Personal Narrative-Book Romance

So it goes kinda like this: The day before I left for Pensacola, I was told "Have an open mind, you don't know who you are going to meet down there", so I went in like I would any other social situation, and just try to keep to myself until I have felt out and become comfortable with the situation. The original plan was to not get close to anyone, especially since it was gonna be a week long thing then we would be done, and we'd all go home and eventually forget about each other, but things went differently. They started off the way I planned, then I got to know you, and I made the mistake of getting attached because quite frankly, you had topped out everyone I'd previously met and I tried to hold out hope that maybe something could work in

The Romance Narrative is rife with traditional literary tropes. If you’ve read such tales as swashbuckling wandering knights facing magic dragons and other such impossible odds, then you have an idea of what this genre is about. The tradition dates back to the epic, and can be seen in early mythological tales such as the Illiad, or the Odyssey, and early English stories like Beowulf, Sir Gawain and the Green Knight, or the Arthurian tales. They include adventure and fantastical elements; heroes battle villains to determine if good can triumph over evil.

By the same token, the romance fiction genre pivots on the presentation of “women’s triumphs over systemic inequality” (Jagodzinski 9)¬–that is, Caucasian women’s triumphs, as the romance fiction genre “seldom extends that kind of concern to other marginalized groups” (Jagodzinski 9). The romance fiction genre’s endeavor to “debunk ideological justifications for women's subordination offers little insight into the domination” (Crenshaw 155) of women of color, and the messages that correlate with the genre’s narratives are “overgeneralized at best” (Crenshaw 155) as a consequence of the narratives embedment in solitarily Caucasian experience. Disagreeing with this model of romance fiction, Jagodzinski proposes that romance fiction authors who “look beyond just patriarchal oppression to consider other types of systemic oppression, like racial oppression” (Jagodzinski 9) create a new subcategory of romance fiction: intersectional romance fiction, as various forms of identity-directed oppression “are considered in conjunction with one another” (Jagodzinski 9-10). The conflicts within intersectional romance fiction often “demonstrate how the maintenance of power is invested in the oppression” (Jagodzinski 150) of those who fail to meet the dominant standards of what the average member of society should appear as. When an author deliberately distinguishes “each character’s various avenues to power based on [their] identity” (Jagodzinski 40), the audience is naturally made

On October 13th, 2013 I met the man of my dreams his name is Justin Fever, and he forever changed my life. I knew him in high school, he was the quiet guy and I was the popular gal. We actually went to the same college, and he sent me “DMs” and always Tweeted Me. His messages stated, ….. In college we didn’t have any classes, but he asked me out for dinner, and I said yeah, sure. We met for dinner at Sparrows Tavern in New York, highly expensive, but scrumptious. He made a joke about us two having a thing for each other. I panicked, and said “no” casually, because history has taught me that only bad things happen from there. As I slowly walked to my car on the way home, I relived every moment of this magical evening. He could be my soul mate, I thought.

“We need to know what happened last night, we recognize you were smoking marijuana and drinking, we believe something else caused your blindness.”

I felt my face heat up in embarrassment. It made me feel as bad as Prompto, I didn’t realize I was that jumpy.

He has no mother? I couldn't believe it. I was in a state of shock. Why would Jerry lie to me? I began to cry and immediately left the orphanage. Took my keys and drove. Just drove. I didn't know where I was going, I just needed to get out of here, this town, this state, this country. I felt betrayed. Tears rushing down my cheeks, my eye makeup all over my face. I was a mess. After about an hour, the sky was pitch black and I decided to go back. There was no point in running away. That little boy shouldn't affect my life whatsoever.

Anyway, back to Spencer. I was leaning against the wall, and then I someone ran into me. I stumbled and fell sideways, right into Spencer. For a couple seconds I couldn’t figure out what happened. All I knew was my head kinda of hurt and there was beer spilled all over my shirt. Someone held out a hand and pulled me up. That someone was Vivian. At the time, the only thing I knew about Vivian was that she scared the shit out of me. Two years prior to that day, she looked a lot like Alice, actually. Cute blonde hair, bright blue eyes, wore little dresses to school. Then she changed. She died her hair black, got a nose piercing, and I hadn’t seen her in a dress since. I hadn’t even talked to her in several years when she pulled my beer-soaked

“We'll keep it casual. I'll just drop by the coffee shop a couple of times a week for a visit.”

Nux watched the desert go by through his side window, letting his mind wander. During the time with the Wives, he had seen so much. He had obviously seen different groups of people before, the ones that he and the other War Boys fought and killed when out in battle or on supply runs. At the time, all he saw them as were threats, angry beasts to challenge him on his way the Gates of Valhalla. Something put there to prove his worth.

Helen looked down at it before pushing it out of the way and pouring some creamer into the coffee. "I swear, I don't understand how anyone lives like this. Grace, you need to come home. We can have some shippers pack up your things and have them delivered. You can stay with me and Angel until you get back on your feet."

Crystal flicked her ear as she finished catching a fish. She stretched her paws as she thought about what it would be like to be in a Clan. Crystal padded off to her den, which was a small-unused badger cave right beside the foot of a tree. She carefully ate her fish; she tried her best to be quiet. Crystal did not want FeatherClan to hear, scent, or notice her. If they did, Crystal shook with fear as she thought. They would probably cave in my home, and then throw me out. . Then I would have nowhere to go. I would be homeless. I would have to sleep underneath trees and travel continuously. . She sighed before curling up in her underground cave. She continued to eat her fish. When she finished she groomed her pelt and went to sleep.

I was searching through my closet for a nice dress to wear when I heard a knock on my door. I turned around to see my mother leaning in my doorway.

Shortly after the call, they decided to come to me and my friends house. Again, I never considered the fact that wherever Marco goes, so does my sister. My friend answered the door as soon as he heard the knocking. If you were to look outside of the window, you would see a kind and gentle man, and a slightly enraged woman that was around half of his size.

Then, one day, Noel met the guy. His name was Austin. He was the sweetest, handsomest guy. After talking to him for a while, she learned he went to the same school as her; furthermore, she knew he was different from others that she tried to get to know. Austin acted like a “prince charming” figure. Noel would get online every day and talk to him until one day he asked for her phone number. He said, “It would be easier for us to communicate.” She quickly gave him her number, and he signed off, “Goodnight sweet girl. Talk to you in the morning.” The next morning was the happiest day of her life. Austin texted Noel saying she should get online because he has something that he wanted to tell her. And at the speed of light, she rapidly got online. He inquired; a question she’s been waiting for.