Narrative Essay : My Everyday Day

I was ten, the most terrifying event I had been through was riding the little dragon roller coaster at the fair, but that night changed it all. The fear that started in my head spread like wildfire to the rest of my body from the tips of my fingers to the bottoms of my toes. My heart was racing so fast that it could have beat Usain Bolt in a 100m dash. Stop, drop and roll, three steps that should have come naturally, but instead I froze, looked down at my yellow and black checkered flannel in complete terror, fearing for my life.

I had always assumed that my legs were strong and that I had decent muscle control, however, this thought was proven wrong at the beginning of my junior year in high school due to a detrimental injury. It was the first game of fall league for basketball, and within the first five minutes I had succumbed to an injury. Tearing my ACL and Meniscus has taught me to continue improving on my strength, not let this one injury keep me down, and to keep a positive mindset.

Dear Diary, It is so nice here. I'm at the beach. I went with my cousin Tracie. We haven't seen each other in a million trillion zillion years! Anyway, everyone was looking at me. I don't even know what I was doing! Aunt Claire drove me in her car. She dropped Tracie and me off at the entrance. Before, we left, Claire and Tracie gave me some looks as I came down the stairs and showed them my bathing suit. I don't know why everyone is so confused about my bathing suit. Anyway, when I got to the beach, I walked with my wicker basket to the little changing room. The day was so beautiful. The sun was shining, the birds were chirping, and there was a nice breeze. The breeze wasn't too strong, thankfully. Last time I went to the beach, the wind was

The sun peeked through my bedroom window; time to get up! The day was warm and gorgeous. It was the perfect weather to go to the beach. I woke up early and prepare our breakfast, so we can eat first before we leave. I can smell the eggs and bacon sizzling in a pan. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee makes my day complete. The pancake oozing with butter and maple syrup is ready to serve. I also prepare a fresh squeezed orange juice for the kids. When I was cooking everybody is starting to wake up. We are planning to go to the Narragansett beach with the family. Everything is all packed and ready to go. The kids are very excited; they help me to organize all the stuff that we needed since last night. After we eat our breakfast the kids immediately go to their bedroom and change for their cutest swimwear attire. While my fiancé and I started to pack everything in the car.

Then the 134 arrived. I got on, showed my pass to the bus driver and

I know myself. Parents say they know you best but sometimes they can hardly tell. Kids can keep secrets, and especially teenagers. You can adjust yourself to look, act, and believe in certain ways. You can act like you’re perfectly fine like there’s nothing wrong with you. That’s what I try to do. Back in sophomore year, I hinted at my parents I had anxiety. Dad seemed like he wanted to take me to a therapist. He seemed supportive, interested in it. There I lay, wasting away in my room daily, certain I will go see a therapist to see if there’s anything wrong with me at all. Then Junior year came up.

Somewhere in the middle east, the sun is displaying exhibiting its full capabilities potential, producing temperatures well over beyond one hundred degrees. While I am standing guard, a motorcyclist is approaching me at a dangerous speed.The dare-devil motorcyclist defying the laws of gravity, weaving maneuvering in and out of traffic, tires gripping grappling dirt with every compound of rubber, and creating enough G-force to rattle stationary vehicles he is passing, exhaust screaming screeching in shear pain agony. Straight hauling-ass. The motorcyclist has a curious cargo carrier that is strapped to his thigh, and most motorcyclists on the streets travel with a carrier on the bike’s frame. He is ignoring the translated warning sign on the back of my vehicle that reads “CAUTION STAY ONE HUNDRED METERS BACK, OR YOU WILL BE SHOT.”

It ended up making me feel vulnerable. I spent so much time building up my outer shell so that no one could hurt me, but it wasn’t enough. I ended up giving a piece of myself to that person, a piece that I can never get back. The first time I realized I loved someone was long after they had disappeared from my life, and it made me question the true validity of my feelings. How could someone who hurt me so badly still cross my mind so often?

