My Life Story

Part of the folklore around my family gatherings is about what a packrat my Gram was. We all giggle at her and with her. She kept everything because “it might be useful”, Gram would say. She was a good sport about the ribbing we all gave her but she never changed. I remember, even as a young person, thinking, “but when it’s time comes to be useful, you won’t know where it is because it’ll be buried under all the other useful items”. When Gram got older and it was time to move her out of her big house, the task of emptying that house fell to her children, who had grown up in that house and knew their mothers ways very well. When they got to the

My family realized that I have a huge passion for Marilyn Monroe. My room started fill up more and there began to be limited wall space left. I started to think, I wanted an item that is worth value, and one you couldn’t just purchase from any store. As time went on, I thought of several different items I wanted to purchase a rare framed photo or a charcoal poster. One night, I happen to be visiting my grandparents and the topic had gotten brought up about me deciding if I wanted to purchase a valuable item of Marilyn. My grandpa glanced at me and smiled. He said “ Jada, stay here, I have something for you.” I looked over at my grandma; I said, “ Oh goodness, I bet it’s another cheap necklace he picked up from the grocery story on the way home.” As he hollered my name from the other room, I walked towards him and he had a large box full smaller boxes. I looked at him and said “ Gee grandpa, Just want I wanted” and laughed. He gave me a smirk and said, “ Go ahead and open one.” I will admit, I was truthfully a little nervous. I noticed they were in a green-stripped dingy box. I cut the tap off of one, and then pulled the tissue off and my heart almost sunk in.

In my meticulously kept room, with tired drapes, and hand-me-down furniture, there is a board. This board holds various oddments roughly tacked onto it. Multiple trinkets and baubles have made their home there; some things from years ago I have trouble even recalling where they came from, or why I kept them. There’s no order to my collection, no system for the chaos that’s tacked onto a cheap piece of posterboard, yet despite the disorganization of the board it is one of the most sentimental masterpieces I own; for these “things” attached to my board are memories.

Our lives are defined not by our possessions, but by our actions. In my life, there are three major sections; music, dance, and art. I have chosen these three objects to represent these sections; a clarinet, an outgrown pair of tap shoes, and a miniscule piece of charcoal. The aforementioned objects were my starting points into the fine arts part of life. I would be a completely different person without those possessions.

Have you ever seen something old and think that its trash but it’s important to someone else? Well there’s someone out there that knows what I’m talking about when I say that. When you think about it there’s tons of stuff that’s important to people but everybody else thinks that it just needs to be thrown away. Like when you see an old pillow that someone has you’d probably think, “that person needs to throw that away.” This essay is about something my cousin has that is really old and why it’s important to him.

When I was younger, my mother used to send me a lot of things from the United States of America. Some of those things were very useful, some of them where less useful, but the all depended of how important I considered them. It could have been just a basic object that no children really care about, but to me it was meaning the world. As it could have been something every children wanted, but had no importance in my eyes. I remember this black and painted Eastpak bag that my mother sent me years ago when I was 10. She sent me the bag at a moment it was very trending. The day I received the bag, I was first surprise, and then happy. Happy not only because the bag was beautiful, but also because I was proud to be able to tell and show to my friends what my mother bought for me. It was important because it meant that even if we are not leaving in the same country, she thinks about me all the time. That object came at the right time, right moment, when all the kids wanted that bag and it was beautiful and fun. Although I used the book bag only for a year, I kept it with me for a long time of about 5 or 6 years. Thinking I might use it or maybe I was too afraid and superstitious to throw the bag

