Personal Narrative-An Apology Analysis

Sarah, I know a lot of people feel apologies are powerful things, but I don't think you should be able to excuse your actions with two words. Things change. It doesn't mean they get better. You have to make things better and not hide behind an apology. As you've seen, I'm a thinker. I analyze everything to the core for hours and hours. All I know when I hear your name, is I messed up with you. I truly did. For as long as I can remember, you have been 100% down for me. I remember you first started liking me way back in 8th grade. I remember you sneaking out to the lake to come find me and give me a big hug. I remember you sneaking out of your doggy door late at night to come find me, I remember sitting down on your couch decently far away from

In order to get the help I needed, my mom had to pick me up two hours early from school every day and bring me to Anderson Elementary, where the speech therapist was located. Being forced to leave school early didn't help my social issues. The friends I had turned on me, and I became the weird girl. I no longer had people to eat lunch with, and invitations to birthday parties stopped arriving in the mail. I was mocked on a daily basis by people I had previously considered to be friends. Everyone had their own conspiracy theories about me; it hurt. Along with my new-found social struggles, my grades began to drop and I knew I had to make a

Confidence isn’t everything, right? Wrong. Okay maybe it’s not EVERYTHING, but I believe that confidence is something everyone needs. Being able to appear strong and content with yourself to just about anyone and everything out there is key to even the slightest bit of success.

STOP! DROP! ROLL! 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.

My little sister Anita was born at the time and having a baby sibling around made me feel like a big kid or a parent. I loved holding her and feeding her with a bottle my mom taught me to do while she worked at a night shift (maturation). My fourth grade year is probably the time I went through the most out of my elementary school years. I found out things were getting hectic between my parents. I would see them fight almost every day about money, cheating, and where did they go in their free time. One night when my mom came home from grocery shopping they were verbally fighting and yelling at each other. I heard it from the living room and I went into the kitchen to see them. All of a sudden, I just saw my dad pushed her into the ground and started beating her. She eventually escaped from his grip and ran into my sister’s room. She called the police and they came and arrested him for assault. I couldn’t do much because I just stood there witnessing in shock. They divorced in October while it was the beginning of my fifth grade year. I started to go through depression since the whole thing happened. I grew bitter, unmotivated for school, and even crueler towards my family and animals. I had terrible grades in my report card and I tend to get embarrassed with my teacher yelling at me. I cried over the smallest things that would happen in class. People started giving me sympathy but then got tired of it because it happened often. Around the winter time my mom started to

My education began in kindergarten in 1993. It wasn't easy for me, because school was the first place I ever got to interact with other people, mainly children. Before I started school, I was pretty much kept indoors, and not allowed to have contact with other people, except for members of my own family. This was all because I was a little girl. During the first 5 years of my life, I figured that was all I was entitled to, and even though I hated it, I lived with it. In first grade, I had to interact with other kids for the first time, which was not easy. I did eventually learn that I could make new friends with them, and soon settled down into school. The quality of education that first year was not bad, I learned a lot and grew a lot during that year. I had great teachers too, who really gave me the help I needed. Second grade at that school was a different story though, I had a different teacher, who was not very good, and seldom offered the help I needed. I was also treated like I was lower than the rest of the students. I don’t know what her problem with me was, but it set me back a great deal, both academically and emotionally. When I needed help, it was not given and I was often ignored. She felt that it was not worth it to help those students who needed it. Fortunately, my parents saw this and intervened, first trying to negotiate, then after that broke down, transferred me to another school. The new school was very different, being more structured than the first.

Summer vacation, and school ends for about three months, and then you have as much fun as you can, then back to school… right? Well I had to go to summer school, but it wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be. Everything was going fine, I had a

For two years I begrudgingly walked into Fuller Middle School, sometimes staying home because I had a ‘headache,’ my home, as well as other places I was always resentful, pissed off, quick tempered, and just downright rude. I was a typical middle schooler going through family changes. I wore band tees and ripped skinny jeans to every event my mother would let me--including to school, I constantly violated dress coded until I found my way around authority and the policy, listened to heavy metal, colored my eyeliner on until I looked like a panda, and generally tried to make myself appear unapproachable. That’s when my mom began dating the man who I would eventually call my first lifeline.

Sincerest Apologies from the writer to the reader. After I had written this chapter, I was notified by an “unnamed” Agent, from a “Not to be Named” Government Agency, that the contents of this Chapter of my Novel would not be, well, let me quote what I am permitted to say... “The

In my high school years I faced great hardship because of the abuse inflicted by mother. She moved me to different high schools throughout my high school career to isolate me from my peers and from teachers. My mother did not want me to have a relationship with anyone outside the family because she did not want me to divulge the abuse I experienced in the past and present to any of my teachers. My freshmen year I left Dalton high after only a few months and was moved to Southeast High School. Then my sophomore year she moved me to Northwest High School. I stayed at Northwest through Junior year of high school. The summer of Junior year my mom withdrew me from attending classes in person at Northwest Whitfield and she had me take classes online and dual enrolled at Dalton State College. Once again she isolated me from my peers and put me in a in a situation where I did not have a support group or any high school teachers around to seek help from. When I trend 18 years old my mother kicked me out of the house because she did not want me anymore.

I could have avoided all that trouble if only I had remembered to bring both sets of recovery chains, the 20-footer I always keep under the passenger seat next to my cherry air freshener wasn’t long enough to stretch its limbs across the freezing, deep snow. As I stare at the silver Nissan frontier buried up to its frame in snow and cinder I ponder the possible routes I may be able to crawl along; I need to traverse 30 feet to get close enough to the distressed street tires, screeching and melting the snow as the inexperienced driver attempts to outrace the impassible predicament like the Road Runner narrowly escaping the grips of Wile E Coyote. The absence of moonlight makes perfect circumstances to admire the thousands of stars stretched

Do you think that revision is necessary to identify problems within the paper that you have written? When I first re-read my submission from January I was disappointed with the quality that the paper held. At the beginning of the semester I felt as if my work was not perfect but slightly above average. After completing this semester and revising my paper from the beginning of the semester I have realized that above average was not a true representation of my work. It would not come close to being considered my most quality work, in fact the quality just barely passes for average. My rhetorical choices shifted but didn’t completely change while completing my revision. I expected English 101 to consist of assignments where we argued our opinion

What I Could & Couldn’t Say In American Culture its commonplace for someone to promise they “won’t tell a soul”,after hearing another person’s secret. This phrase is often uttered when the secret is negative. In cases of child abuse these words may not be uttered, but the child is left with the understanding that the incident isn’t to be discussed. The abuser may threaten to do further harm to the victim, if they tell anyone about what happened. In other instances the child may not want anyone else to know because they feel ashamed about the abuse; guilt, and betrayal are also common emotions experienced by victims of abuse. I know because over the past twenty-six years, I’ve experienced all of them. Although, my need to experience the unconditional

Growing up in a small apartment with my mother wasn’t always the easiest. Sometimes I would have to stay with a girl who never really liked me. Even though I always was oblivious to the fact she didn’t like me. When I would stay tonight with her, her and her sister would abuse me because they assumed it was funny. My mother knew but she couldn’t very much do anything about it because she couldn’t find another job at the time. Finding a job was hard for