Appropriate-Personal Narrative

Like any five-year-old, I burst into tears. Her words kept echoing in my head continuously. Well, I don't! Well, I don't! Well, I don't! What have I done? All this time, I had thought that Amy liked amusement parks and told her to come with us. But the only reason why she came was because I was her friend, not because she liked them. The minute we were at Six Flags, she got angry at me for bringing her to a place she didn't like. It seemed to me like a place she disliked with all her heart.

My first day of the second grade, I knew no one except the teacher and my younger brother. Kindergarten and first grade had been easy enough, but I was scared of the upcoming year. The only thing I knew about being the new kid was that it hadn’t panned out too great for Addie from the American Girl books. Mrs. Henson’s class was fairly quiet throughout the day, for most kids were nervous or tired. We neared the end of the day and I was ecstatic over the fact that hadn’t made a complete fool of myself. I hadn’t met anyone yet, but I thought that that would be a challenge for another day. Unfortunately, that’s not what Mrs. Henson had in mind. She sent us all out to recess with a grin plastered on her face and with me practically kicking

The morning was foggy and I could see the front of my school through my window. It was a nice sight to see. I walked into the kitchen to make myself a bowl of cereal and there she was with her head down on the table. I could tell that she arrived a couple of hours ago because the tears hadn’t dried from her cheeks yet. I got myself ready gave her a kiss on her forehead and headed off to school. I had walked into class eager to see what my teacher Mrs. Padron had in store for today. Every single day there was something new to learn and there’s something about that infinite nature of learning that really appealed to me as a child. I cherished those 7 hours I spent in class the most I could and I dreaded the mere thought of having to go home where I would have to face the

The five-minute warning bell goes off. I rush to my first class of my junior year, eager to see my classmates, who I was going to spend the rest of the 9 months with. I find myself stumbling into a classroom plastered with decorations of Denzel Washington with a Dr. Seuss book in his hand, a t and college flags galore. My AP English 11 class suddenly seemed so appealing to me. As a beautiful, curly haired short lady stood in front of me and said “Welcome to AP English 11,” I knew that I had found a treasure so much greater than just a pretty classroom. Little did I know, that short lady was going to inspire me throughout my challenge filled second-to-last year of high school.

I was in the middle school, so was this girl. This petite, quiet, studious Asian girl. All I knew about her was that she was in my class as I was in hers, and that she lived down the street from me. “She is such a suck up!” I kept thinking to myself. I wanted to be my favorite teacher’s favorite student. However, this was difficult at the time because I was young, competitive, and selfish. Before I knew it, this girl was doing all of the errands for my favorite teacher. I was not happy about this. Two years fly by, I had never held a conversation with this young girl who had been the “teacher’s pet” back in sixth grade. However, when eighth grade rolled around, I was assigned to sit next to this petite, quiet, studious Asian girl in my history class. After about a week or so into school, I began to find myself conversing with her everyday, uncontrollably laughing with her about everything, and walking home from school with her being that she was my next door neighbor. I had judged this girl from her physical appearance because of what I had thought I knew about Asian people in society from the way society had generally treated them. I found out that this petite, quiet, studious Asian girl who was that snobby, stuck up, teacher’s pet was no where near the person that she truly is. She is not quiet, nor snobby, nor stuck up, but she is my best

That was a lot of money, and I didnt want to let Tony down so I got in the car and started to drive. As I drove the road was empty. I had confidence I was not going o get caught. It was a slightly wormer day out witch might have been because the sun was out. I had the windows down and was blaring music just trying to enjoy life when a cop pulls out behind me.

She put her lunch tray on the table, plopped her backpack on the floor, and sat down across from me. She started to eat the mac and cheese on her plate (51).” When Auggie was hurt he clung to the only people he knew were true friends to him. He is lucky to have Summer, having a Summer in high school would have meant everything to me, as it does to Auggie. Summer saw Auggie for who he truly was, she did not see just his difference she saw him. She saw how smart he was, how nice he was to her. She saw his humor and his pain, she just wanted to be the best person she could be for him and that was a friend. A friend is something you should never take for granted. Someone to lean on, to confess to, and to be silly with. I never had friends like that. My friends talked behind my back to my sister about me, telling her how annoying I was or they couldn’t understand why I thought the way I did. They told my sister not to let me go to a certain college so they didn’t have to “take care” of me for four more years. I didn’t have friends in high school, I had acquaintances, because I was different. The people in my life never even said bye to me when I left for college that is when I started to truly see how I was treated. It took me until I went away to college to find someone like Summer. To find someone who would constantly be there for me whenever I need them and to laugh

My story begins when my mom and I moved from Crafton, near Pittsburgh, to my grandparents’ house in Schwenksville at the beginning of first grade. In Crafton, there were not a lot children in my neighborhood; therefore, my wonderful mother and heart rending loneliness were my only friends. Fortunately, in my grandparent’s huge neighborhood, there were three amazing girls that became my best friends. However, those girls were not enough to combat my loneliness. At times these girls were mean to me, but my caring mother was there to lift my spirits. My mother was understanding and always knew what to say when I was lonely. As the story continues my life will hit an unexpected turn when I accepted a last minute invitation from a friend to attend