Objects possess deep significance and value to an abundant amount of individuals. In addition to that, an intangible weight of a personal, yet intricate story. During my time in South Korea, I was gifted a particularly lovely wallet. To others, the function of that wallet is to merely store my Korean currency. In actuality, it furthermore has the ability and imperceptible space to hold recollections of my story, through its being of a tangible memory. The exchange program in South Korea permitted me to step foot outside of the United States for the very first time. Therefore, the significance of my wallet is far greater than holding money. It loops around my priceless experience and values to continually discover and dive into the immense world before me. It is a reminder to take the chance for further cultural exposures, so that my mind can ceaselessly expand and develop. From my time in South Korea, an entirely new perception of life had been established. Plus the fact that I only tasted a tinge of the world causes me to

I was shocked. I had never experienced something this horrific. I began to think that our life as a family would be over, due to the stress, heartbreak, and sadness our family would go through in the years to come. I went online and searched spinal defect and regretfully clicked on the images, I began to ball in the waiting room. I ran straight passed my dad and went to the restroom. I stood there looking at myself in the mirror for a while. I than began to think about how my mom would feel in this situation if I was crying she must have wanted to die. I jolted out the restroom and asked my dad what room my mom was in. He told me and I began to run towards the room, many of the nurses told me to stop running, but I ignored all of them. While

In 1995, I was asked to relocate to a different city. I had lived in Cincinnati and the surrounding area all of my life. My entire biological family was there (well, except the ones in south central Kentucky, but that’s another story). All my friends were there. I was well-rooted into my church (my real family). Everything. All that I knew in life was in Cincinnati. All my ex’s lived in, not Texas, but Cincinnati. We accepted the call and in the last days there, I sat in shock of what I was about to do. Uncertainty was overwhelming One day as I sat quietly, I heard a still, small say, “Pam, I have taken care of you in Cincinnati, you know I will take care of you in this new city.” I was instantly in peace.

Have you ever thought about the things you have and what they mean to you whether they are physical or not? I will admit, I don’t regularly think about what my possessions mean to me. There is a short story called the things they carried, which is about some American soldiers in the Vietnam War, and what the things they carried meant to them emotionally and physically. Some of my most important things are my gold chain necklace, rifle, and wallet.

My story started one night i was sleeping in my bedroom i woke up around 2:00 am and

Many people never get to see the true me, or me at all. I often hide what I don't want people to see, so I can be seen as normal. People always see a happy, quiet and very curious 16 year old boy wandering the halls with friends in school or playing sports. Nobody really thinks or even cares about what is actually going on in my life. They only see the outer shell that I have been protecting like a mother goose being harassed by an annoying seagal. Growing up in the upper middle class many saw me as a kid that they would have never seen as a kid with any stress or problems in life, I am here to tell you no one is perfect. This is my story.

It was a sunny day but I didn’t care. All I wanted was my mom. This story takes place in Guatemala City, Guatemala where it isn’t safe to walk at night. It happened when I was around three or four years old. After standing at that corner, now I know my life would have been very different if my brother and aunt hadn’t showed up in time. This is the story of when I ran from home as a child.

“My little girl is going to make it far! This one is going to see the world!”, uttered my grandfather as he held me for the first time after I was born. It turned out he was right as always. My life story includes escaping war-torn Kabul on a donkey which my family and I are lucky to have survived after nearly being hit by a missile, then immigrating to Germany for hopes of a better future and lastly ending up in the United States as a teenager. Three different continents and each provided me with more growth then the previous one.

People don’t realize the sad truth that I’ve been holding on for and secretly suffering with most of my life. People seem to see me as a girl that is naturally bubbly, happy, and outgoing. This was a way for me to hide my real emotions in the time when my depression and anxiety were major factors impacting my self-esteem, just a couple of years ago. So, yes, I admit it -- I was a victim of depression and anxiety. My anxiety has been occurring ever since I was a toddler. My usual anxious behavior would be when I would easily get nervous, wouldn’t talk that well in order to be understood, would go through emotional meltdowns at times, and so forth. My depression however, seem to connect a lot with my anxiety because of my meltdowns and it would easily bring my self-esteem down. One interesting fact about my depression is that it got extreme when I was in middle school. Many events in that time of my life made me feel absolutely worthless inside.