My Journey In The Journey Of My Life

My parents had always planned to have a baby girl in the family, but instead, God received them with their first two boys. Although it was not what they desired having, healthy babies were always something they were grateful for, but they never gave up on wanting a girl to be part of their lives. When I arrived in this world, my parents had acquired me with all girly objects. The thing was that being surrounded by all boys made me have the same interest such as playing video games instead of with Barbie dolls. Furthermore, as I got older I started to separate from my brothers because they had to work and I had to be strongly dedicated to my academics as well as helping my mother with chores. Going to school and coming home to hear the same question every day of what is my career pathway that I am pursuing is overwhelming. The only thing I was certain of in my life is that I had a devotion to increasing my knowledge. Once I arrived in high school I became closer to answering the question, since I was surrounded with more options. Not to mention, having found the passion of science due to the classes I have been taking, but it was not until when my aunt died when I knew my true purpose in life.

A lot of people wish that they can have someone to guide them through the journey of life. The ups and downs and the trials and tribulations. All this time I didn’t know that I had someone that was in my corner that I would consider to be a mentor. I didn’t see him as my mentor until two years ago. My mentor is my older cousin Isaiah, he is a mechanical engineer at General Electric. He has brown hair, brown eyes, and he’s athletic. Isaiah is caring, understanding, and very intelligent. Me on the otherhand, I am determined, honest, and very stylish. I have brown hair, brown eyes, and I’m short. He is twenty four years old and he is a graduate from Miami University of Ohio. Growing up there was a big age difference between us, but as we got

In my younger more vulnerable years, I often thought about killing myself. I don’t think it was because I felt depressed, alone, and bitter regarding my existence; I attribute it instead to an impulsive curiosity, best characterized by the little voice that always seems to say with a shrug: ‘I just want to see what happens...’ Now obviously, I didn’t listen, but the question never truly went away; I think it’s important to have a healthy obsession with the afterlife. Despite the difficulty of obtaining practical knowledge, I poured myself into the study of such things, but my palate remained unsatisfied: baseless speculations echoed tumblers rimmed in arsenic. I never found a cure for this affliction of unknowing, but I did find

I woke up on a cold, torn up mattress. I try to stand up, struggling since I was tied to the wall behind me. My head was throbbing and my wrists and ankles burned from the rope. That 's when I heard you walking down the stairs. My heart was pounding out of my chest. You then slowly unlocked the cage. For the first time I couldn’t save myself. You leaned over me, you stunk of stale cigarettes and booze. I knew I could survive the things you would do to me, I just didn’t know if I could ever get out.

I felt like no one will help me; I felt pain, suffering, and stress inside me. I knew that everything that happened to me and it will stop sooner or later. I felt that now I could see the light reaching for my hands. I felt that someone has finally helped me to wash away the suffering I 've been through. Pray and continued praying until this war against me and the devil is over, forever more. I believe in every problem there 's always a way. This loud voice is screaming in my head.

My life has gone through many different stages. Each stage has taught me new lessons about myself and has shaped my way of viewing the world. The way I was raised by my parents has made me the person who I am today. I believe my life experiences have pointed to the path of being a teacher.

Through centuries of disagreeing philosophies and schools of thought there is one idea that is constant. Even today, through the world is beginning to seem like it is more divided than ever, there is one idea upon which people generally believe. Even looking back on the works of the most influential writers of the antiquities, this idea was present and seemed to drive their philosophies and their characters. This is the certainty, even the indisputable fact, that at some point in a person’s life, they will no longer have that life. Death is such an innate part of the understanding of existence, that it is logical that through time millions of people have tried to answer that immortal question: what happens after we die?

My life started in a town called Troy in northern Ohio, on January the 30th in the year 1999 I was born in Miami Valley hospital. Having lived in Ohio for four years my parents decided that they are going to take a leap of faith and move down south to Oxford North Carolina. This decision changed a lot of things around in my life, no longer could we pile into the car and go to grandma’s house, or drive to a Walmart that was less than 5 miles away. We now lived in the “country” where everybody knows everyone and secrets spread faster than a wild fire. Growing up school was never a real challenge for me, I began elementary school at Stovall Shaw Elementary in Stovall North Carolina. Thankfully classes for me were never too challenging I was always able to do more than just get by. During my second grade year I met the teacher that not only taught me the course content, but also gave me life and moral lessons that every young child should be told. Mrs. Lyons or as I like to call her “MeMa”, played a significant role in the person I am today. I’ll never forget the day we were in class working on some math equations, and the way our class was set up there were two different sections of class. One for more advanced students and another for students who maybe needed a little more help. So, with that being said she put two different math equations on the board one more difficult than the other to account for the more advanced children in the class. I subconsciously begin to work on

