Injustice-Personal Narrative

Im proud to have things that I have now,Without my generation there would be no freedom,without freedom our lives would be miserable and torn apart.Im glad our veterans fought for our country, they risked their lives for our country to stay in peace.If we didn't fight we would be controlled And be told what job to have ,how many kids we can have or they will tell us where we live.Veterans did anything they could to defeat our enemies,They never gave up ,they never stopped they kept on going until it was over.Im also glad that we have civil rights without civil rights people would still be held as slaves and they would still be getting beat by their owners.The biggest thing that i'm proud about is equal rights ,there should have never separated

I replied. “For a nice trip down yonder, so you can see how one bad mistake could change your whole life forever”, he answered. Not having an idea what he meant, I sat along for the ride. This day was a day I knew I would never forget.

Growing up in a small town in Iowa I was unaware of the many situations involving hardship or misfortune that were around me. Therefore, it was not till college when I received the opportunity to work for a reentry program called the Transformative Justice Initiative that I became aware of the multiple factors lead to incarceration, drug use, homelessness, and other areas of hardship. The longer I was involved with the program the more I learned how mental health is convoluted in all of these situations and in all populations. Consequently, my experiences with the Transformative Justice Initiative helped me develop my future aspirations as a professional, which include a desire to work with individuals that have mental illness.

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.

Close your eyes, take a deep breath, in the out, and still with your eyes close imagine yourself walking into the middle of an arena somewhere in Rome back around 265 BC. The arena is filled with many anxious, excited and angered faces. You hear people screaming your name as you walk in and others booing and wanting you to leave. As you stare straight ahead you see a man, at least 6ft tall, covered with many tattoos and his face covered with a mask and he is holding a silver sword. Slowly he walks towards you, gripping his sword.

It donned a large cloak of silken strands of the deepest silver. Its tail was long and eagerly wagged in rhythm with the arched floppy ears. It had eyes of golden thunder that became two suns in the cloudy sky of its face, but as soon as I reached to pet the creature, it galloped away, leaving me in the wake of the swirling dust and sand. I sighed, but my spirits were lifted by the sight of a person walking toward me. A god perhaps, for I saw no settlement in the vicinity.

I turn around and notice a presence appearing from the rocky crevices that lead to the garden. Surely, this must be the hero that legend spoke of. A man of great strength and willpower, one with the fighting force of a thous-

The creature he had been tracking all along. It was in the middle of the meadow and he was no more than 400 yards away. It was just smaller than the trees in the forest and was making an arrangement of sounds. It was the color of ash and it’’s eyes glowed that shone like beacons in the night. It stood on all four legs and had claws that could slice through rock. By the looks of it, it’’s skin was as thick as concrete. It was feeding on a fresh kill, making all sorts of repulsive noises as it did. The man pulled something from his bag, it was silver and sharp. It was a sword. This sword was no ordinary sword, it was a sword that had been given to him by his father which had been passed down throughout his family tree. It radiated with energy as he held it in his hands. He felt a new surge of energy pass through him. Just then the noises of the feast ceased and the beast sniffed the air alerted by the smell of the man. The man’s heart was beating and he could feel the beast’’s eyes staring directly at him. That’s when the monstrosity released a terrifying screech. It sounded like metal scraping against metal, it tested the man’s very soul and willpower. The screech did not deter the man for when he held the sword he was in tune with every part of his

A half dozen riders atop of massive horses with horns like a fearsome bull only a seasoned matador would face, showed themselves in the the dim moon light. A moment later there were hundreds of them. I trembled with fear to the point it caused my to topple over. I gained control of my pounding heart and trembling legs enough to run for the bell, I had to alert the rest of the fort of the horsemen outside the gates. Immediately upon reaching the bell a sling stone came hurling out of the darkness knocking me

I reply to Rufus remark. Calm down you say, by Odin's beard free me now! I pause for a moment to think. I don't know why I am all tide up like this but all I know strange thing have been happening ever since I got my wound form that polar bear. Well that and when I left the camp for a walk and found an old woman picking mushrooms in the woods she told me to eat them and I would see the gods. Then after that every time I eat the mushroom I would see the gods but the men that were with me looked like they been in a fight and when I ask them what happen they would avoid the question.

For a reason I don’t understand, teenagers will often call their peers “Social Justice Warriors” as an insult. As if being proactive about the world around us is a negative thing that should be squashed through insecurity. I am someone who has often been called a social justice warrior. But despite how those who say it would want me to feel, it actually makes me happy. It makes me happy because it means that even if they don’t want to hear or think about how the world treats people and things that don’t fit in with the norm, they know that that’s what I am fighting. To Lewis & Clark I would bring this peaceful fury. There have been times over the years when I have stopped myself from speaking up for things, but I got tired of that pretty quickly.

The other day, I tried to share an article, on a social justice issue, with my close friend [white, cisgendered female], but before I could start reading, she responded with “Ugh, don’t read that. I’m not in the mood for anything depressing,” all the while rolling her eyes.

It is true in life that everything happens for a reason. It is also true to say that sometimes it is all about being in the right place, at the right time. There was never a more prominent example of this than a traumatic summers evening, only a few years ago.

People often think of language as a connector, something that brings people together by helping them share experiences, feelings, ideas, etc. We, however, are interested in how language sets people apart. Start with the peculiarities of your own personal language—the voice you use when speaking most intimately to yourself, the vocabulary that spills out when you're startled, or special phrases and gestures that no one else seems to use or even understand—and tell us how your language makes you unique. You may want to think about subtle riffs or idiosyncrasies based on cadence, rhythm, rhyme, or (mis)pronunciation.

When I see fit, I shall come and claim other victims. I alone know whom they shall be. I shall leave no clue except my bloody axe, besmeared with blood and brains of he whom I have sent below to keep me company.