Personal Narrative Essay

I’m ideally pessimistic, therefore I’m not easily influenced. Receiving a large amount of honor, uniquely I come off as formidable. I’m only 17 moreover, I’m just now starting to find myself. I feel as if without comfort I would perform surpassingly, accordingly I’m precisely individualistic. Throughout my childhood I’ve had various coaches not only in sports, likewise for life. Being adolescents, we imagine our parent to become our role model, opposingly I’m just now finding mine.

in 2014 I had done a lot of fundraising in the past year such as selling about 50 spam musubis a day plus cookies and brownies and even selling bentos and doughnuts ands finally trail mix bars during school. even outside of school I did fundraising from car washes to even mowing yards. eventually I made enough money with the help of all my family to get to go on the trip. I even made more money so I could relinquish it so I can buy gifts and such things like food. I'm not infallible at Japanese because it so happens that I cant read any of the signs that are in japan. when we landed in japan it was amazing because the airport was so huge and had paintings that look so amazing. when we got our luggage, it was pouring rain when we went outside to the bus. it was about an hour and a

I have heard the phrase, “life isn’t easy”, so many times in my life. And I finally realized the truth in it.

It came at a lightning pace and hit you from behind leaving you lying across the edge of the path. I hardly had the chance to stop and take a breath before thinking the worst, you didn’t stand a chance, you were taken off your feet and left for dead, you were motionless and bleeding; but I had to take a chance, I had to do something, I had to try and save you. I sped across the road to your body, checked you had a pulse, before gently moving you over to the side. I was more interested in knowing you were alive before I even thought about calling an ambulance. We were miles from the public streets and houses, no one-else could help. The minutes waiting for help felt like hours; I could feel myself fading away as I could see you slowly deteriorating. I held my hand on yours and held it against your heart, just so that we both knew you were still breathing; silly I know, but it was the encouragement we both needed whilst we waited for salvation. I was in such panic and to be honest, I was an emotional wreck; but you needed a rock so I said with everything I had in me, and beyond my own intuitions; everything’s going to be alright, everything’s going to be ok you know.

“I was getting into my car when I turned around to talk to Emauni and fortuitously hit her with my elbow around the middle of her front neck. She fell to the ground and I checked to see if she had a pulse and, luckily, she was still alive,” at that moment, the emergency truck appeared around the corner with bright flashing lights and a deafening siren heard from hundreds of metres away. They quickly pulled her onto the bright white

I did not meet with Pt. , I was paged by Lisa Micciulla, front desk in the emergency room to please come to the ED concerning an "urgent" situation regarding this Pt. When I arrived in the ED registration area an MGH Security personnel stopped me to talk with Pt's daughter, Charlene McDonald. Pt's daughter explained she was not being allowed to see her father, who she understands was brought to MGH for surgery after a fall. Explained to Ms. McDonald, I was aware of Pt having a gaurdian, and that there was a court ordered visitation schedule between Ms. McDonald and Pt. She reported this was an extreme situation and she showed me text messages she had sent to Pt's guardian, Attorney Tine Hajjar. I advised I could not allow Ms. McDonald access to Pt. Based on the order from probate court. Ms. McDonald has visits with Pt on Monday, Wednesday, and Saturday 11:00 a.m. -4:00 p.m.

Heart beating fast, breathing hard, running for my life. Was this the end? Was my life near its deadline? I was in mid thought before it had struck me.

All of the students nearly jump out of their skin and run as fast as lightning out of the door. All except two, Mckenna and Annie. Mckenna hesitates and lazily wakes up from sleep. She peers around the classroom, and soon her eyes meet Mrs. Williams’s. There was complete silence. “Mckenna, have you finished your test?” Mrs. William asked calmly.

October third of two thousand fifteen, the day was gloomy and depressed, everything had felt off and strange, it had been the day of my non-existent senior homecoming that I was not able to attend. The night sky was dark and lurked over me, stalkerish like, not a thing felt in place. The night haunted me, feeling so vulnerable being alone, wonders and worries filling my head like an overflowing glass as to why my best friend Megan was not getting back to me. My worries had got to the best of me, so I took it to myself to head over to my second home, my best friend Megan's apartment, whom she shared with her fiance Michael, their child Adien, and their best friend, everyone's best friend, Cameron. Little did I know that that would

Chatter rippled through the amphitheater. The students were all disorderly, but for different reasons. Complaints, new love interests, thoughts about forming a team. Even if it was the second day of school, the rowdiness never appeared to have died down from last year—always finding new life in youthful souls and scandalous minds. Nothing or no one was safe from being mentioned, and Syd was one of the more thrilled recipients of the hearsay. It was like a free movie to him.

Hello Mr. Garcia this is Sasha Arcaya id number 0039478 i was in the dance magnet and was going to be a 10th grader First i would like to ask to please hear me out. Around august 21 i switched schools to Southwest Miami senior high school and i deeply deeply deeply regret it. i dont belong in a school like that i am a very classy lady I DON'T act like most girls their, leaving MAS was the worst decision i have ever made in my life! I made my mother cry she hated southwest she thought that i was going to become a bad person. I had all of my friends at MAS when i started southwest the first day i got bulled really badly in mas i was at home. i honestly don't know why i left, i left for the JROTC program in southwest but is that really worth it?

I was in 8th grade, but I walked out that high school gym with my shoulders back and head high like I was the big man on campus. My confidence went through the roof. In one day I had gone from extreme anger with my parents. Then I experienced terror as my parents drove me to the high school. Surprisingly this turned around to confidence and pure excitement for the years to come.

13 year old Valerie Willson had been riding her bike on the side of the road when she had seen a car destroyed from a car crash. Just by the way it looked, there couldn’t have been any survivors she thought. As she went up to the crashed jeep she seen a pile of blood coming out from the jeep. So, she hoped that just maybe there would be some survivors; she highly doubted. Yes, there were two people in there. She couldn’t identify them very well, all she knew was that they were for sure dead. Who was in the driver seat, had gotten their face completely torn off ? The person in the passenger seat had ,literally, been snapped in half. There necks were as well snapped. So, Vallery called the police and reported what she had saw, the police

“Aae!”she screamed once again, ”time to leave!” One by one, everyone filed out the door. I know that they must have been thinking the same thing as me by the unamused look on their faces. The rest of the day was exactly like that. Lunch, field class, and even “Lights out” was a nightmare. Every day went by in a manner of this sort, but that one day… it changed me for eternity.

The final bell rang, and students erupted in a joyful chorus of cheers as summer break began. I sang a melancholy dirge of self-pity. My bitterness increased as I waited for my mother to pick me up. She came at last and I jumped up, anxious to leave forever. Again, Mrs. Thomas thwarted my plans; she came outside to talk to my mother, undoubtedly about my ignominious fate. As they murmured, I viewed the co-conspirators with hostile eyes. I'm a victim, the final sigh of my fifth grade year whispered wearily.