I was always told that I could walk at a very early age. Back when I think about it I was always running as a child. I could never keep still. I was placed into every sport imaginable played soccer, baseball, basketball, volleyball, and even tennis. After I tried them I ended up getting tired of them. The only sport I really stuck with was soccer but in time it faded too. After that, I started to notice slight pains in my hips and I would usually walk with a limp. I went to the doctor on multiple occasions to fix this problem however their answer was always the same, growing pains. Then I was 14 years old and I started my high school career. I went to West Springfield high school. I had realized that I had just moved into a new situation in my life that I had completely no control over. So, in an effort to find people to talk to and find some friends in my new environment, I decided to join a club or a sport. However, after I thought about it I had nothing I felt I could properly assist in. After much debate, I came to the conclusion of joining the crew or rowing team.

My journey has been in many ways an attempt at finding myself and my place in life. Immediately after graduating High School I joined the National Guard. Partially because I felt compelled to do what I could after 9/11, but also because I had no direction in career or life. Truthfully, I just wanted to get as far away from my normal every day as possible.

My story began like most in America. I was born to very Christian loving parents who were hardworking, family oriented people. My father was a military man, my mother worked odd jobs and was a homemaker. My young life started with turmoil due to my early childhood diagnosis of Dyslexia. I was hyperactive and was required to take medication and attend special education classes. My attitude towards learning was compromised because it was a constant struggle. My parents did all they could to help me along. We were a military family and I spent years overseas while my father served in the United States Army.

A few hours had passed since the towering palm trees of Central Florida had become scrubby brown bushes and scraggly trees. The sprawling lakefront manors had given way to dingy apartment buildings and criss-crossing power lines. I shifted nervously in the seat of the truck, noticing that the knot in my stomach had become the size of a boulder.

Two bedrooms, two bathroom apartment in Hollywood, California, I was living the life some people dream of. My school was in the Hollywood Hills on Laurel Canyon road, and it was like driving into the forest with tall trees on both sides of the narrow winding road, which made me think the bus drivers had excellent skill. The name of my school was Wonderland Avenue Elementary and it has a fence that was three chain links high so the mountain lions didn't terrorize us while we were at school. It was so cold in the mornings that the playground would freeze over and my friends and I would slide on the ice. This was no private school, but it certainly could have been with all the money it was funded through from the parents. I went to school with millionaire's children. My friend's houses looked like castles, they were so grand and lavish with modern appliances and granite countertops and had pools with waterfalls. I loved it, it was like going to a resort when I slept over.

My sister was born February 1, 2005. Although I was young, this is an event I will forever remember. My sister was not due for another five weeks and my mom had already been to the hospital three times with false alarms. My mom was a skinny, 5’4”, blonde haired, green eyed, twenty-six year old woman. Her hair goes down to her mid back, and she has fair skin and freckles. The smell of pickles lingered in our house, as they were her pregnancy food. The morning of February 1, 2005 I remember hearing my mom scream in pain. When my dad asked what happened, she said my sister was coming and it was serious this time. My dad was a skinny but muscular, 6’0”, green eyed, young man. At only 22 years old, he still had the blonde tips spiked up with a gallon of hair gel, tied together with a Puka shell necklace. He spoke with modern slang, and was going through the beginning of his adult life as best he could. There was no way my sister was coming five weeks early he told my mom. With three false alarms it was a very boy who cried wolf moment for him. My mom has always been a persuasive woman and gets her way with ease, so it did not take long before our trip to the hospital began.

As we begin our journey into the world, even as high school students, it is not uncommon to hear those cliché sayings from our older adults. The stories of how our elders worked so hard to provide for their families, they wished they got an education to help making the ends meet a bit easier. Even when we are young and new to the world, we get asked the question, “What do you want to be when you grow up?” Even as little ones we already know that having a job, working and providing for ourselves and our family is how we are supposed to live. Finish school; go to college, get a degree and venture out into the working world, is in almost every American’s plan. It is almost as if as children we do not get to use our imagination of what we really we want to be in our adult life. Most of us grow up thinking our only duty in life is to work to make money.