8.45 A. M Personal Narrative

It is I, Punxsutawney Phil, the groundhog for Groundhogs Day! I myself have been called a marmot. Which is a type of rodent, my closest relative is a squirrel, I know we don’t even look alike at all or do we? I question myself that all the time, because I don’t go up to a mirror and check myself out. Well anyways, I usually do is eat, and eat over and over again. It is my favorite thing to do that and to sleep, where I can eat again. For my birthday it’s not very important to people, it’s actually whenever I get scared to death or not, called Groundhog Day.

After a long day of working to keep my mind busy, I stumbled into my dark, cold, and uninviting living quarters of this cramped, glass clean oxygen bubble they call a “home”. Even though this place keeps the people that were evacuated safely from that lethal, disease infested, and haunting gas cloud waiting to strike on the outside, it doesn’t help ease the pain and terminate what my brain forges in my head with every breath I take. Every day I vented to myself how different my life has become. I can’t seem to fill the void that I hold in my soul and I feel like the guilt I hold will slowly rot away anything that brings me joy. Luckily for my soul, I’m tired of keeping it on the inside and if I'm going to preserve what little happiness I have

I could feel the breeze skim through my hair as my loose shirt caught the brisk air behind me. This was my sanctuary, the feeling was bliss. I made my way home, bracing myself for the approaching argument I was about to have with my mother. That feeling of pleasure left my body as quickly as it arrived. I stepped into the front door, and closed it behind me as quietly as I could, maybe she wouldn't notice I was late home. But before I could even take the first few steps inside, I heard mum coming from the kitchen,

Twas the night before track meet day. My parents and I proceeded to Dick’s Sporting Goods and we purchased state of the art bright baby blue spikes. I was joyous to use them to run the 100 meter sprint the next day. I would finally be able to make my time faster. The next day approaches and I can’t contain my excitement. The whole time at school all I can think about is the race. School ends and I embody race mode.

7This is the first year of my existence I'm 30.5 inches tall and weigh roughly 30 pounds. Considering this a time where my cognitivity is at a bare minimum i have no memory of this time just stories told by those around me. You know how most kids don't talk until they are about Two years of age well i was a very quick learner i was spitting out babble and even full sentences before i could walk but that didn't take very long either. Although i seem extravagant i'm truly just a normal kid. I'm from savannah Georgia. I did typical things like cry, poop, pee, etc. I went to disney and all the other places little kids go.

As I was sleeping throughout the winter, I knew that it was almost time for Groundhog’s Day. This man with black gloves got me real gingerly and started heading toward a big cage. I knew that we were heading somewhere as soon as the car took off. I decided to go to sleep, and when we got there I woke up wondering where I was. I started to abrasion my head against the cage when all of a sudden I saw someone grabbing the cage. I was so scared that he was going to drop me as we were heading up the steps.

My 20time is on running. In sixth grade I tried out for track, hoping I will be fast enough and would make it. But it didn't turn out that way. It was at lunch with all my friends when I checked the track website and didn't see the name, Carly Jakob, on the list. I was so shocked i started bawling my eyes out. After this traumatizing day I made a goal that I will make the track team when i'm in eighth grade. To do this I knew I had to make many drastic changes. I changed my diet to proper eating habits, and learned facts about form and technique that would help me get through the horrifying try outs and right onto the team.

  Leaving for basic training was the most nerve racking thing I have ever been through. I already knew about the physical and emotional difficulties I would encounter going off to boot camp, but there was one thing that no one really informed me about that worried me, the food. Everyone I spoke to had their own stories about what I would or would not be eating, but no two stories seemed to add up. Needless to say, walking into that dining hall I expected to see, or at least smell, manure on a plate. However, to my pleasant surprise, all of the different but amazing aromas in there gave me joy. When I actually saw what was on the menu, my day got that much better. In basic training those were

Twenty-six years ago I a 17-year-old boy joined the United States Army. I served my country faithfully for 22 years, two months and four days; I served in the Transportation Corps. My time in the army was a special period in my life. I gain a lot of life experiences as well as professional ones; the military shaped and molded me into the husband, father son, and brother that I am today. During my service, I grew up and learned several life lessons that would serve me well in and out of the army. To get a real understand on how the military shaped me into the person, I am today; I must first give you some insight into the person I was before I left for basic training. I graduated high school in 1991 just four months’ shy of my 18th birthday;

