Expository (Ref to Street Car Named Desire) Essay

“Whose Reality? ” I have chosen to write an imaginative piece in the form of an essay for publication in a year 12 collection of essays on “whose reality? ” with particular reference to “A streetcar named desire” and also drawing upon the text “eternal love” and personal anecdotes in order to connect to the issue of reality being hurtful. The collection’s intended audience is teachers and students of year 12 English. My purpose will be to consider the central issue of the prompt, namely, how reality hurts others and the ensuing consequences.

I will focus mainly on Stanley’s and Blanche’s sense of reality and how it effects themselves with examples from the text “A streetcar named desire” to how what can happen if individuals such as Stanley and Blanche can be effected by there view on the world and how it operates. I will also consider this prompt in a broader global context with reference to social issues such as, binge drinking, and mental issues. I will try to keep to the third person voice, this way my essay is intended to be a balanced and reflective piece, moderate in tone but also authoritative.

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Because my audience is adult, I will attempt to use a sophisticated vocabulary with strong topic sentences. Quiet, quiet is the house of old Mr Helms. The old wooden blinds lightly tap on the wall while swaying in the light breeze, littering the air with dust and disturbing the moths and flies resting on the windowsill, spiders hang in webs above the old wooden bed, there is also a strange smell that lurks around the small 2 roomed house. Mr Helms sits silently in his old rocking chair which expels a painful creak as he slowly rocks.

Little light is allowed to slip through the dusty wooden blinds, this is due to the fact that mr Helms is a private man who doesn’t like people seeing in to his two roomed house, his kingdom, so the blinds stay closed. This dark, dusty house provides shelter from the outside world, from reality, for mr Helms this is comforting because he hates relying on the kindness of strangers, willing to provide a helping hand. Helms is the King of this house and that’s just what he needs, he needs to know he can cope by himself and without help from his ‘acquaintances’.

After all he’s use to being alone, hes been lonely his whole life by first serving in the army as an engineer, in fact the only time he wasn’t alone was when he was happily married, and had a queen to satisfy his every need. After his wife past away, everything went quiet again. Since that time Helms has grown old and weary, he’s barely able to look after himself, yet still declines offers of help from strangers. His old bones crack as he pulls himself off the rocking chair which releases one last creak as Helms begins towards the cupboard.

His fingers begin to tremble as he reaches up and into the old wooden cupboard, after a brief second of panic Helms is relieved to find the bottle he was so desperately searching for. This bottle contained a mix of seven of his favourite beverages; he calls it the seven card stud. All he wants is one shot, but always convinces himself to have a couple more, after all he created the drink hoping for a bit of magic in his quiet live, to escape from reality even more, he trys his absolute hardest not to touch it, but unfortunately it touches him often.

Mr Helms knows he had a drinking problem but it makes him feel young and forget about the exterior world. 6 shots later Helms feels young again, the cobwebs disappear with the spiders and the dust evaporates, the drink sends him into an altered state of consciousness where he losses the ability to control himself or control his cognitive functions, the magic comes to life as he feels happy again, just how he was with his wife.

In a drunken high mr Helms stumbles over to the blinds which have been shielding reality and rips them down. The sunlight hits Helm’s wrinkled face which blinds and dazes him, causing him to stagger backwards and, but after a few seconds he has recovered and jumps back to the window with a weathered smile across his old face. Neighbouring kids and all amazed to see grumpy mr Helms dancing around with an athletic ease, with this new found energy, and a bit of magic, mr Helms starts to see the world more positively and happier.

But slowly his old wrinkled shell catches up with him, as he begins to ache and hurt both mentally and physically the cobwebs, spiders and dust all return. The entire seven card stud is depleted and with that, he begins thinking about his past mistakes and his current useless body, the world and reality becomes darker and darker. Frustrated about his past, mr Helms slips into his silk pyjamas and rolls into bed with a irritated moan.

As he is lying in bed he reminisces about the days when he was independent, successful and happy and then discovers that reality has caught up to him, his own subjective belief that he was the best and the world was his for the taking has turn into a cold, dark miserable look on himself, which in return is shaping reality in a negative way, his own fears and past desires are corrupting his view on reality and himself.

Helms realises that everything hes thinking is true, he will never be able to experience enduring love or escape the dark reality hes created and with a low exhale a tear rolls slowly down his face. The tear drops from Helms face and hits the white, clean floor. There are no spiders, no moths or cobwebs, just white. The room is bright and the only thing that is in this small room is a white, neatly presented, metal framed bed. Mr Helms wasn’t wearing his usual old baggy clothes but instead was wearing a full white overall with the numbers “25335” sewn on the chest.

Silence fills the room as Helms stumbles his words while shouting that hes sick of people not believing him. Helms is sick of people asking him the same question everyday, but he still lies, he still says that he wasn’t responsible for the death of his wife, but theres not really any point lying anyway because no one believes him. Even he doesn’t know what’s fully real anymore, so instead he sits in the white room silently. Quiet, quiet is the cell of psychiatric patient 25335


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