Personal Narrative : A Personal Essay

It all happened so quickly. One moment, a boy was waving to his friends, and the next, he was lying in the street. I heard the screech of brakes and a loud crash. The car’s windscreen was completely shattered. People were screaming and crying, and without thinking, I ran into the street, knelt down beside him, and called 911.

Hey, it's me as usual. You’re never going to read this but I just need to get some things that have been on my mind out. Lately I find myself listening to X‘s album 17, and it makes me think about so much stuff that I had put aside and hidden somewhere in my head during the beginning of summer. some which I can't even fathom the words to explain. what makes letting go of things so hard is that I promised myself that I would never abandon anyone or let go of the things I care the most about. I never wanted to turn out like my birth mom, I didn't want to be able to forget about someone as easily as she forget about me or even when she forgot about me in the hospital the day I was born to go buy drugs because she cared about that more than her own child. I've always promised myself that I will be the person she was never able to be, that's what makes it impossible to just leave when someone just gives up on me. I've figured out why I'm the way I am, everyone says I have bad taste in guys but they couldn't be more wrong. I've never admitted liking someone till

A cliché way to start a personal essay on why someone would want to go to into medicine would go along the lines of “As I stare towards the future with a decision to make, I look at my own personal experiences and the experiences of those around me for guidance.” Afterward, they would premise their argument by talking about at how they look at medicine as an exciting career option because it is a field perpetually at the cutting edge of discovery, continuously opening newer vistas of human thinking, and knowledge. They then would conclude their argument by talking about how the fulfillment provided in healing physical, and psychological wounds, scars, and bruises go beyond the satisfaction produced elsewhere. While this is all good and true

In life do we see that everyone else is wrong or do we not want to admit that we are wrong? In my eyes I don't want to admit that I am wrong because I don't want to seem stupid. I ran into a situation last night during soccer practice that I want to understand where the other people are coming from. In this situation people are saying that a group of us Seniors on the soccer team are favorites and in my eyes I don't see that at all.

I speeded up, crossed the bridge, and headed north to Santa Clara. I was going to college. After so many years, I was still moving. Ten minutes later I finally saw it, the Santa Clara University.

Some days begin like any other, and then end in a way so unexpected, so devastatingly sad that it takes your breath away. You are left with questions like how could this be? Why did this happen? To which there is no answer. Your brain begins to hypothesize and rationalize and pick apart every detail, I should have known. There must have been a sign I missed. I live with these thoughts still, like a an incomplete jigsaw puzzle sitting on a table of sadness, in a house of guilt, on a long dark road of regret.

I wake up in my shabby bed, my eyes bloodshot and my lips facing the pillow, I let out a small scream. There's something satisfying about screaming into a pillow, nobody can hear the anger and sadness in your voice. Last night was pretty rough, Dave (my father) beat me for getting a C in maths, I tried, I really did, I just don't understand maths. It's not like art, art makes you feel something, like a world of your own, where only good happens, and abusive dads and bullies are non existent, art's filled with emotion and creativity, maths is just numbers on a page with right or wrong answers.

All of the sudden we hear a high schooler roughly 5 feet 5 inches with red hair, scream at us, “If you take two more steps you’re going to get really hurt!” instantly Mason and I stopped and looked at each other. Mason looks at me and asks what we should do? I see a car coming and say “we will run and try and keep up with the truck so we will have light from their headlights and they won't be able to get us!”. We decided to use that idea and start running, trying to keep up with the truck. Unfortunately, the truck was speeding and going about 35 MPH in town. The truck zoomed by us, leaving us in the

I have been writing since I started school, and I have always been passionate about writing. When I was young, my parents couldn't afford books, so I decided to write my own. I wrote about dolphins, and I would read my stories to my parents, and they always made me feel proud to be a writer. They made me feel like one day I would be the best writer ever.

“Trick or treat!” I say, nearly breathless. The pencils in my hair are slipping, my bathrobe is stifling, and we’re running out of time. “We’re with the Key Club, and we’re trick or treating for canned goods to donate to the food pantry. Do you have anything that you’d be willing to donate?”

My parents are Lori Wenthold and Randy Kerian, and I have one brother, Cody, who is 9. I have nine black, laying chickens, one dog, Butch, who is an eight year old white lab. I also have two cats, one outside and one inside, their names are Buddy and Mittens, and four fish. I have lived near Cresco for twelve years, but last Christmas I moved to a house near Protivin. I have many friends, we all get along, play sports, and hang out together.

Sweat glistened on my face and the uncomfortable sparring gear only made the searing heat even more unbearable. I was about to start my three-on-one sparring drill for my Taekwondo first degree black belt test where I had to defend myself against 3 opponents. I struggled to cope with their attacks and keep moving at the same time, and barely a minute in I was already exhausted. I had failed.

I have built strong relationships with friends, and met many new ones, that I could only have achieved by spending hours running through the woods. There is a beautiful camaraderie that only teammates can have, I have learned that if you want to go fast, go alone, and if you want to go far, go together; this mindset has made me realize that in order to achieve things you must surround yourself with a strong team that builds each other up. Furthermore, that all parts are important, no matter how small and that cheering for everyone, regardless of speed, builds morale and encourages everyone to perform better.

Of the three essays I wrote this term my favorite was my personal narrative. I had never put much thought into my relationship with literacy. It was a topic I thoroughly enjoyed and I think it shows. That essay was the strongest paper I wrote. I think the strength came from writing about something I know so well, myself. The other essays I had trouble connecting with the topics and it made it difficult to come up with expanded thoughts and ideas write about. I think the biggest strength I have is being able to move through each idea and connect everything together. I am a very simple and straight forward writer. My greatest weakness is my inability to put words onto paper. I have the hardest time trying to sort my ideas out and create comprehensive concepts. I can usually get the big ideas down but have trouble explaining further and breaking it down. This is most obvious in my Modern Times analysis. I did a very good job retelling the film but my own opinions were few and not as developed as they could have been. I think it could have helped if the topic was something I found more interesting because I can talk about movies all the time.

Irked at the fact that I have had this same conversation for the hundredth time without ever being able to retaliate, my lid tumbled off and I finally bursted.