Milk, Check-Personal Narrative Analysis

Decent Essays
Toilet paper, Check. Milk, Check. Once again I’ve caught myself ticking off a shopping list, it seems like only yesterday I did the same thing. I was caught in the weekly drag, doomed to repeat the same day over and over again, my own figurative Ground Hog Day.
Though, outside of my life, this day, or last couple of weeks however, has been far from normal; just 10 minutes down the road, the shopping center of Tiananmen Square staged a thousand body strong protest for a democratic China. I myself joined in the protests for a day. Oh how great I thought it would be, screaming until I could scream no longer, fighting for and alongside my people. But to be honest, it was pretty damn boring, mostly just sitting on concrete and repetitive chants;
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Don’t worry trolley man, woman or boy, at least you don’t have to pay rent.
I began placing the items from my trolley onto the counter and once again let my mind wonder as I picked up the local newspaper from the stand and began to flip through it. Strange, not a mention of the Tiananmen riots, I’d of thought that would have been front page worthy, but there wasn’t a single reference to the ongoing events right outside my own, and everybody’s door.

Puzzled, yet not bothered enough to engage myself in something so small and insignificant, I grabbed my grocery bags and walked out the door, glad it was just me that I had to feed, and not an entire family, or that would make the walk home quite the drama, hauling 4 Peoples worth of food
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The insanely loud firecrackers that I heard previously weren’t something so innocent, but it was the sound of automatic gunfire. These tanks, claiming to be part of the Chinese People’s Liberation Army, were heading to massacre their own people that they were sworn to protect. This war for democracy, is now a literal, war for democracy; although I must say, calling it a war is unfair, because for it to be war, both sides need to have a chance. 15 meters away now, and I still have no idea what to do, except stay and let my anger boil my blood. Forget about bringing a gun to a knife fight, the government, that I thought wanted the best for it’s people, is bringing tanks to fight against rocks. But if this was a war, then that meant that I was the frontline, that I was the last chance for the people of China. Perhaps this was a sign from god, he heard my whining about having a ‘boring’ and repetitive life, and sent me this dilemma. I have two choices, to run away and to let more be massacred, or to stay, to somehow not let this monstrous tank pass. 5 meters away, and approaching like a lion stalking a doomed gazelle. I’LL BE DAMNED if I let them murder their own people! So here I am, making a
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