How Can You Ever Trust Anyone?

The first day of 6th grade, I was shaking in fear, disliking everything about it. But after 3rd period, I realized it wasn’t too bad. The rest of the day went pretty smoothly and I was about to get one the bus when someone pushed me out of the way yelling, “Move it fatty!” When I got on the bus and found my assigned seat, I was frozen in fear to see that I was right in front of the kid that pushed me. His name was Luke. Luke was an 8th grader who was notorious for bullying the younger kids for his entertainment. “Looks like we got the fatty in front of us!” He yells to his friends as they crack up. I sit there ignoring them, feeling horrible. Luke leans forward and says, “Did you hear me, big boy?” I keep ignoring him as he continues to verbally

Our relationship began like very few relationships do, on Facebook. In June of 2009, after I had been accepted into a Fall 2009 freshman class, a boy said hello in a message and a 4-page paper could not even touch the surface of our relationship in those past 2 years, but I will do my best to explain as much as possible. Over the next few months, the

I felt my heartbeat rising every step I took as the blood rushed to the surface of my skin. My muscles tightened, beginning with my legs as if I could’ve ran fast enough to chase the truck. The image of the man and his words repeated many times in my mind, making me vulnerable to hatred. I thought I was doing something good and just. I was naïve. I thought everyone would gladly give us a helping hand. I looked at everyone around me, and I noticed it wasn’t just me that was burning with raged. I could see the anger in their eyes as they conversed with each other. It wasn’t until a loud voice snapped me out of it. “Do not show fear! Do not show anger! Our justice cannot break that easily!”

Fortunato and I had gone to school with each other long ago, though were never friends. He’d bully me for my stubbiness, as I were short and chubby unlike the other kids. He’s hurt me ever since that day. I was playing with the friends that I did have once and he had tripped me on purpose, resulting in breaking my ankle and leaving me with a permanent limp forever. When I was, a mere adolescent had my first girlfriend, Fortunato had stolen her from me, they’d gone to a ball together hoping I wouldn’t find out though I’d known long before they knew. I puked on her face, I wasn’t sure if it was on purpose or not know. I courted his sister hoping he knows I want to be in his family. We get married and he still doesn’t like me, I had a child with

It was the last last few days of summer before I started my Sophomore year of high school. My freshman year I applied and ran to be Sophomore class president, and I won. Before the start of school SGA (Student Government Association) had the responsibility to welcome and show new students around the school. While showing and bonding with new students I meet two new sophomores students named Ethan and Olivia. Ethan was a very attractive young man who was six feet and had nice dark hair, that was swooped to the right. Olivia on the other hand was a very short and pale girl who had orange hair that was very thin. Olivia and I both found Ethan to be attractive, Olivia made it known to me that she liked Ethan. It was the first day of school and

I find myself looking over my shoulder every time I step outside my front door. Violence has opened my eyes and destroyed my dreams of peace. When I first moved to Philadelphia from Puerto Rico, I moved into a neighborhood that was full of gangs and drugs. Philadelphia represented a new start, a chance for me to breathe again. I had experienced a tragic shooting right before my ten year old eyes in Puerto Rico; my mom’s best friend was killed, while the murderer calmly walked away. We escaped to Philadelphia, and I thought my days of witnessing horrific violence were over. However, my dreams were shattered like gunshots in the night. One day, while I was napping, I was awoken by a series of deafening pops. As soon as I heard them, I dropped

The weight of the decision physically consumes me, tearing me into pieces. Paranoid and violent, never attributes I’d proudly claim, yet drilled into me fundamentally as a result of this new world. I hate it. With the love of my life breathing heavily just behind me, my desperation to eliminate any threat rapidly grows. I wiped the sweat from my brow with a shaking hand, panic coursing through veins.

I walked inside the house that I smells of cigarettes and old mops. The house that I should call home. Instead, i’m walking inside a house filled with people who hate me for no obvious reason. The two people who should love me unconditionally are the main ones who cause me pain. I just want them to love me. I don’t want them to beat me, yell at me for no reason, or break my heart. I thought parents were supposed to keep you happy. I guess I wasn’t blessed with parents like that.

