Personal Narrative

I arrived at practice with my shoes laced, hair pulled back, and the mindset that I was unstoppable. I could play against every member of my team and come out the victor on any given day. It was the first day of practice that week, and challenge matches were scheduled to begin. The team went through our daily shuffle of drills, conditioning, and running to prepare for what was lying ahead. While warming up with my friends, I felt great, talking about homecoming, boys, and a variety of irrelevant events. I felt ready. The odds were in my favor and nobody could stop me.

For the first ten years of my life, I had a very normal childhood. I went to a private catholic school in a small town called Westwego. We were about twenty five minutes south of New Orleans. During the summers, friends and family would come over to our house and we would all swim and boil seafood. The summer of 2005 was no different; I was looking forward to entering 5th grade. Fast forward to one week before school is about to start when Hurricane Katrina formed in the Atlantic Ocean. Hurricanes were no strangers to us as we have been through several throughout the years. However, a few days later the storm is upgraded to a Category 3 and is predicted to hit New Orleans dead on. My parents felt it was time for us to leave and we traveled

It was a cold day in November as I scampered out of my Biology class, unsatisfied with the grade that I had received on my exam. I rushed to the basement of my campus’s athletic facility brimming over with frustration and quickly tossed aside my school supplies in exchange for a pair of soccer cleats and goalkeeper gloves. I threw over my grass-stained gray cotton sweatshirt, stepped outside to the bite of an approaching winter and joined my comrades in our warm-up lines. The boys were all laughing and talking about what happened over the weekend as we prepared for another practice. Being surrounded by my teammates made me forget about my worries and allowed me to disappear into the routine of physical activity. My collegiate varsity soccer

At the beginning of my freshman year I was attempting to develop motivation as well as seeking purpose and determining value. Whether in school or during sports or other activities and events in my life, I was constantly searching for motivation towards a goal or achievement.

She carries symbolic bracelets and tangled up headphones and torn playbills. She carries crumpled sheet music, a highlighted play script, a rusty gun and holster, an old calculator, worn out journals for writing fragmented lyrics, passionate feelings, unforgotten memories, and so much more. Twice or three times a week she carries packets of law and a lunch that was packed that morning. She carries a water bottle that is always half empty, or much like herself, half full, depending on how you see it. Wyatt carries the priceless shark tooth necklace she gave him, locked away somewhere unknown. Hannah carries the cheap but meaningful books that she gave her, unread but still valued. Her mother carries the candy she gave her, hard but sweet, a reflection of her soul. Something they all carried in common, was that they all carried something that was given; taking turns, they carried pieces of her shattered heart.

‘’I was on my way to back to school night I was extremely nervous to meet my teacher and when I got there I heard Andrew then I turned around and…’’ One time when I was in second grade I was on my way to back to school night I went to meet my teacher her name was Ms. Pepler. She was nice at helping me put my stuff in my desk but I thought she would be meaner in the school year so when me and my mom got back in the car I said ‘’I think Ms. pepler is going to be mean this year.’’ My mom said ‘’ she seemed really nice at back to school night’’ then I said maybe you're right.’’ Now it is the first day of school and I was nervous because I thought I had a mean teacher and I didn't have any friends it was just me and my cousin. The first day of

It was one of those oddities; though identical twins, they had celebrated different birthdays: first, Molly, born on April 1, 1972, at 11:47 PM, and second came Megan on April 2 at 12:17 AM. Their parents, Meryl and Bill, thought it best that the twins celebrate on their own days and had always held separate parties for them. Bill adored “his girls,” and Megan was probably his favorite. A parent shouldn’t have a favorite child, yet, they all, more than likely do. It’s either the one that they’ve carried some sort of guilt about, for one reason or another, or the one that highly reminds them of themselves. In Bill’s case, it was definitely Megan, he enjoyed her spunk (a quality he thought missing from the other two children). It was his attraction to her high-spiritedness that had Meryl, on countless occasions telling him; “You are letting her get away with

It was a normal chilly sunday on September 13th, 2015. My dad was in the garage with some of his friends watching the football game. It was the Dallas Cowboys vs. the New York Giants. My dad and his friends were making hot dogs and burgers on the grill but I don’t like those so I asked my dad if I could go to the store and get the ingredients to make taco dip. He handed me $20 and I headed off to the store with one of my dad’s friend’s son. The store was at the end of my street so it wasn’t a far walk.

This assignment brought me closure, the making of “The rose that grew from the concrete” brought me to tears literally. My sons birthday took place on a Saturday, and the drawings and final cuts of the paper were made the night before Friday. I made arrangements before hand, and decorated the basement with a Teen Titans theme on Thursday. I was feeling bitter sweet about my sons birthday since he was turning five. I believe that this year was harder one me, since he had just started school for the first time. As I pressed play on my final product a million things ran through my head.

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.

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

I remember the first day of my 10th grade year in high school. Walking down the small hallways that were scented with coffee, cologne, and perfume all assorted together. Right by my side was my friend named Mia Williams. Mia was Native American with long black hair that was in a French Braid, and she was around 5’7, 150 lbs. Every step we took, insisted of us bumping shoulders with other people that were walking in a different direction.

My family never stayed in one place for more than two years at a time. This was a difficult feat to overcome for any child, but when you’re a dependent of Uncle Sam you press with the motion of the aircraft. I was twelve, when that aircraft landed in the desolate wasteland called Sierra Vista, Arizona. This place was going to be the worst place we have ever moved to. I had imagined living in a tipi and spending countless hours cleaning the sand that blew in the flap, so I thought. My childhood could have been as I imagined, but my mother allowed me to be a child that could play hide and go seek, frolic in the trees, swim in the pools regardless of the obstacles we faced as a family.

The worst thing that happened to me was when i was in the fifth grade. One day i was at school like a regular day and then after school while is was in after school program and then my brother and sister dad came and picked them up. I was confused when he picked them up because my mom usually picked us all up and that wasn’t until four O’clock and then one of my moms family friend came in and asked to pick me up. When me and brother and sisters where going two opposite directions i asked my moms friend whats going on and he said that he doesn’t know and that my mom just told him to pick me up. When i got home to my mom i seen her in the living room listening to hip-hop music and crying and i can tell she was drinking because i seen two bottles

The van crept slowly through the Mcdonalds’ drive thru, a semi truck was being unloaded nearby. The pedestrian traffic had finally paused and my father heaved a frustrated sigh as he pulled forward. There was a slight thud.