<p>I was young but I remember exactly how I felt when I said goodbye to Joe, Tom, and Elmhurst; everything was over, as if I had divided by zero. My mom said that she wanted me to have the best education possible, but I wasn’t so sure. I was exiled to a house of wooden orgies encasing all of the rooms, and each hallway was like a vein in the intricate circulatory system stemming out little rooms that were of forestry origins as well. From the exterior it was a truly grand home that smelled of grand aspirations as well: the quaint wooden features, the gold-silk curtains, and the frictionless marble kitchen floor; but I was a stranger to everything, especially everyone that was now in my house; we were having a house-warming party and I was lamenting on my recent ascension into the unknown. I glided to the snack table and reluctantly ate what seemed to be a meat-clad sandwich so that I could fulfill my carnivorous fantasies, but it wasn’t; it was an eggplant sandwich! The eggplant fiasco ranks in my list of most treasonous acts; right below Benedict Arnold during the Revolutionary war. I grabbed the nearest Canadian Dry can to quell the incessant thumping of the insidious taste in my mouth, but it wasn’t ginger ale as I had hoped, it was seltzer. Nasty in a can. The background laughs only aggravated the taste in my mouth; I was grumpy and almost nothing could have said otherwise. I had left my best friends and everything I loved as a nine-year-old boy: the decayed movie theater, the PS 102 school playground, and all the unforgettable memories. I was stripped of those things sat with my furrowed eyebrows equivocating on the pros and cons of running away; however, that day would have a wonderful turn of events. A boy with a golden-bowl haircut walked systematically towards me; I didn’t notice him until he was inches away. He said “hello” to me, and in retrospect it was the greatest hello I had ever heard – this was of course before I saw Jerry Maguire. It was simply the most paradisiacal beginning of a friendship I could think of; I had I found Francois Rabelais’s “Great Perhaps” in a shy, freckled boy and I apologize to the U-Haul truck that I treated so odiously during the move. This event changed everything I knew; I missed my friends from Elmhurst, but I don’t ever regret leaving. I was able to discover through the vector of Sam that I wasn’t my environment; I had not found a pretentious society, but rather something genuine. I had made a discovery that trumped anything Columbus, Verrazano, and Magellan had ever found. This single event changed me into the optimist I am today; I now hope that good things will come despite how they may seem. I sincerely couldn’t even begin to think where I would be in the next ten years, but I can guarantee that I won’t be sitting on a couch eating a tub of ice cream – I will be out there looking for my next Great Perhaps.</p>
<p>Is my point too weak or not focused enough?</p>