the evolution of "who am i"

these are articles from my english1 class last sem...

this is the first draft:

THE CONFESSIONS OF AN ANGEL As the larger hands of the clock pointed 5 and the little one was between 1 and 2, a sudden force grabbed me down. It felt like falling into a very deep abyss. I was getting frightened when suddenly a voice vibrated in my mind. “I expect that this is your first assignment? Don’t be afraid my little one, you can do it.” Then it became silent another second passed and I heard a soft cry of a baby. I looked around and saw a tiny girl. She’s beautiful isn’t she?” asks the man beside me. I wondered why this man could see me but soon I realized that he was not human. I agreed to what he said. “Please take very good care of her. I couldn’t bear to make her mother grieve again. You’re her guardian angel right? ” said the man “I’m Henry, your ward’s father.” I said yes to all of his questions. Yes I am Shalimar’s guardian angel! You could call her Mai, Shang, Shali, Shammy, Mayyang or Shenree if you like. I like to call her Henree. It reminds me of the man who pleaded me to take very good care of her eighteen years ago. I am not here to tell you her life story because I wasn’t around her all her life (come on even angels need rest right?). I am here to tell you who she is or better yet, my point of view on who she really is. I’m surprised with her actually. She came out quite happy even though she had a strange childhood. She doesn’t want her friends and the people around her to be sad so she would crack their funny bones with her gags. She would always be laughing. Her laugh is so innocent and fun that people just guffaw with her. She loves having people with her. She doesn’t want to be alone. I think she is too dependent in other people that being alone could kill her. It always worries me when she’s alone. One time, I saw the sadness in her eyes when she saw her classmates with their fathers. I’ll always remember that day when she shrugged off that jealous feeling and acted like nothing’s wrong. It breaks my heart to see her in that state. That’s why she doesn’t want to be alone; she doesn’t want to wallow in her own misery. Henree is a very remarkable girl. She uses the mask of laughter to hide her painful tears. A feeling suppressed and purged to the deepest chambers of her heart. She has been always helped by her family. She wouldn’t have survived if not for her them, especially her mother who brought her up the best way she know how. She is very lucky and blessed to have her. I have described Henree the truest way I know how. I hope one day she would take off her mask and feel the warm sunshine in her face again.

these is the second draft:

MASQUERADE Shamed, humiliated, embarrassed, horrified and affronted. That’s what I should be feeling right now after our professor criticized my work. However, I am not even slightly affected by these criticisms, why is this so? I’ve always been like this, not caring for anything to do with my own well being. I just want to think about what I want to think about (does that even make sense at all?). I care for one thing though, -- happiness. Sir was actually right when he said that I am a comic person. He’s really good (sucking up aside), he can see the real person beneath the lines. Loneliness is a fatal word for me. It kills me whenever there’s nobody to be or laugh with. My father passed away fifteen days before I was born. He never got to see me and vice versa. Although, I’ve seen their wedding videos and other pictures, it was not the same. It felt like I’m seeing a picture of a stranger. To utter Papa, Daddy or Father was the strangest sensation when I was young. Those words where to distant, to unfamiliar and to weird. Jealousy was a close word though. It was always there haunting me whenever the second Sunday of June approaches or the school has a family event or the evening before Christmas. I would dread the days when our English and Filipino teacher would require us to make a “Happy father’s day” card to our fathers. My classmates would be ecstatic about creating the card. They would be thanking their fathers about what they have bought for them. I would be there staring at the ceiling wondering what to write. What has my father done to make happy? Nothing!!! Sometimes I would cry but oftentimes I would construct a meaningless card. Seeing my classmates with their fathers makes my eyes water, but I would never let those tears come out of my eyes. I shrug them of like the way I shrug of that jealous feeling. In the outside people see me as a very happy girl, a girl who’s always laughing. I wear the mask of laughter to hide my painful tears. A feeling suppressed and purged to the deepest chambers of my heart.