Writing Assignment 6, Draft 2 (Final)

Hello, my name is Mitchell Samson. I grew up in an up-scale neighborhood with my two parents and a sister named Georgia. During my childhood, I was spoiled. Spoiled rotten. Father is a lawyer, and Mother is a doctor, so they had quite of bit of money to spend on me. Georgia and I were always straight A students in high school, and now at university. I am currently enrolled at Yale University, and my sister at Harvard University. You could say we are the perfect family. You're right. Looking in from the outside inside out, we are indeed the perfect family. But when one reaches perfection, what do you strive to achieve from that point forward? Well, that's what led me here. To Brooklyn, New York. I decided I need to take a trip. A trip, in the name of imperfection.

Although my parents are wealthy, they don't just hand everything to me. I earned my way into a great university, and they expect me to earn my own money as well. Because my wallet is a little dry during the school year, I opted to take the bus instead of a plane. I sat down, and was there only a few minutes before what looked like a homeless women sat down beside me. She has several large bags with her and her clothes were dirty and worn. As she sat down, her eyes glazed over me like I was a hot honey bun. Women have never really be interested in me. And frankly, I wasn't interested in them, I've always been focused on my studies. But when she looked at me that way, I wondered why? Why would she choose me to sit next to? As she locked her eyes on mine, I couldn't help but attempt to stare into her soul. Although her hair was thin and looked as if it had not been washed in months, and her face looked tired and dirty, I saw before me the most beautiful women my twenty one year old eyes had ever seen. I welcomed her with an awkward smile, not really knowing what else to do. She smiled back, and my stomach felt as if it had small mammals crawling around inside of it.

I was too shy to say anything, and I believe she sensed my inexeperience. She introduced herself, her name: Rachel. I told her mine. My intentions for my trip to New York were not exactly clear, but when I heard her voice, they immediatly become crystal. As we started conversation, I tried to plan a way to go with her to wherever she was going, because I really had no idea which direction I would travel after stepping off the bus. When she spoke, my heart skipped beats. Was I having a heart attack? I've heard people speak of this phenomenon before when talking about being in love. Was I in love? Was this love at first sight?

I made the bold move of asking her where she lived. She told me she lived on Forty-fourth Street. Forty-fourth Street was now my destination. We continued talking until our eyes awkwardly met again. Her deep brown eyes were trying to tell me something. But what? They never teach you the language of love in high school or college. I ask her what she plans to do when she gets off the bus. To my surprise, she tells me just what the animals in my stomach want to hear. "Well I was hoping you'd follow me back to where I'm headed." I was ecstatic! Rachel was the first women to ever ask me back to her place! I don't recall most of the rest of the conversation until we got off the bus, but I do remember the sensation that shocked my entire body when, as we were stepping off the bus, Rachel gently took my head, and started leading me to Forty-fourth Street.

It was a long walk to where she lived. She held hands the whole way, and that was fine by me. When she stopped walking, I took in the scene around me. Graffiti. EVERWHERE. This, was truly imperfection. Rachel noticed my grapefruit sized eyes and smiled. "Why don't you take a picture, it'll last longer," she said. That's right! My camera! I take it out of my fanny pack, hearing a giggle behind me. I snap a picture of the graffiti that says "fatty" on it. As I turn around, I see Rachel unrolling a sleeping bag next to some trash cans. I almost forgot she was homeless. She invites me to sit next to her. My instinct tells me to put my arm around her, so I do. I feel like I've known her my whole life. As I look around at the other homeless people across the street, at the cars driving past, at the amazing women beside me, I start to realize. I realize that what seems like imperfection is really the only thing I ever needed.