Personal Narrative Analysis

While you're working at the rescue station, the phone rings of a missing father who hasn't been seen in 5 months after going to Mount. Everest. You think to yourself, "Why should I save them? They risked their life, so now you are going to risk ours?" Well, this is what you have been training for, for half your life. Training for this long will finally pay off. The man's life matters too and it is in danger, so he needs to be saved. People do have the right to rescue services when they put themselves at risk.

I do this for the ones who sing in the shower instead of a stage. with the heart of a poet filled with

In my dream I was playing at the state soccer championship, and we were versing Spencer. It felt good being able to play this game because no one ever believed we would make it this far. Back to the dream the game just started, and we were trailing behind 1-0. We were all nervous because we thought that it was going to be a 10-0 game like always. All of a sudden I could hear someone out in the fans saying “JUDITH”, and cheering me on. So this made me get pretty excited, and I begun to play so much better, as this happens I pass the ball to Julie, and she just happened to be a the top of the 18 all alone. She shot… AND SHE SCOOORED. The game was now tied. Now there was only 3 minutes of them game left and Julie has the ball at half. (I decided to let Amber go up as a midfielder, and I would stay back to take her spot as a defender so she could make her first and last goal of her HS career.) Now there was a minute left Julie passed it to Amber, and Amber was at a good spot where she could shoot with her left. She took the chance, and scored just that moment we were up by one, and we ended up winning.

As a 16 year old young man, when I think about responding to a writing prompt asking me to describe an event that I consider a launch pad towards gaining maturation, the first things that should come to my mind are getting my first job, graduating from high school, or being accepted into the college of my choice. This was not the case for me. The event that I feel has marked my transition from childhood to manhood would be the conversation that my mother had with me after the shooting death of Trayvon Martin.

The summer before my sophomore year, my cross country coach challenged our team to run 400 miles over the summer in preparation for the oncoming season. Numerous athletes on our team participated, including myself. Equating to running over four miles a day, it was not going to be effortless, however the challenge sparked a drive for success in me, and I was determined to satisfy that drive. In the final weeks, I grew excited as the finish drew near, and I eclipsed the 400 mile mark with a day to spare. Success soon followed, as for the first time our coach could remember, our team won our home meet. Overall, we were much more competitive as a team that year, and it was a fantastic experience. Partaking in those experiences again was something

Up until I was thirteen, I had been in the same school district and had been in classes with the same kids since preschool. Then between the ages of thirteen and fifteen my family and I moved three different times between two states. In that short amount of time, I had to learn to adapt to teaching methods, school rules and the type of peers I encountered at every new school I attended. I believe I am fortunate for these experiences because I never knew how hard it was for me to adapt to unfamiliar situations until we moved and it became necessary for me to do so. I struggled at the first school a lot and hardly had any friends, due to cultural differences between the rural Wisconsin town that I was from, and the poverty and drug stricken reservation that I had moved to.

In conclusion,it's difficult to find an effective solution for this issue,however it can be treated and managed in several ways such as , improving self confidence , healthy diet and using self-help . Surrounding oneself with individuals who understand what one is going through and are there to encourage and celebrate every step of the recovery can greatly boost the sufferer’s spirits. Eventually, when an individual’s success assists in encouraging other persons having anxiety disorders, it makes one to feel much better . Anxiety is the feeling of horror and panic that results from being tense about a particular situation in one's day to day activities . Fear and thinking of future are to major factors that make people anxious . In addition

In a series of unfortunate, clumsy events, I found myself walking home at three o’ clock

I traveled for the next few days alone. It was a struggle to find a source of food everyday. I was running low on energy and feeling dehydrated. It was getting to the point where walking through the sand was a struggle. I have gone without food for the last few days because of exhaustion, but I tried to keep moving. I could feel my body reaching its limits. I had gone too long without food, and the water I had was not quenching my thirst. A short time later, while trudging through the sand, I tripped. I laid there not having the strength to lift my body weight. I could barely fathom how death was so close. I didn’t want to accept it, but I had no fight left in me, no strength. My vision started to go in and out, and I slowly surrendered to

BOOM, BOOM, CRACKLE, goes the thunder as the plane takes off to NEPAL. ‘I do not think we are supposed to fly in this kind of weather’ Tim said.

My background contains two adolescent years in the better neighborhoods of hydro electrically powered Zaporozhye, Ukraine, ten developmentally critical birthdays celebrated unceremoniously, while calling home an area in Sacramento known among locals as an actual antithesis to diversity, and a remaining lifetime enduring the tell-tale inevitable mishaps of time. Today, I house within me complex emotional ranges assiduously spattered along the spectrum of human expression, starkly vivid experiences collected through several once-in-a-lifetime moments, and, hopefully, a holistic identity deemed worthy by institutions purposed for passionate academic pursuits.

The first time I realized that writing was what I wanted to do in life was on the corner of Powell Street in San Fransisco. I had just ended a call with my comatose grandfather, telling him I loved him and goodbye. Standing in the middle of happening San Fransisco, I’d bid the longest goodbye to my best friend and all I could think to do was write out how I felt. I sat in the closest McDonald’s, drank copious amounts of coffee, and wrote for hours on end. While being a Jane Austen and Sylvia Plath lover, my bawling over a styrafome cup was less than romantic, but at the time, there was nothing stopping me. After befriending the 24-hour staff at McDonalds, I returned home and kept on writing. This story has always stayed with me as the day I figured out my coping mechanism, my love, and something that has shaped every aspect of my life. I often think that maybe I have known my whole life that I was meant to write through constant reading and writing, but it wasn’t until that day that I really understood what it meant to be driven to do something forever.

After skipping school, which became habitual for me, I would wake up and walk into my grandparent’s kitchen. When I wanted to fake being sick, I would always stay at their house because my grandmother was ok with me playing hooky. She would question me asking, “Why do you feel sickly” or “Why are you staying home?” This usually was returned with the proper response, “My head hurts.” I did this with the intention she wouldn’t find out whether I was actually sick or not. After two hours or so, she usually had it figured out. My only worry was the dread of my grandfather coming home for lunch to reprimand me for skipping school. I was not worried about myself because there happened to be a competition waiting at the house when my grandfather arrived.

Ever since I was young, my parents always taught me to give back others. At the time, I never realized how difficult of a lesson this must have been for my parents to teach my sister and I. Looking back, my parents sacrificed a lot of creature comforts to make sure that we had three, square meals a day, a roof over our head, and clothes on our backs. In the last 10 years, I have been able to look back at my early childhood and realize that no matter how little we had, we always managed to give back in some way shape or form. At first, it was volunteering our time and as time passed, we were eventually able to contribute more. Since I was old enough to volunteer, I began giving my time and money to food pantries, cancer research, homeless shelters,

People say a dog is a man’s best friend, but this dog was not my best friend. It happened Thanksgiving morning, the weather was cold as ice, but I forgot to wear my jacket. I was walking one of my dogs( and luckily she was not a runner). I went on the trail I usually go on. One part of the trail is touching the fences to backyards. Unfortunately, a dog was outside in one of the backyards.