Liminal Spaces-Personal Narrative

One thing that does not interest me anymore is going outside. I used to always love going outside but not anymore that is like the top uninterested thing i'm into rite now. When i was a kid i loved going outside, after i got older i only go outside on the daily-bases now that i'm more mature.When i get in trouble my parents make me go outside for my punishment. Outside is just not interested to me

This past year, I have been apart of Naperville Central’s brand new Special Spaces club. When my friend approached me and asked me to join, I agreed even though I had no clue what I was involving myself in. In retrospective, I can honestly say that becoming a part of Special Spaces has been one of the most meaningful, fun, and fulfilling experiences I have had in high school.

Genevieve jumped up from the table and ran up the stairs screaming back down “Why should I have to look at her past; I don’t even know mine”

Thomas was well traveled; she had never traveled beyond Savannah and Charleston; moreover, as far as she knew, although he was well educated and older than she was, neither had Eli. Allie pouted for a moment, and then her spark returned. All would be well once they were settled in Salisbury. Maybe she could accompany Thomas on some of his trips if the war was not as bad as most seemed to think it was going to be. After breakfast, Thomas left her briefly and then returned. At ten a.m., a carriage arrived to pick them up to take them to her

Andrea sat in the break room, waiting for her shift to start at 8:30, her long, crisp black hair covered the back of the seat. Andrea had her face deep into paperwork but, then noticed Mary walked into the room and looked up, took off her glasses and wiped her forehead. Andrea’s porcelain skin, looked like it has barely seen any sunlight, or even touched. Mary and Andrea had most of the day piled up in paperwork, except for their breaks. At lunchtime, Mary added to her stories of sleepwalking into the forest, including the one early in the morning.

The sun shines through the small basement window of the house. It’s early morning beams piercing across the face of a young girl as she sleeps. It takes awhile for the brightness to penetrate her green eyes but when it does she stretches lazily under the covers closing those eyes for yet one more moment of dreams. She suddenly bolts upright as she remembers what today is.

I think that my family realized that I had crossed the threshold between childhoods when I began to form my own opinions. This first took hold when I took part in poverty stimulation at my local shelter. I was giving a character and a story behind the card I was given; the story made me become emotionally attached to this name I had been assigned and the family in which I came from. The experience made me question the prejudice of the society I was living in. How many times had I avoided eye contact with the people on the side of the road begging for money? I began a long journey of soul searching and questioning the beliefs my parents had raised me on. My thoughts were continually brought back to a book by C.S Lewis, it was called Out of the Silent Planet; a character named Weston believed that individual human lives don’t matter, they must be sacrificed to save mankind.

She was puzzled. Did they want Annabel to follow them? Where would they lead her? Would they lead her out to safety? As she pondered these questions, she thought about all that she had lost. It was right in that moment that she decided she didn’t have much left to lose. As she stood up, her head started to spin, she remembered how she smashed her head in the car crash. Her memories of the crash grew stronger and stronger and she became even more distressed about her parents. Why weren’t they here with her, what had happened to

I left my radio in the back room in was most likely with the volunteer who was covering for me. He yelled at me to "get up" and told me lets talk in Joshs' office (which was a few steps away). Daniel storms in Joshs' office, turns on the light and sits down in the office chair in front of the desk with his arms crossed and a sticky note in his hand. I follow him and prop the door open with the door stop is I say "lets keep the door open it's hot in here." The real reason I did this was because I was extremely uncomfortable. He then yells, "Do you want to tell me where you have been?". I was standing in the door way, not completely in the room when I told him that I met with HR. He asked very angrily who I got permission to leave from and then stated that I left my post without permission.

I HAD BEEN ASLEEP QUITE SOUNDLY FOR A COUPLE HOURS, WHEN I WAS AWOKEN BY AN ALL TOO FAMILIAR SOUND. IT SEEMED LIKE EVERY TIME MY BRAIN REGISTERED CERTAIN NOISES - EVEN WHEN I WAS DEEP IN SLEEP, IT SENT OFF A PANIC TRIGGER THAT FLOODED THROUGH MY MIND. THIS WAS ANOTHER ONE OF THOSE TIMES.

When I was young my Dad would always remind me of how important these years as a kid are. He would always say watch how you act as a kid, for it will set the stage for the rest of your life. So many people I know ruined their lives when they were kids. This small, yet so important statement runs through my mind everyday. I love how everyone says they don’t care what people think of them, but I wish they knew how important it is to have a good image. I am not perfect, but I would like to be close as possible. But as Salvador Dali said “Have no fear of perfection, you’ll never reach it. “ The problem I see is everyone wanting to be someone that they are not. Sure, we all have our idols that we look

I don’t get why my sister is sending me here, sending me to rehab. Its not like I have a problem. Ok, I have a slight problem but that doesn’t mean I need to go to rehab for it. She thinks it will help me “get better”. I get so annoyed with her when she says that. All she ever says to me now is do this and you’ll get better, try harder and maybe things would work out. Try harder. You don’t think I’ve tried my whole life to fix the things that are wrong with me. I have. I fought every single day and nothing ever changed. I’m still the same way I was since I was little. I’m still messed up. I know I am but she can’t honestly think that rehab is going to help can she? I highly doubt it.

Looking through a window is like looking at a broken mirror; the other half of me had started a live without me. You can look at me, but I can see through you. I see the pain that lied in your eyes, I see myself. The sun doesn’t seem to set and the night doesn't seem to rises. This love is lost in the wilderness with full bitterness. It's a shame she walk aside with a new warrior; she seen to weep of joy when she with him. Why swear and promise to something that’s not in our power? Every morning you could hear the bird chirping while I drown myself in the toxic, poisonous, and venomous bottle.

It was in an apartment complex, filled with plenty of cars and kids heading home; after a long day, of school and work. A shining light, from the sun’s surface, was slanting over the tall apartment walls and into the kitchen. Inside, an oppressed woman and the oppressive man. Each cup sitting neatly next to the pot of drinking water on the edge of the table. This was the area the condemned woman is due to be beat for the next year or two. Little worried children were squatting at by the couch, with their blankets draped round them.

Touched by fading moonlight, the girl looked pale as a ghost, distressed and sorrowful. Great drops fell from her eyes; the heavy rain clouds in her mind let loose their turbulent nature. She felt the muscle of her chin trembled like a small child, again, she looked toward the window as if the darkness outside could soothe her. However, she tried to keep her sobbing down by biting her lips, afraid the woman would “visit” again. Meanwhile, in the hallway, there was only deadly silence, creating an overwhelming sense of emptiness.