Personal Narrative

I frowned, confused, but when I got it, I laughed. I said, “Seriously, I can not serve you.”

I love living in a small town, it gives me a sense of guaranteed safety and simplicity.

It's been an interesting year so far, and it looks like it is about to get even more interesting (more about that in a moment). What I wanted to write about in this here journal of mine is a new brand of shoe that I just purchased; they are called Nike running shoes, and I love them. They fit well, are comfortable and seem like they will last quite a while. I just had to have a pair (I think I'm the first one here at school to have them most of the other students have never even heard of them; Neanderthals, I know!). I predict they will be a big hit in the future. Okay, enough about shoes, let's move on to more serious matters, my love life! (just joking journal I have no love life right now). Oh well, I haven't written in here for the past few weeks, I guess I better talk about the events of the month. Let's see, it's October 1962 and a number of events have taken place; some here at the University of Mississippi, some in the United States and some internationally. Many of these events will likely have long-term impact on some very serious matters. Of course, I did not think any event would foreshadow James Meredith being admitted into the University, but, the first Negro being admitted into a higher education institution is an event that has only national implications, while the missile crisis in Cuba, could lead to death to thousands or even hundreds of thousands of citizens in both the United States and in Russia.

I give an exasperated sigh and resume getting the spices I need. I feel his hands creep up to my sides and before I can threaten him again he squeezes, causing me to simultaneously squeal and jump, as well as drop my entire container of parsley onto the chicken. “You bitch!” I fussed, slapping at his hands. “Look what you made me do; I just got that yesterday!”

Sitting in a hospital waiting room, alone, afraid; and waiting for the news; would she be ok? Would she even survive? My nerves were out of control; my heart was beating through my chest, you could literally see it thumping through my top. The beads of sweat racing down my forehead, as if I was in the middle of the Safari dessert. I have been an athlete my entire life, yet I have never felt so physically drained. I look around, my eyes opening, then closing; as if I am coming in and out of consciousness, then suddenly echoed words begin to ring around my ear drums….” Sir…...sir, can you hear me? Sir please, we need to know what happened. We need to know what happened to her. Maybe my motionless state showed my

At the beginning of my freshman year I was attempting to develop motivation as well as seeking purpose and determining value. Whether in school or during sports or other activities and events in my life, I was constantly searching for motivation towards a goal or achievement.

She carries symbolic bracelets and tangled up headphones and torn playbills. She carries crumpled sheet music, a highlighted play script, a rusty gun and holster, an old calculator, worn out journals for writing fragmented lyrics, passionate feelings, unforgotten memories, and so much more. Twice or three times a week she carries packets of law and a lunch that was packed that morning. She carries a water bottle that is always half empty, or much like herself, half full, depending on how you see it. Wyatt carries the priceless shark tooth necklace she gave him, locked away somewhere unknown. Hannah carries the cheap but meaningful books that she gave her, unread but still valued. Her mother carries the candy she gave her, hard but sweet, a reflection of her soul. Something they all carried in common, was that they all carried something that was given; taking turns, they carried pieces of her shattered heart.

Were I to name one thing unique about me, it would be that I’m one of the only people I know who can say from experience which is more difficult; writing a personal essay or surviving a life-or-death, take-no-prisoners spy shootout, complete with a crowd of bad guys, laser guns, and of course, a hero and a sidekick. I’m the sidekick.

I tried to respond, to argue that I agreed with him, but all that came out was my lunch - all over his boots. He let out a noise of repulsion, then buried his boot

The training ground was outside and depending on what we needed it for was able to instantly change its terrain. I walked over to a nearby basket and pulled out an old wooden bow and a quiver full of arrows.

I was an only an 11 year old child with only my dad to raise me up, my mother had passed away from a heart attack when I was only five years old. My dad was a boxer that would always come home beaten up. I would have to patch him up every time that he would lose a fight and come home with cuts and bruises on his head.

I attempted to draw air into my lungs but my throat was too tightly shut by the force of the sash wrapped around my neck. Neither would sound come out, nor air stream in. From afar, I could hear laughter and conversations going on in the near rooms. Louder in my head were muffled noises coming from my nasal passage in its final attempt to breathe in its last breath. Life and death, in this very moment, were all under one roof. My hands, still in my pockets, involuntarily clenched into a fist. My toes cleaved to one another as if to say to each other “We are in this together.” They curved in towards my heel and would have fain clenched into their own fists’. This pendulum of a girl and noose no longer oscillated. Time had stopped. The initial

Divorce, for a child especially, can be a difficult thing to work through. The process of experiencing divorce through the perspective of a child is full of twists and turns and up and downs (mostly downs) and can feel a lot like losing a family member for an unknown reason. You don’t know what happened or how it happened, but you know somehow it did and that is all that matters to you. For the last 5 months, my parents have started the process of going through divorce. For myself, this process so far has been full of anxiety and worry and not knowing what the future entails. All I can say right now is that this event in my life will shape who I am for the rest of my life.

“You know me better than I know myself,” I chuckled, putting the finishing touches on the last sandwich. “Too bad I only have stuff for sandwiches. Hopefully he won’t be too disappointed.”

It was a hot Thursday and we were amidst the last fight we would be having as a couple. We were leaving Bojangles where I bought our dinner, which now that I think about it, probably had him a little fired up. I tried to buy our dinner all the time, but his ego would not allow him to let me do anything nice for him. He