Personal Narrative

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

Like the beginning of every good soap opera, everything was normal in the beginning. I lived with my mom and it had just been us for my entire life. My mom had began to see a man. As it turns out, this man would take our happy and simple world and flip it upside down.

I slowly sit up and rest my back against the headboard of my old bed. Closing my eyes and taking everything in that has happen since I’ve woken up. Being in my old room, brings back a lot of memories of when I used to live here as a child. Moments with James, moments with my mum. I let a tear escape my eye, quickly wiping it away. I can’t let it get to me anymore. It was five years ago. A few more tears escape and I go to whip it away again when light bounces off the scars on my arm.

I grew up as a creative, very imaginative person. My imagination was always going, 24/7, going like Lebron in the paint, it couldn’t be stopped. I would stay up some nights imagining myself as a cop, a football player, basketball player, astronaut, truck driver, you name it. I imagined myself being anything I wanted to be. But how I got to be so imaginative is because of something I didn’t think until I began to write this essay. I was raised in a small town call Crossett, Arkansas, above the border of Louisiana. This town is a town in which I call a “chill town.” Everybody knows each other, and when pass by in your cars you can wave and give a bright smile and they’ll do the same back. Usually on a weekend you can find mostly everyday in their

S: Today the client was on lunch duty which means she was helping the kitchen staff in serving food to other students. After this, the client was able to help and engage in developing a treatment plan. It was first discussed what P.C would like to work on over all. She stated that her goal should be improving her friendship with her classmates and improving her feelings. Her goal was set to improve social and emotional functioning. It was decided that the objectives would include improving her self-esteem and engaging with her peers more. It was then discussed the action steps that will be taken place for each of these objectives. It was agree upon that P.C would write in a journal about her feelings and focus on positive feelings. She explained

It felt like Christmas morning. In June. Ripping open the package, I couldn’t remember ever being more excited. I finally had it. The Apex 37. The newest, nicest, cleanest looking longboard to be released, and I was lucky enough to have it. I tore open that box as fast as I could, ripped the plastic off, and there it was. The most beautiful slab of wood I had ever seen. A clean strip of carbon fibre traced the center length of the board from tail to tail with the detailed “Original” logo placed perfectly in the middle. The crisp metallic trucks glistened on either side, and connected to them, the bright purple wheels, freshly ground for the perfect, buttery finish. My heart filled, and my passion fueled. I will never forget the feeling of standing

Highschool was always a rough time for me, I had no idea where I was going and what I was going to do with my life. One of my teachers had a talk with me and suggested I join the military. I followed his advice and chose the branch that best fit my goals; The U.S Air Force. To me joining seemed like the easiest and best way to go. I always dreamt of flying planes so working on them seemed like the second-best option for me.

All I could think about was how bad my legs hurt. I had scratches from branches that tore away at my skin on my arms and legs, a terrible headache and my clothes had so many rips and tears that I couldn’t remember how I got. I couldn’t remember anything, not my name, what had happened or anything. I just didn’t know. All I knew is that I had been stumbling through the woods for quite some time. Well until I came to a road with tons of cars coming from every direction. I stepped one foot at a time onto the noisy road filled with commotion and so abruptly it all went black. I woke to nearly blinding lights shining above me and looked around to see the room of a hospital. As I tried to sit up I experienced a piercing pain that lasted until I finally

“You can have it if you want,” my father said, pointing to the Playboy magazine on his desk. His index finger interrupted my line of vision, and my eyes shot up to make contact with his.

It was the final night of the camping trip. My family had come to the woods, and having spent two days toughing it out in a tent, we decided to treat ourselves and stay in a cabin. The day was well spent and included fishing, roasting marshmallows, and playing games with my mom, dad, and little sister, Payton. Understandably, all four of us were exhausted. Things started to go wrong when I entered the cabin bedroom.

“Thanks for the breakfast, dad! See you tonight!” he called as he ran out the door, locking it behind him.

The evening before school, Edwin was gathering his supplies and selecting what he wants to wear. His father asks him why he had been acting so strange. Edwin glanced at his father with a grimace. His father tried to shake it off and ignore the rude remark. A few seconds passed and his father left the room.

Its February 13th, it is a cold snowy night, I am just getting out of my basketball game. I have tons of missed calls from my mother and sister. I get in the car I call back no one answers, so I start to drive home. I received a call back, it is my sister. I answer “What’s wrong? Is everything okay?” I can tell she has been crying. She answers back with her sad voice “I will tell you when I get home. I am at the hospital right now.” “I am right by the hospital I will come there. Just tell me what happened.” I am thinking in my head of all the possible things that could have happened. She says “Jeremy died.” “Are you serious? How?” “I will tell you when I get home.”

It was late at night around 10:00pm, I had just got out of school. It’s dark and windy, and there is no soul in sight. I was scared out of my mind I usually get out of school at 7:00pm but tonight I stayed back for extra credit, and all of a sudden when I looked at my watch I noticed it was 10:00pm. I frantically walked to the bus stop which was a few blocks from my school in hopes that I could catch a bus ride home, but there was no bus. Then I decided I should walk to my boyfriend’s house and see if he could walk me to my house witch was a scarier neighborhood then his. But when I got there he wasn’t at home he was still downtown at his dad’s store. Now I’m all alone, and something in my gut told me that tonight wasn’t going to end well for me.

It’s totaled now, has been for the last month or two. But this is before that when it took me all the way to a new place two hours away. Away from my friends away, from my family, it drove me away from everything. The 2009 tan Chevy trailblazer with cloth interior that took us places, all kinds of places, but my favorite by far was Cañon City. Tears started to form in my ocean blue eyes.