I have distinguished myself entirely from my household, because in my transformation I am separated from them, mostly by neglect and abuse, and because I have convinced myself of the truth—that perhaps it was better this way for them and me. Throughout this time, I have come to realize what matters most—that is, caring about myself for once and nourishing my needs. I now remember the time when my mother and sister decided to remove some of the furniture in my room, and how deeply distressed I was then and after. The reason being, those were the only possessions I had left of my old life and they were the only things that

Five AM strikes and my alarm screams, along with every fiber in my body to not get out of that semi comfortable bed. Anything is comfortable when you're waking up at five AM though. I roll over to my side and prop myself up at the end of the bed. Ethan my kiwi roommate's alarm is going off in succession with my alarm. We look at each other and silently give each other the same look. breaking the silence i ask him what i know he's about to ask me, “Do you really want to go through with this. Five AM is way too early to be up.” He respond with, “Yeah it sucks getting up this early, but trust me it will all be worth it.” We stumble out of our small bedroom with 2 bunk beds in it. Both bunks are only filled with two occupants. Technically our room

Approaching, gliding my hand over the warm hood of the engine, feeling the texture of the minutely grainy forest green paint against my fingers tip, thinking “Hello my friend “. Stepping back, admiring the impeccable hand-crafted machine with tinted windows that are almost as dark as the midnight sky, with 15-inch tires and black stretch free rims. Clicking that rubber button to unlock the dent free door, it greets me with a loud honking two beeps. Climbing into the soft black leather driver’s seat, I am washed into that familiar feeling- a warm hug from an old friend. I began to tingle with excitement and the anticipation of what new adventures could await. Being inside feels like being in a different world. My imagination starts to wonder

Mid summer of 2012 I met my best friend, hes some kind of wonderful. His smile can light up any moment, his eyes are like a piercing radiance surrounded by long, deep, dark brown lashes. So tall and muscular, always ready to stand his grounds or stand up for a loved one; meanwhile, a big teddy bear behind closed doors. He is unexplainable in a way, I could go on for days and he still wouldn’t be clear enough. I moved in with this man within just a few days of being introduced to him. During the big summer storm when everyone’s power was out for at least two weeks, I had no clean clothes, no way to wash my clothes, no way to shower other than to wash off the best I could, no alarm clock for work, and the list could go on. Neal Bonecutter was introduced to me by the bartender Kristie (mutual friend) at Mizway. I already know everyone has heard””

Shortly after I moved in, his house was chaos: food rotting on the floor, dirty clothes piled on the kitchen table, hidden dog feces under the couch. That was when I realized that my mother had a well-founded reason for choosing to divorce him. But the issue ran much deeper than a mucky house. My father always locked his bedroom door behind him and only he had the key. Naturally, this secrecy began to eat at me; I was never allowed in his room, he left the house for days at a time, and sometimes when he'd come home he would ask me to stay the night with a friend. One day I came home from school and found the door to be ajar. The room was darkened by black-out curtains and like the other parts of the house, it looked like a bomb had hit it. Scattered on top of the dresser were clear crystals, a couple silver spoons, and a lighter. I was deeply disturbed by what I saw but it also gave me a sense of relief to know the facts and what causes his behavior. Soon after, I decided to live with my mom and my

I clinch my bedsheets as the shots sound one, then another, then another. Strangely, I am still alarmed at the gunshots after thirteen years of living here. Walter, my cat, jumps into my lap, slightly twitching as he walks over and across the trash surrounding my mattress. I shove him out of the way and lift my body forward, the streaks of sore pulsing pain into every nerve in my body. I kick my way through an Elmo toy, pieces of paper, and my only pair of shoes. Nearing to the bathroom, I lift my only real possession, my Bible, from underneath my mattress. I swing open the door and start my daily hygienic process: a washing and drying with paper towels and small bar of soap I stole from the convenience store down the street. I look into the mirror. If only I had lighter skin, someone one would care for me as their own. The alarm of my phone triggers a sense of anxiety as I now realize it’s three minutes before the bus arrives. I quickly slide on my shirt,