Personal Narrative And Descriptive Essay: Kicking Bag

     When we finally got to the fight, they weighed me in and my coach told me to start putting on my boxing gear.  I wore black trunks with a red flame going down the right leg and an black tank top.  After I put on my gear I started to wait till it was my turn to fight. I started to eat some cashews, but I was too nervous to eat. After a while, it was finally my turn to fight my coach wrapped my hands up and warmed me up.  My coach and I started heading towards the ring so I could fight.  When the bell rung, I rushed towards my opponent and started throwing all the combinations I knew.  By the time that I knew, the fight was over in the first 55 second in the first round. I shook my opponent’s hand and his coach’s hand. I was so happy I won and got a trophy my dad was so proud of me.

I smile and, after moment of peace, I grab a pillow and lightly throw it at his head. It bounces off his head and he glares up at me in disbelief. “Look at you going all soft on me,” I mock.

As I stepped on the bright red and black mats, I could hear my heart beating through my chest. I sat there stretching my arms while attempting to memorize my techniques. The thought of forgetting a technique or part of my form paralyzed me with fear. Uncertainty ran through my head. Questions like, “what if I freeze and don’t know what to do?” and, “what if I can’t defend myself from the black belts?”. I began to regret spending time outside instead of practicing more. I knew I had to perform the techniques as best as I could. A few minutes passed, all five of the black belts

“Life is like a baseball game. When you think a fastball is coming, you gotta be ready to hit the curve.” -Unknown. Baseball is a game, one that is not timed, one that is not rushed either, but is only allowed twenty-seven outs. For some it means everything to them, for some the opposite. Even though it is just a game, the characteristics and necessities that come along with it, is what people don’t understand. Baseball can teach individuals, all ages, the tools they need to help themselves, schooling and their future. Within this comes the aspects of teamwork, self-confidence, and the importance of family.

He sits down on the floor next to my bed and looks over his gun.

The next morning I woke up pressed against the wall, my hair in disarray around my head and my shirt bunched up on the sides. I lifted myself up and groggily rubbed my eyes before doing the usual.

I gave a rough kick to his leg under the table, wiping the smirk off and replaced it with a pained expression. “You’re Blake Lawson and I know you don’t need me to be another person forever in your debt. Are we

"Nice logic. I want to be with you, so I knee you in the balls." I roll my eyes.

"Oh?" I responded after a drawn out silence hoping that he mistook my blatant staring for something else. The smirk he sent my way however said he knew exactly what I was

“I really like what you’ve done to your hair.” His figures run through my short still black hair and then down the side of my face. A smug smirk on his face the entire time.

I bet Tattoo could convince a nun to rob a bank with that smile. Is it sick that I want to believe him? Want to go with him? I know I can’t trust him though. I can’t trust any men.

“Who is cute? You are!” he fishes a small piece of bread from his pocket and holds it out to Spencer. “Do you want bread? I think you want bread! Come on, take bread~!”

He places the coin on his thumb and is about ready to toss it when I exclaim, “Wait! I know what it is that I want to do

I love the way he says “my wife” and how he manhandles me all the way to his room.

He stood there silently, his arms still crossed, staring into my eyes immensely. He raised his eyebrow, obviously testing to see how far I 'll go. I scoff and award him the answer he was searching for.