was the only way to live, I struggled endlessly to find
motivation to seek happiness from new experiences. As I arrived at school each morning, normally
early, I would find a quiet spot on campus to self indulge in my own pity. I felt sorry for myself, but
never did I think to go talk to people, or search to find positive outlets. I drowned my face in makeup,
and there was not one day where I didn’t hide under a hooded jacket and jeans. Samuel Beckett wrote
Waiting for Godot, a play about two men who spend their days waiting for a man named Godot.
While they’re waiting, they struggle to find the reason why they’re still hopeful that this man will
eventually come and change their lives for the better. Du...
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