How I Constantly Define Myself Through The Failures

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!”

I woke up at 7AM to continuous, banging on the front door. Next thing I know ten policemen have barged into my room. I’ve not been able to stop replaying the words that came out of my mom’s mouth. They were quivering but sharp, not like the normal sweet and soft sound of her voice in the morning.

Now I feel that the thief is getting what he deserves. When they leave the thief standing in the road “the boy” becomes extremely upset, “And They set out along south with the boy crying and looking back at the nude and saltlike creature standing there in the road shivering and hugging himself.” “Oh Papa, he sobbed.”(McCarthy 258). I am now starting to feel the compassion the boy has towards the thief “He was hungry, Papa.” “He’s going to die.”(McCarthy 259). They finally take the thief’s clothes back and pile them in the middle of the road and I am glad of this. Later as they were lying down at camp I believe the man was starting to feel guilty, and he spoke “I wasnt going to kill him, he said.” “But the boy didnt answer.” “They rolled themselves in the blankets and lay there in the dark.” “He could tell the boy was awake and after a while the boy said: but we did kill him.”(McCarthy 260). When “the boy” made this comment I felt deep remorse and disgust in myself for having felt so harshly toward the thief in the beginning. I also felt happiness and relief in this story when “the man” and “the boy” found the underground shelter behind the house in the field, I felt as if I was there with them discovering the grand riches this den held! “Oh my God, he whispered.” “Oh my God.” “What is it

When the gunshot rang through my ears, I, as well as everyone around me was stunned in confusion, fear, and lack of comprehension. They looked around to see where the bullet had landed and noticed him, a man in his late forties looking down at his stomach. The hand that covered the area was stained with a thick, dark red color that coated his clothing. The crowd drew away from him as he fell to his knees, just realizing that he’d been shot and he was going to die. When he looked up at the police, they looked away, ashamed of their actions and unaware of the impact his death would have on his family, his friends.

We held onto only a single bodyguard. I reconnected with old friends, and dedicated my life to work and volunteering. My children were all truly happy in their careers. All of them joined me at the clinic. My young grand children were living completely normal lives and making great friends. One night I was feeling a bit tired, so I decided to head home early. I said goodbye to my daughter the clinic manager, and then I was on my way. I walked about two blocks before I realized I was being followed. The suburban streets were dark and deserted, so I ran into an ally trying to escape. The young man eventually found me. I recognized the young man; he was the son of a local butcher, a butcher who was killed by my father for an unpaid debt. He shakily pulled out a revolver. “For my father, I’m sorry,” he said and then proceeded to shoot me. I crumpled to the ground, but I did not make a sound. I had known this day would come. I deserved this. I knew I would have to pay for my crimes and the crime of my ancestors. My mind went to my family. They would never face this fate, or be a part of this madness. I had liberated them from their past. I after 200 years of Iladio crime had offered my children and future generations a chance to escape, a chance at peace, freedom, and

It was 7:15 P.M. on a cold December Friday in Aurora, Illinois. Jack Stroman the forty-five year old police officer was picking up coffee from a Dunkin Donuts drive-thru. He received an alert from his car radio about a domestic dispute about five minutes away. He paid for his coffee at the window and headed over to the address. When he arrived, he noticed that he would have to take care of this situation solo. He knocked on the door and yelled, “Aurora Police, Open Up!” He stood at the door for thirty seconds until he knocked again. Still, there was no answer. All of the sudden he heard a powerful scream from a woman. He proceeded to open the door with his gun in hand. “Aurora police!” He shouted again. A loud “Help me!” came from the top floor. Jack ran up the

It was 2 a.m., and my father, mother, two siblings, and I were headed home after an exhausting night of celebration. My father was driving and decided to use a shortcut to get home. When we were heading through an unknown neighborhood, I noticed something unusual: There were five black trucks parked in the middle of a driveway. As we headed closer, I heard my mother advise my father to turn around, but he did not listen. Then, I noticed that there were people standing in the street, and they were armed. I cried; I could not contain my instant

