Personal Narrative: Deceiving Me

My initial perceptions about the students of St. Angela were very stereotypical. Honestly, I expected those students to come from single parent backgrounds and come from a low income household. I expected to deal with students who live life in a survival type of manner. What I mean by survival type of manner is for one to be on defense seeing the type of the children are from the Austin area. Walking in to St. Angela I expected to deal with kids that didn’t listen and know respect for authority. I expected this due to my upbringing in the same neighborhood.

There have been quite a few times where I lied because I thought I would get into trouble. There is one I can vividly remember. It wasn't major but it changed my view on lying. It was when I was in the sixth grade. It was my first year in middle school and everything was new. Math was a lot more challenging. I had a different teacher than I had before in previous years. Math has always been challening. I walked into class on the first day and I was nervouse. I got the general idea of the topics the teacher was teaching. I do the homework just fine. The teacher announce we have our very first test. I studied all weekend. I thought I knew the material and I walked in, waiting to take the test. I thought it was easy and I thought I would do well.

There I am standing alone at the top of Mount Everest. I have everything I need to go back to the bottom. I don’t use any of it. I am a soldier, and my mission is not complete. Alone, I am still not afraid. Temperature is 28 degrees, but I am not letting it affect my skills. I walk alone through the dark, eerie woods. It has been 32 hours, and I have still not completed my objective. I was sent to assassinate the leader of an military trained group. The group was out here training to intercept signal for a helicopter transporting cargo to an unknown military base in the valley of the mountain Everest. I have intercepted their signal and found out where exactly they were located. I found them, and it wasn’t an easy mission. Many

I believe I was not created equally. When I open my eyes to this strange world I feel an urge to run and hide. I am not safe there is no escape.

The other week I made some plans with friends for the weekend. The only problem was that I was scheduled to work on that day. This wasn’t a big deal, as I could simply text my coworkers and ask one of them to take my shift. As I received one excuse after another, I became more desperate until finally someone replied with an “Ugggghhhhh”. This told me that although they didn’t want to take my shift, they probably could seeing as they didn’t give me any reason that they were busy. So how did I convince them? I suddenly changed my approach. Here is the actual, word-for-word text that I sent them. “By the way you're a great person and I'm glad I get to work with you and we're best friends.” Why did I say that? Did I just happen to remember how much I enjoy that person and feel the need to tell them? No. I was trying to get something that I wanted, which was them covering my shift. Now, I may have exaggerated in this example, but this is a very real behavior that we all have used.

Warmly I embrace thee with such an immensely lustful tenderness that I have at last realised that it is uncomplicated for you to overlook the torment I voraciously endure. The blank obscurity in my gaze is overlooked and neglected, all at the fault of the gleeful adumbration I have rashly stationed upon my own shoulders. It is of my own culpability, though I am nonetheless perplexed at your sanctioned naïvety. What right have you that permits this? You do not even attempt to comprehend the matter anymore. Is this but a malevolent deception that everyone I’ve met is associated with? I wail thunderously in agony, yet you only seem to detect the tranquilest of murmurs. Leisurely you seize my sanity on innumerable occasions, provoking my

It was the final night of the camping trip. My family had come to the woods, and having spent two days toughing it out in a tent, we decided to treat ourselves and stay in a cabin. The day was well spent and included fishing, roasting marshmallows, and playing games with my mom, dad, and little sister, Payton. Understandably, all four of us were exhausted. Things started to go wrong when I entered the cabin bedroom.

Cause we're scared to see each other with somebody else” - Drake ‘Doing It Wrong’

I became a liar the first time i lied for no reason and with out help.

“ENGLAND, We are moving, new school, new everything, ENGLAND,” shouted through my head and all of a sudden I was awake. It was just a dream I told myself, but then I looked at my room and there were boxes everywhere.I layed back down and screamed into my pillow until I fell back asleep again. I woke up with a giant migraine and then it hit me, I only had two days to enjoy the last of my town and friends before I leave. So I better enjoy it while I can.

Although most of my time spent there is a blur due to prescription drugs and repression I do clearly remember my moment of “awakening”. The earliest memory I have was living with my mother in Brooklyn on 105th street in the suburban version of the projects. This glorious day wasn’t a storybook some positive romanticized experience or the realization I was a gay (we’ll get to that later). No this was far more important than that it was the day I was punched in the face. Although I don’t condone violence I will say it was an important day because I woke up and also learned the importance of words and the power they have. My power for manipulation was born on this day and I received plenty of opportunities to try it out this new found skill.

I woke up laying down, blindfolded by what I assume to be a black piece of fabric. It smelt similar to a shirt that was marinating in sweat for quite some time. When I tried to move my hands to remove the old piece of fabric off of my face, they were stopped by rope that held my hands close together. I tried to keep clam but, it was tremendously difficult, my entire body was shaking so bad that it resemble a category seven earthquake, and my hands were as sweaty as a whore in a church. I cried for help, my voice high pitched and squeaky, but it felt as if no one had a voice and the world had gone deaf because of the dead silence I received afterwards.

Here comes high school’s senior year. All the stress accompanying deadlines, standardized tests, and deciding my future, has arrived. After being able to maintain efficient grades throughout my high school career, I am faced with my greatest obstacle yet. I must choose my next destination from thousands of colleges. First, I ought to narrow my options. Knowing, although not completely confident, that I will major in computer engineering, I start to search deeper for colleges that offer this program. Wanting to stay close to home, I cross out colleges based on distance. Believing that my biggest motivation is getting the best education, I delve deeper into my research and start to find top rated colleges. I finally

On a recent outing to see a movie with my family I was struck by something no one else noticed. In the film, a well known actress portrays a successful New York business owner who flits from one high powered meeting to another, dines in expensive restaurants and even visits a local bar for a few shots with her employees. She’s seen at home with her husband and child, snuggling in bed; even throwing up into a streetside trashcan ~ all without any obvious hairstyle changes. Hmmm...with such a wide spectrum of commitments vying for her, wouldn’t she take the time to change her style, even a little? Pinned up? Curled? Flipped out or under? Some other style other than tucking her bangs within her mid-length straight hair.

I was embarrassed, feeling pain, watching everyone’s eyes looking at me, and knowing something wasn’t right. I could tell that my knee wasn’t normal. I left the door thinking it was going to be an awesome day, but did not expect the unexpected.