Personal Narrative-An Apology Analysis

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

From the ages of 8- 14, I lived in a very volatile home. Coming home from school, I never knew if it was going to be a quiet day in my house or if the entire house would be engulfed in screaming. I dreaded the weekends, that meant that everyone was going to be home. Everyone home meant that things could easily go up to flames in just a millisecond. I tried my best to never be home, I would spend the days with my friends. I knew that when I got home there was a 90% chance of everyone fighting. One day in the summer of 2012, things got too heated, and my mom finally decided to move. We packed up everything in a few hours while my stepfather was at work. We moved into my best friend’s home for a few days until we found an apartment within the school district to move into.

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 job after summer school, and that was going fine as well. They say that summer is supposed to be fun and exciting, and it usually is for me and my family. However in July my father started coughing up blood. My father usually doesn’t make it his top priority to go to the doctors, so he waited about four weeks until he really didn’t feel good.

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

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.

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.

I have been procrastinating on sending you this letter. It’s not that I have been too busy or that life has gotten in the way. The truth is that I have found difficulty writing you an apology because I am disappointed in myself and embarrassed. However, this isn’t and shouldn’t be about me. The truth is that I owe you a sincere apology for my actions. I asked you for help completing an assignment and I completely took advantage of your kindness and willingness to help a fellow student. I knew that you would be more than willing to help as you have always been there to offer guidance both personally and academically. I know that you only offered your mind map as an example of how you did the assignment. I took that example and used

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...

Similar to Accountability Counsel, I have used my skill set to amplify the voices of communities whom are most in need of protection. As a Student Attorney with the Janet R. Spragens Federal Tax Clinic, I represented clients that in addition to facing the ordinary obstacle of understanding the tax code, faced language barriers and lack of familiarity with U.S. legal system as some of them were undocumented. Additionally, I interned with the Broward County Florida Public Defender’s Office in the Juvenile Division, where I assisted the chief of Juvenile in representing some of South Florida’s most vulnerable children.

Even if it is just apologizing for something you have done, it can make a big difference in the minds of most people. It takes a big person to apologize for something, even though deep down you do not necessarily want to. In the mistake that I made recently, which I do not really want to get into details about, I wrote a letter to apologize for what I had done. I wanted to write it but at the same time I didn’t. I knew as soon as it happened that it was wrong and I should not have done it, but at the same time I am not really sure if I wanted to apologize for it.

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

In school today, I hoped to go to June T and apologize to her for how I acted. Things looked fine and I could see June T in her desk, ready for the school day. I was walking up to her until I was stopped by 3 kids. The shortest of the 3 had come up to me and sneered, “Well, if it isn’t June the fool.”

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