Growing up I was always around my four sisters just about 24/7, and they would drive me up the wall. It didn’t really help with our living situation that for seven or eight years we lived in this tiny two-bedroom house out in the middle of some kind of farmer’s field. I'm not quite sure how we managed to stay in that house without killing each other. We constantly fought and I’m not really sure why looking back we probably fought because we had nothing better to do than pick fights with one & other, or that house was killing us. During a storm a tree branch fell on the roof, which surprisingly didn’t go through the whole roof. That house leaked water horribly when it was raining one night, it just didn’t stop raining for hours, and our kitchen had standing water in it. We

“Get your phone,” He looked at her feet that were now bleeding from the bramble. “And put on shoes.”

In a moment of insanity, in a single second, in a single mistake, a decision that you make in a moment could all change the course of the next few months of your life. I was in my car, my tears fogging up the window of my mom’s blue Honda Pilot, the tension clogging up the air. I can feel my sweat and tears dripping down my face, more tears than I have had in awhile. It feels different. I began to wonder why the tears came down this much. The only thing I could hear was the faint radio, which my mom had turned down, my face is pressed against that window looking into the distance, hoping for a miracle. I could see the sadness of my mom’s eyes looking back at me every few seconds. Those seconds ticking into minutes, all of them in which

‘A time comes in the life of the most wretched when they do realize their mistakes and tries penance in their own way. Once I been attacked by influenza and having a high temperature, the animal instincts of my step father forced himself on me, right before my mother. I pleaded with my folded hands to let me be spared, I requested my mother to help me in relieving from the predator as my condition doesn’t permit to be his partner. My mother asked my step father to free me, when the words of my mother didn’t move him, she brought out a sword and to intimidate him flashed in the air, but the tip of the sword cuts off the veins of his neck and he fell down on me, killing him instantly, the blood oozing out profusely, drenched me fully. Horror

I was starting to have doubts… I still remember the screams of the children and the noose tightened and dug into their skin until a river of crimson blood ran from their neck. “Sir we are we going?” a child questioned “Will my mother be there?” “No.” I respond with no emotion

Thirty minutes had passed since Jahlil had entered the bank and he had wasted all of his ammo shooting rounds outside to fool the police into thinking the threat was larger than it was. Jahlil trained his weapon on his hostages and yelled for them to shut up and stay still. The police were outside yelling for him to come out on the bullhorn. They still had no clue how many people were armed inside he thought. Jahlil stood frozen. Waiting for the inevitable. Waiting for the huge double doors to get toppled by the swat battering ram and the full brunt of the law to bear down on him. It never came. Instead a lone police officer came in through the back. He was a short Mexican man. He looked very desperate but there was a dangerous gleam in his eyes. The moment Jahlil and the officer locked eyes their weapons came up. “Drop your weapon” Jahlil said. “Where’s my wife?” Said the man. There was a long silence. Jahlil was bluffing. He had no ammo. He was beaten. One look into this police officer’s eyes and he knew there was only one way out.

Ellie and I lay in our beds, neither one of us knew what to say. In the other room, our host parents were arguing. We didn’t know what about, but we knew it was serious. Then we heard a “THWACK” followed by silence. Ellie and I sat up in our beds and looked at each other, I could tell she was as scared as I was. “Was that? Did he just?” she asked me. Then the arguing started back up again. We calmed back down until we heard it again. “THWACK” We knew then, the noise we heard, was him beating her. We got up, our hearts racing; neither of us knew what to do. We got our nerves together to go get help. When we opened the door to our room we saw the children sitting on the couch crying out for their mother. I could see the fear in their face and I knew something needed to change.

Traditionally, failure is seen as a negative concept and is defined as lacking success. I, on the other hand, try to put a positive spin on everything in life. I see failure as an obstacle that is experienced by all, but it does not define an individual. Failure in essence will force an individual to be more receptive to their surroundings and actions and also will force an individual to mature. Looking back on my childhood years I can now pinpoint the areas where I failed and I can confidently say that I have grown and prospered due to those failures. The three major failures I have experienced were my attention deficit issues which affected my ability to succeed in school, my anti-social habit that I let consume my early years, and my