12 years ago, Gina and I had first met at a fateful Daisy Scout meeting—but 7th grade was when we ecstatically joined the photography club and bonded over photoshoots of the snowy soccer field, daisy bouquets, and the town’s architecture. Freshman year, she persuaded me to join the tennis team with her, and from the experience, I've grown to love the sport and even make friends at Shelton. Finally, in our shared classes like APUSH, we had a blast recording an 80s mixtape for our final exam project. Our friendship is symbiotic—I teach her trickier concepts while she pushes me to loosen up and say what’s on my mind. Before junior year when I moved to a different town and high school, we promised to stay close and meet up every month. Although

They are a family of ten with only one young girl left unmarried. The girl’s name is Anna Daventry, and she is the same age as me. I work as Anna’s personal maid, and I hope that this time I don’t ruin everything. A few days later I burnt her clothes while ironing. When I told her I thought for sure she would be mad at me, but she just shrugged and said that everyone makes mistakes. It was then I knew then that weI would be great friends. After 8 months I knew that I had to go home to my family. Though I hated it I told Anna that I had to leave, but I promised her that I would write as often as I could.

Her tears streamed down her face like rain drops on a window. I did not care to ask why, I was over it, and it grew on me, there was never a day where she was not crying. At my school she is known as the “kidult”, someone who refuses to grow up and never does anything on her own. I never got to know her, and I didn’t want to, I think she would be too fragile for my liking, her attitude resembled an egg. She’s just on her own, she never even tried to talk to me like everyone else, she can stay alone for all I care I’ve got my own things to worry about, like I said I don’t like to gossip or be mean or

I haven’t seen the movie “Justified”. But, if you like Bourbon, then you need to go to the basement tavern in the Miller House in Owensboro. They have fabulous bands as well. Check it out online. I have a cat (MAX) and have many for years. This is my last go around…..no matter how my girls flutter their eyes. He is left from my youngest daughter’s attempt of starting her first business, a cattery raising Maine Coon cats, to pay for her college. Yep, she is creative and a tad lazy; I guess that makes me a tad crazy for agreeing.

She could tell me a five page essay on her mother and then find a switch in her mind to talk about how she’s carried her own stick her whole life and how it’s only made her into the woman she is today. I’ve never seen her break about anything except when she talks about her mother. There was a time I’ve seen her at her weakest and strongest. A time I’ve never seen such a vulnerable array of feelings that captured who she was. Three years ago, her father had told her that she was going to meet her mother for the first time since she’s left and I vividly remember everything that happened. She had called me and her trembling voice quivered over the phone as she ranted on about her mother and what she had to wear and what to say. I remember the texts and the woman that came to pick her up. She was everything all at once, like being haunted by a nightmare and seeing that nightmare in real life. But to make matters even worse, it turned out that that wasn’t her mother. It was her aunt. Her mother wasn’t ready. “I don’t think she’ll ever be ready.” she had muttered this to me barely managing to hold back her tears over the miniscule FaceTime call and I honestly believe that I was in more pain and rage than she was. She first shared this with me in fifth grade. I remember just wanting to find her mother for her and in my naive state of mind, I thought I could do it for the longest time. But she accepted it and I had to as

When I was in kindergarten, I met my best friend. She was very shy at first and nothing about her seemed malicious. However, as the years went by, she became very imperious and unwilling to share anything, including friends. She wouldn’t allow me to befriend any other people without putting up a fight. However, she was allowed all the friends she pleased. Over the years she began to push everyone apart so that she was the common area between a bunch of enemies. Eventually, she and I began to argue over petty things and she would always make me feel as if I did something wrong. A massive argument then arose and I began to lose hope for our friendship because even though she was using me, I was oblivious at the time. The fight did separate us, and I was quite somber about the situation. However, this was when I realized all the things she had been doing wrong; all the things that I was better off without. The ending of our friendship for this period of time allowed me to reach this epiphany that I was my own person able to have my own friends, able to make my own decisions, able to be happy about my accomplishments. This sudden realization lifted the doleful weight from my shoulders, allowing me to become a much happier person with a new outlook on my life. Like I stated before, sometimes it takes us until we reach our lowest point to realize the journey that awaits, to regain the hope and strength that was lost

Jean has been a friend of mine that I met in August 1996 when we met in high school. She was a grade younger than me, but had a January birthday so we were only 7 months apart. We became friends quickly despite our different personality traits. I was quite yet outgoing and Jean was lively and animated. People wondered how we could be so opposite, yet great friends. Our friendship continued to grow and we became best friends. Throughout the years we talked about her relationships and my relationships. We trusted each other with private issues that we would not tell anyone else. Our communication was very open, honest and transparent. As Jean was entering college at a different university than me, she struggled with her father falling ill and sadly passing away. This was an extremely hard time for Jean to finish her undergraduate degree, but Jean pressed on to its completion.