Breakfast is ready! Mom yelled, Coming mom ! I yelled back. It was like any other day, everyday was a struggle to get up early and go eat breakfast. I layed in my bed thinking about about how my day was going to go, but what could I have possibly be thinking at only 5 years old. I get off my bed and go to the bathroom, as usual everyday I would get up, wash my teeth and then get changed. While getting changed my puppy wanted to play, a cute little German shepard, light gray hair with amazing eyes and his ears always sticking up as a very clever dog, and so I started playing and as usual just taking a very long time to go eat breakfast. I started to wear my shoes and again my puppy started to play with my shoe. This time I actually wanted to go eat. I just started to walk downstairs with only one shoe on, while I’m walking down my puppy runs down with my shoe and waits for me at the bottom of the stairs. I tried taking my shoe away from him, for it was impossible he always wanted to play tug of war. I walked to the kitchen and there was my mom and my dad waiting for me in the kitchen table. My mom picked me up and seat me at the usual chair, then she said “don’t make a mess” She knew everyday I ate breakfast I made a mess. While I was eating my mom and dad started a conversation about my puppy and they were telling me that they got that puppy, Max, 2 weeks after I was born. They were telling me to take good care of him because Max has been there for me at all times. I

It is too many times to count that I find my mind wandering far, far away from my most apparent struggles. My calm and cool composure is one that I uphold with pride. But little do they know, dear reader, is that I often find myself sinking, in the complexity of what are my thoughts and experiences. I am currently much too deep in the water, it almost seems easier to swim down. Drowning in your own head is not pleasant, my friend, not at all.

It was a cold, February night at the Knights of Columbus Hall in Boonville, MO. I was at my eighth grade formal. Leading up to my high school years, I was always in my shell. I never came out. A group of my friends and I had been dancing and I noticed two guys walk in. One, I knew through his sister. The other, I knew was in the grade younger than me and his name was Kendall, but nothing more.

There have been many times I have dealt with this pain. Each time it seems to get easier. Does the pain ever fade or go away? The answer is no, it doesn’t ever lessen or disappear. The pain is still there, but eventually I start to realize what is really happening. I now understand, although I begin to feel more pain, the ones I love no longer do and they will always be there with me in spirit.

I see a lot of the same quote by Oscar Wilde, “Be yourself; everyone else is taken.” The thing is, it’s frightening to be myself when people like me are only 4% of the world with 61% against us. LGBTs have a tough life, but it’s ours.

I remember waking up on a Saturday morning and I would find Sylvia the housekeeper working on the supper following that smell, I say good morning while I squeeze her from behind. And take my place at the table, but previous to I have awakened my sister she will come to the table and do the same thing that I did. I would get ready in packing my books, Sherlyn my sister, two years younger would be pestering me about how she is better than me at everything but despite this problem, together with Sylvia we will leave the house and she will take us to the catechism. I recall how she used to get very angry at me She would get mad and hit me on the shoulder I will respond and bump into her before telling me I am stupid, but not after I say that a stupid person is the stupid one for saying that a person is stupid, of course, it doesn't make sense at all even so Sylvia will demand for us to stop the fight before, sisters should love each other not fight that fighting is just ugly. I walk behind her and Sylvia she would walk right behind me, that road every Saturday afternoon, I could smell gasoline from my father business that was not far from where I was and overhear the sound of a motorcycle rumbling in the street unrestrained, I looked at the sky, blue with such a pure color of white clouds, I close my eyes for a moment to enjoy the moment.

Guns bursting all around me. Soldiers lying in pain screaming out in pain. Artillery raining down, dirt flying everywhere. Then I hear a bomb whistling down on my position.¨ John?! John?! Are you okay?¨ I come out of a daze to find out it was my boss William asking me if I was alright. ¨Yes Sir. I am fine.¨ I said. ¨Alright then get back to work.¨ William said. So I continued my work until the final work whistle rang. As I walked to my home in mist, I see people on the streets asking for change and begging for the scrapes from the bakery. As I got to the house where I live. When I came into my house my wife was cooking a stew on the stove. She asked, “How was work today honey.” Well I wanted to tell her about my day dream but I decided not to so I just answered as, “ Fine.”