Personal Narrative

One of two. That's how I feel everyday of my life. I'm a twin and that means I will never be complete without my other half. When I was younger, I learned that having a twin does not keep me from things. It's getting to have a person in my life that I don't need to hide from, other than in hide and seek. When I was little, my brother probably hated me as much as I hated him. But we were together all the time. We went to school together, we were in the same class almost all the time. Sometimes, we had the same friends even. We shared birthday parties, cakes, presents, money. Basically the same things we still share now. But between us, we shared secrets. Little things that we thought were so cool. When my grandma gave us money, we split it and made sure not to tell our parents. I went and bought

This post was probably my worst semester of college and I have no excuse for how things turned out with my classes. I'm not going to blame my job or my home life as it was me who failed and I have no one else to point the finger at. I had tried to pass the remedial math course five times previously and I started to lose hope that this one course would hold me back from finishing school. This hopelessness carried into my other courses because at the time I truly believed it was pointless to try in other courses if I can't pass this class that's been haunting since I started attending college.

dear Sean I'm going to start off by saying that I hope I do this letter in the correct format, I did not get much background informations on what this was supposed to all include. but that's okay I'll give it my best shot but with that said I'm not I'm not sure if it'll just being you hearing the this or if it will be read aloud in your tool group I decided that I'm going to write this as if only you are are going to be hearing this. anyways let's get this started you know how much trouble I my emotions at least my emotions that weakness is paper is difficult for me to do simply because I hate showing people my emotions because I hate others being in my business and I'm always so worried about others judging me but with that said for

His eyes are made for the road. Two tornado blue irises meet the highway, looking past the smudges on his lightweight frameless glasses. He shifts his hands along the steering wheel, dodging what hurts most. Noting which movements prevent his worn hands from freezing into twisted positions like cream flowing into black coffee. He wheezes a cough. Loses stability. Regroups. Accelerates.

I wake up at 5:30, five days a week, and each time I try to cram in five extra minutes, I end up having a late start to my day.

I always wanted an all-terrain mountain bike. That finally happened when me and my family went shopping at Walmart for a new bicycle because recently I learned how to ride a bike with two wheels. Due to my practice behind the handles my parents thought since that it was summer and I needed the physical exercise, that I should get a bike. Also that I couldn’t ride my original small dirt bicycle. It was a jolly experience on a large bike for the first time.

I do not remember much from middle school; however I do recall having trouble fitting in and making friends. For the Central Bucks School District, seventh grade marks the beginning of middle school. My awkward 13-year-old self, with bright blue hair, was immersed in a pool of people at Holicong Middle School I had never met before. I had spent the past seven years with the same people and now they were mixed in with this monstrous crowd of new people, forcing me to make new friends. I was not a normal kid by society’s standards, and I still am a quirky kid, but at that point in my life I was still trying to figure out how to behave in a social setting. That was not a simple task for me; I was a hyperactive kid who dyed her hair a plethora of colors. To make matters worse, I was not mixed in with a pleasant group of people.

The bright white screen fills the room as I hold the remote up to the TV. I flick continuously through the channels, hoping something will take my fancy. I pause on a breaking news story. The voice of a woman fills the air as she explains. ‘A runaway escapee and murderer last seen heading towards the South end of Australia has disappeared. Anyone in the areas of’, I reach for the off button as the mumbles of voices drown out as the TV turns off. I put the remote down and shut my eyes. The dark patterns and swirls fill the darkness as I fill my mind with the endless possibilities from some of the deepest parts of my mind. I replay the series of my day over and over in my head. Replacing the mistakes in the day and presenting myself with what

On April 1,2015 I was walking home from school like any other day there was a combination of clouds and the blue sky on that day. My stomach began to grumble like an earthquake I clenched my stomach. I thought “I am so hungry right now”.

I woke up as usual a couple of years ago on September 20, I rubbed my tired eyes with my hands curled into fists. Uncovering my head from the large blanket I had, I was blinded by the brilliant light that hung above my head. A few moments later, after my eyes had adjusted, and my temporary blindness left me, I stumbled out of my bed and tripped to my closet, still dazed from just having woken up. Once I was ready I dazedly walked down the stairs, hanging onto the wooden rail tightly so I wouldn’t fall, though I almost fell more than a few times. My grandmother was sitting in her grey rocking chair, watching The walking dead, she heard me trip off the last step coming down the stairs and turned her head slightly to face me. She started to say

My family is full of musicians. My parents and my grandfather all play in the same wind band, in which my great grandfather used to play as well, so it was assumed that I continue the tradition. For a long time I thought that wind music is old-fashioned and certainly not ”cool” enough. I dreamt of becoming a famous singer making cheerful pop music. I’ve changed a lot since then.

My mom’s anger over the dog upsets me. Last Friday my mom and dad were trying to clean out Spenser's ears. My mom could tell he didn't’ want his ears cleaned because he looked hesitant from the beginning. Right when my mom stuck the first cotton ball in his ear, he started to majorly crawl. My mom threw her hands up in frustration and huffed outside to the front porch where she sat for 20 minutes until she came back in grumbling under breath in annoyance. She was afraid he was going to bite her because he has done that before with my sister. My dad tried talking to my mom, but she just kept yelling. I could feel the thick air from all the stress and tension. SInce my mom gave up on trying with Spenser, she brought up the fact that she

I was scared. No, I was more than scared. Terrified maybe. As I looked out the window in my two bedroom house, I could see a van in my driveway. It was completely dark, I was supposed to be sleeping, but of course, I was not. My mom was at work. I started pacing around, thinking of what my mother said to do if there ever was an intruder. However, I still couldn’t remember, I guess I was too busy with my pacing.

It's hard when people judge you when they don't even know the full story. When my mother past away this Christmas brake it effected me in more ways than I every realized it would. Her death allowed a variety of people such as; strangers, acquaintance, family and friends to view mw completely different from the girl they use to know for years or even the girl they knew last semester.

We just finished looking at the house. I was bored, since we do this all the time. It was hot outside, and I didn’t really like the way the house looked. It was something different, the home was painted in a variety of bright colors which went together well. I wanted to go home and do something else but I was stuck with my parents. I felt like we were running miles non-stop, with no end point, since my parents search for a home all the time! My parents had a looked at each other like I had never seen before.