Me As A Victim Analysis

An ‘ideal victim’ is someone who has played no part in their victimisation by an offender who was wholly responsible for the incident. The public can relate to the ‘ideal victims’ ordeal and although they have been through an awful sometimes incomprehensible experience society views the ‘ideal victim’ “as pure, blameless (hence passive) people against whom an evil act was omitted by a depraved individual” (Spalek, B. 2006 p25). Although most people can relate to an ‘ideal victim’ there is a ‘positivist perspective’ in victimology that defines the behaviour and circumstances of people can have a direct contribution to their victimisation. However, the ‘feminist perspective’ would argue that by suggesting a victim had aided in their

One breezy fall afternoon, as fido and I were strolling down an ally. Fido leaped off the leash and rushed over to a pile of garbage behind a old rusty brown shed. I followed after him shocked by what I saw next. There lying in a hole that Fido had dug was a skull, collarbone, and pelvis of a human. I don't know what provoked Fido to dig a hole, he's a moose. I sure glad he did though. My next move was to call the police and explain the crime scene, then I started my work. My good friend Billy Bass said in an article, “Dead man talking”, “when you first start off, you want to look at that crime scene and say, ‘what does this scene tell me?’” The first thing I noticed was all the grass around the hole was dead, and the trash next to the bag seemed fairly fresh. The bones on the other hand looked like they were in fairly good shape. This told me the person who lives here didn't know the bones were there and these bones have been there for a while.

My life is like any other. I’ve had my ‘Triumphs and Disasters’, I’ve fallen when I thought I could fly, and flew when I thought I was falling. I’ve drowned only to come back up again...on the other side. I don’t know exactly what is going on most of the time, but whatever I’m doing, looks like it might be working. I’ve been shattered like glass and repaired with liquid gold. In short, I’ve lived.

My setbacks and challenges through being a foster child took me on a journey that continues to greater things because God’s plan is big. Hardship did not overpower me in the end. I am surrounded by people who love me. Challenges that I came to encounter turned into things I would not change for the world, like my adoption, and my Christianity. That blaze that once tore the inside of me now dispenses

into these turmoil­filled subsections of my past and current self to better play this role, although

Moved around year after year, from school-to-school, city-to-city, for 7 years straight. A different school, a different sense of feeling lost, and a different identity. Like Arnold from Sherman Alexie’s novel The Absolutely True Diary of a Part-Time Indian, I’ve dealt with having to choose who I wanted to be at each school. This experience makes me most like the narrator of the novel.

In conclusion, this is my story. Life is filled with trials and trouble, so I want to make the most of it. I want to create mosaics from my life and from the lives of those around

I had escaped from the house while not being caught by the Germans .Outside I found a letter that said I love you and I knew this was directed to me. I could tell it was my father because of his classy handwriting. Although my mother didn’t write I saw her glossy red lipstick on the side. I knew it was a sign that she loved me just equally as my father. I’ve . I then acquired false identification papers. I've always been a Good Samaritan, but this was my first ever act of resistance. I changed my name, I took off my star, I became a non-Jewish person. Since of my street smarts and determination, blond hair and Aryan looks, I was able to escape the Nazi roundups that ultimately sent my parents and sister to the gas chambers of Auschwitz. I stayed in Amsterdam, passing as a non-Jew. I felt that I was carrying the weight of the world on my shoulders when my parents weren’t here to guide me. I just knew that they would be proud of everything I’ve accomplished if they were here. Years later Amsterdam was liberated by Canadian troops on May 4th, 1945, I then immigrated to the US where I could have a fresh

It felt nearly impossible to feel excited about a future I could barely see myself partaking in. My health began to fail me and while I was stuck fighting a civil war in my own body, the people around me continued to move forward. I lost myself in my pursuit of some shred of my identity that I could hold onto. It would be about three years of this blind search before I would remember the stars that lit my childhood. Once again, I had found hope in the promises of what lies beyond our

I have always loved to read. In fact, Dr. Seuss’s children’s books were my favourite and I still keep them in my shelves today. Reading filled my imagination and gave me inspiration since childhood that still impacts me today.

“Yet another victim is found in the alleyway of the local college’s east wing. The body has been identified as a sophomore who was walking back to her dorm from night classes. Police are patrolling the area now, and the students at the college are advised to stay inside,” the reporter says.

“If your life were like a book, and you were the author, how would you want your story to go?” I know that most people would say they want their life to have a big meaning, or they wanted to have wealth maybe even fame. All I would want if my life was a book, was it to be me. I don’t want it to be anything big and fancy I would want it to stay true to me. There are some stories that i’ve read this year that I would like my life to be like and there are others that I wouldn’t want my life to be like.

I learned to live life to the fullest because you never know when it might end, and to not let fear or people control the whole outcome of my day. Looking back on these events I can gladly say I am a lot better because my parents got me help and I am very grateful. While things couldn’t get better they did, now I am attending my sixth school where I have excellent grades, and I have even started eating normally, and finally started to managing my sleep. Days aren’t always perfect but in time of trouble we must find the beauty in our flaws and dream on because God has a

This is the other part of the story, the one no one asks about or knows about. It’s the part of the story my parents never wanted to hear about. The part of the story that turned me into what I became.

For years, I convinced myself that the story of my life began when I arrived in America at eleven months old. I tumbled through the clichéd white-picket-fence childhood, never realizing how impossible it was to completely discard the first year of my infancy. While I had always known about being adopted from China, I did not fully comprehend the weight of this detail until my late teenage years.