Throughout the years that I lived in, there has been many bad things happening to me. The only bad thing that I give thanks to were the time when my dad would spank me for very good reasons. At the time I would be crying and hoping he wouldn’t but they were well deserved. With every spank it hurt, I know that, but later on with every mark I had I knew that pain is temporary it may last for a minute or an hour or a day even a year but eventually it will subside and something else will take it’s place. While that something is getting back it’s time to come back stronger and better because of it and I’m showing that the world is not a happy and peaceful place no it’s a mean and nasty place and it will beat you on your knees if you let it. I have shown that it hasn’t beat’n me from all the hits it has given me, I was able to look up and get up from that situation because it’s not how hard you hit the world it’s how hard you can get hit and keep moving forward how much pressure you can take and keep moving forward.

Fear itself is seldom a cause of trauma in everyday existence, but having to face close-range interpersonal aggression is a traumatic experience of an entirely different magnitude (Grossman). During the initial outbreak of terror while everyone is scrambling to save his or her own life, survival mode kicks in and an individual starts to plan on saving one’s self. The need to be a powerful motivator drives an average person to do what any normal person would consider unthinkable. Abandoning monsters plaguing the entire world, helping others in need, or deciding to save one’s self is a decision that will be made. The decision to save one’s own life will bring a person to question his own humanity while discovering the benefits of self-

He’s admired me since we were in Level Three. Plus, since he’s two years older than everyone else so he’d always been bigger and more intimidating and poor me became his the victim of his affection. He was really sweet for the first few weeks. I was probably only twelve and while I am tall for my age, I weighed little to nothing, and he always stood taller. He’d help me reach for books in the library, he’d offer to carry my things, and then things slowly got worse. He’d grab ahold of my hand or wrist and pull me along, no matter how hard I fought. He’d stalk me as I’d walk home, and on the last day of school everyone was invited to the big bonfire that was being held. Of course I went. I might not have been a social butterfly, but bonfires were rare, and I was obsessed with the

On a crisp early morning in November I walked to my first class of the day, a student in a dark green sweater ran past me, while I thought nothing of it what I did not know was that he had just stabbed four people. I turned around as two officers in plain clothes chased him and I looked on in confusion as the assailant was abruptly shot and killed. It is often easy to forget the everyday emotions and feelings of the people around us, even more so when these sensations are recounted on the evening news or a few sheets of paper on (of?) a patient's chart. In the weeks that followed that unfortunate event, I searched for some meaning, some way to move on or possibly grow. I found that I could appreciate the depth and significance of each person

The pained expression on his face gave me a start. Not the expression itself, I’d seen him make that face plenty of times—usually for something I did. But this time he was actually worried about me.

The cold steel refreshed my hand as I grasped the handle to enter the phone booth. Inside laid the payphone sitting silent in the claustrophobic room. It had always trapped me when I entered, and created an atmosphere of a jail cell. Luckily, my reason for entering always masked that imaginary environment because it was to connect with others and not to be left alone. Although, on that typical sticky warm Florida afternoon the jail cell surfaced and I felt like there was no escape. I was a prisoner in my own mind; being beaten up by regret and taunted by sorrow. But, as my tears fell and my mind continued to race with grief I grew stronger and my morals shifted molding me along with them. That phone call that day changed my outlook on life

I’d learned about how many people commit suicide and how many people do and grow drugs illegally. I’d heard about how many countries despise each other and continue to bomb and threaten each other throughout every day. That’s when I realized that the world we live in is so tortured and broken so badly that we will never be able to fix it. When I walk down the halls and hear cuss words being said left and right, when I watch the news and see all of the terrorist attacks, that’s when I remember how messed up society is now. It’s a reality check that life isn’t what it seems or what we want it to be. Reality today is beyond frustrating considering that we’ve messed it up so terribly that we can’t do anything about it. Back when I’d lost my unknowing and transparent mind, I couldn’t comprehend if it was for worse or for better, and I still can’t now. Is it better to not know about the horrid life beyond my city and street, or is it better to continue to believe that the world around me is all “rainbows and butterflies?” Neither is good, but which is less dreadful.