Personal Narrative Analysis

I loved you more than I loved myself. Not even, I was in love with you, and you broke my heart by breaking it off between us without even blinking an eye. When I called you on the phone a couple hours later, you sounded like you absolutely hated me, and that hurt even more. (Don’t get me wrong, though. I’m not trying to sound like a victim. I’m sure you hurt or were hurting too.) We used to talk just about everyday for the past year or so. Not talking to you everyday is so strange. I don’t know what to do with myself half the time. Whenever something happens - whether good or bad - and want to run to tell you about it. I didn’t only lose my boyfriend, I also lost my real best friend, and my first real, true love. I really thought you were the one. After all, we were talking about going on a mini vacation by ourselves in the summer. You were supposed to come to my Abuela’s wedding and spend your 20th birthday with

It was the summer of 2012, my brother Ashton and I were in Hollywood, FL on vacation. We had been fishing since eight in the morning and we were bored out of our minds, so we hopped in a canoe and set off to what is the most thrilling event of my life. We were not prepared physically or mentally for what we were about to encounter.

After reading, I thought about the mental health continuum and how fear, the root of anxiety, was such a universal part of the human experience. While creating the piece I thought about how anxiety blurs out reality, trapping the individual in a swirl of fearfulness and intense worries. It is not considered pathological to be a “worry wart” or a “scardey-cat.” The problem is not the presence of fear, instead it is the overwhelming, debilitating, and persistence of those fears and worries.

To my mind velocity isn’t as significant, as the weight and size of the projectile. The larger and heavier the projectile, the less deflection. That is why the larger pistol calibers are preferable. I possess no experience with bonded bullets. However, I can see how they would be a better option in shooting through laminated windscreens, if the manufacturing process claim is correct that the design will control expansion, have higher weight retention, and deeper penetration. FMJ shares some of these characteristics and therefore in theory at least, if not in practice lesser fragmentation when hitting the windshield and in turn penetration into the vehicle.

Me just like any other human being make mistakes we’re not perfect, but we’re all special in our own ways. Something I feel makes me special is that at a very young age i started playing sports. I now consider myself an athlete. That makes me feel special because not everyone is capable of having to do school work and play sports during school. Sports have also showed me discipline. Another thing that it showed me was how to take leadership and help others.

Did you know that the idea of New Year’s Resolutions came from the ancient Babylonians, around 4000 years ago. They actually celebrated it around May, when crops were planted, they made offerings to the gods, promising to pay off debts and things such as. This was also a way to show loyalty to the king and the gods. Today this tradition, although changed, still continues. With over 78 percent of Americans celebrating it, a lot of resolutions are made. Some of my own include training Spanky, fixing my truck, and getting my driver's license.

There was no one and nothing in sight. The plethora of joyful ducks that were here before were nowhere to be found. There weren’t even any people walking the trail like before. The trees that were once so distinguishable in daylight were now shaded in black and were only recognizable by the shape and size from a far. It seems as if when darkness falls on Higginbotham’s Walking Trail, wildlife seems to scatter and the area becomes desolate.

What I am going to talk about is what one of my main personal narratives are. I feel that one of my main personal narratives would be adaptability. I feel that I am very adaptable as for everything I’ve been through. Throughout my life I have had to adapt to a lot of things.

I was in seventh grade and it was finally summer. This summer I was going to travel around Europe with my family. I was super exited as this was going to be the best trip ever. Then before we left for Europe I was in the pool and I got out. My mom noticed that one of my hips was higher than the other. The next day she brought be to a doctor and they said I had scoliosis. I had no idea what that was. Once they told me that it means that my spine is curved I didn’t really care.

I always loved my father, I gave excuses a plenty for his strange and abusive actions towards me. I lacked his affection, I yearned for it desperately. At age fourteen I started dating wildly, not caring who it was, just that they could lie to me and I would believe them. I love you. How often I have heard this line has made me a cynic. A generalized life story may not be the best way to recollect memories, the bad leaps at you first, pouncing with greasy paws like the ones that struggled with and smothered my innocent body when I was barely fourteen. I still have snapshots captured in memories of that horrible moment, it divides my life, my ground zero. The person I am now was shaped so much by that event, there are places on campus I cannot meander through for fear of memories consuming me. I closed myself on in my room then, took new snapshots for myself, arms legs and stomach covered in liquid rubies, welling up from pear cracks in my skin. Every time I inhaled I swear my chest rattled with sorrow. My words were stolen from me then, the next six months are a blur of doctor’s visits, therapy, and finally the happy canary yellow and fern coloured pill that pulled me out of my

The summer of my eighth grade year I fell into depression. I say fell as a light term; it sucked me in. While my friends were at the river swimming every day, I stayed inside and wallowed in self-pity. There was a light at the end of the tunnel, though, because I found my passion for the written word. It was in books that I found my escape from reality. I loved everything from paranormal romance to historic fiction. Two very important things happened within that summer that impacted my views of reading and writing, I read L. J. Smith’s books, The Night World Series, which really impacted my sight of everything around me, and I got my first journal, which gave me a place to vent.

My thoughts are like knives, stabbing my brain every time I think. I’m stuck in a nightmare I can not wake up from. At this point, I have spent 13 years trying to escape the bullies, but it seems like I am living in a world surrounded by them. Everytime I speak, I say the wrong things at the perfect time. When I look in the mirror, I see a monster now, not a 13 year old girl anymore. I am writing this letter to you, Mom and Dad, to say my final goodbyes. This is a choice that I have to make for myself. I have been going through hell everyday and I’m done. This is not your fault so, please do not blame yourselves for this. I won’t be suffering anymore. I love you both so much and can not express how sorry I

One Year later, I was out picking up mail and checking on the senior, that lived in our building. The senior had their adult children taking care of them, but they worked every day. They hired me to check on their parents after school, I would check to see how they were doing and ask if they needed anything. That was my job every day when I came home from school. For emergencies, Mother had the phone numbers of the children so she could contact them if their loved ones needed medical attention. Because they could not get up and down the stairs, I would bring in their mail. I got paid every Friday, but it was not much. My sisters, brothers, and cousin were like little soldiers as they would stand and wait for me to buy candy for them.

A time I had to make a difficult decision in order to do the right thing would have to be last year when I decided to remain with my partner for the Chemistry Olympics. During this time, some external conflicts were taking place and many students who were competing were worrying less about the competition, and some even quit at the last week before the deadlines for our submissions. In the weeks that followed, more groups had started to regain their footing and started completing their papers and projects, yet my partner and I were having a hard time getting along. Through the months leading up to the yearly competition, one of the teachers in charge noticed how the relationship between my partner and I had become incredibly strained and tense

It’s been a long year. Too much of the past has been difficult to deal with. I’m sure it’s unhealthy dwelling too much on the memories. Perhaps it is time to start over and embrace the beauty in little things. There was too much heartbreak and loss; sometimes I don’t even know how I survived. There were days when it was too hard to breathe, and too easy to cry. Along the way I lost friends, and loved ones suffered from medical issues. But the basis of most of my pain was a boy. Perhaps it’s not surprising, but the same man who became my best friend in my time of need is also the one who broke my heart.