Personal Narrative Essay : The Day That Day In My Life

After 13 years at a private, Christian school, walking onto campus each morning begins to feel like stepping in front of the camera with a mugshot placard reading, “Queer, Agnostic Socialist. Approach with Caution, Attack on Sight.” I’ve worn the sign proudly, refused to cover it up or put it away and even shoved it in peoples’ faces as a sort of challenge. As a boy twice my size confronts me in the doorway to class, I only turn my rainbow-painted cheek. Homophobic teacher? I’ll write and sign him a letter even after he’s gone. Rude questions about my identity slinging through the halls, and I’ll answer with a challenging smile.

Mai was the last to arrive; she always was, putting off leaving the lonely chill of her own small apartment at the heart of the city to the very last minute. She flashed an apologetic smile to the group as she flipped the kitchen chair around and slid into her seat, her arms folded against the backrest, her chin resting on her hands. It was strange, seeing the team in such an informal setting. Surreal in a way that made her heart thud rapidly against her chest, and her stomach twist uncomfortably. Here in Robin’s cabin it was less like they were strangers fighting for the same battle. It was almost domestic, with the siblings curled together on the couch, and Wendy draped easily in the overstuffed chair, like they were an actual team.

I remember coming off of the bus from school when I was in kindergarten. I couldn’t have been younger than 5, maybe 6. I got an A+ on my math test which, granted, was just adding and subtracting 1-digit numbers, but I was still excited. I skipped along the sidewalk until I reached my almond-colored door that towered over me, reminding me of my whooping 3’0-foot-tall size. When I opened the front door, my mom was waiting to greet me.

It all started when I had 14 years, 21 years ago. I invited some friends to my house and we decided to go the park. We played for like 2 hours and it was getting late, so we decided to return to my house. We were walking in the sidewalk when, suddenly, a black SUV stopped right next to us and four men with ski masks got out of the car. They put shirts on top of our heads so we couldn't see and they threw us inside of the van. After that, I don't remember anything because they knocked us out. After a couple of hours, I woke up in a big room. I started to search for my friends, and I saw them already awaken. Then, the group entered with their leader and a man with a bag. The leader told us that we were going to pay for what our parents did. He started with Michael, which was the shortest of us.

August 24, 2016, It’s the big day. First day of school! It was a big deal for me because it’s my first time attending school here at James Logan High School. I woke up early in the morning so I can get ready immediately, I don't wanna be late on the first day. When I got up, I feel like I don't want to go school and I just want to get some more sleep. Hahaha. Had breakfast then took a shower, I can't help myself from getting nervous because I'm new here, I keep thinking about what if I get lost? What if all of my classmates are good at English? What if I can't make any friends? I kept thinking about things as I get ready for school. Once I got dressed, I packed my lunch, then my father drove me to school. I tried to focus on what am I going to do. My first period is algebra, we were introduced and the teacher was nice

I watched from the hallway as my parents finished packing her clothes for their weekend away on business. “Sarah?” called my mother as she folded a cream colored blouse. “Right here,” I responded as a walked into the messy bedroom. “I just want to make sure you are all right before we go. I put a list of emergency numbers on the kitchen counter, stocked the fri-”

My alarm clock yet again pierces my  eardrum.I pick it up and throw it on the floor making it bounce all over.Since I usually take forever in the morning I go in my closest put on a basketball Jersey my New York Yankees hat and my converse.I then walk out and go to the bathroom to brush my teeth.I am so hungry so

I knew Landon was up to something when he woke me up with breakfast in bed, which, in my opinion, was a lovely way to wake up.

It was a dark night and I was watching a movie called “Jason”. I’d just moved into my new apartment. As I pondered off to wonder why my landlord told me not open the door that's right by my front door. Which was really weird. As I walked by the door to leave my house I get Mesmerized to the door. I stop myself to not open the door. Everyday I walk past the door I get an ghostly feel. So I know something is wrong. I think to myself “I should go to the landlord’s office”. As I lay down to go to bed I feel that someone is watching me. As I turn to the left of me, I see a huge shadow. Like if it’s an Ogre following me. So I ran to my room and locked the door just to know I was safe.

There are many pivotal points in a person's life which mark important milestones. The marking of one of these milestones for me all started when I was four years of age. My dream was to become tall enough to reach the twizzlers that were kept from me atop the fridge. This is an important memory I have from when I was young because it taught me how important it is to have dreams.

One beautiful day i was feeding my horses and chickens, suddenly i spot something moving in the woods, i hear mom call for breakfast but i wanted to see what was moving out in the woods. I called back to mom “be right there”, and i headed toward it, i was near it, a moment later it was gone. I walked 1 step in the woods to make sure ,and i heard mom call “come on”

It was a beautiful Monday morning. The dew on the grass and the smell of fresh flowers made everything appear great, except for the fact that my mom wasn’t feeling well. I knew something was wrong, because she’s never sick. She is the type to deal with pain and not bother anyone about it, so when she said she was skipping work, I got worried. She told me to get ready for the bus, but I refused. I needed to help her. I was an only child and my dad died when I was younger. If I left her, she’d be all alone. I gave her some Aspirin for her headache, suggested she lie down, and told her I wasn’t going to leave her side. She demanded (in her quiet, kind voice) that I must go to school. I didn’t want to argue with her, so I finished getting ready and walked down to my bus stop. As I was waiting for the bus, I felt a sense of concern. “Should I be leaving?” I thought. As the bus approached, I stood up tall, took a deep breath and hoped that this day would get better.

When I was a child, I thought the world of my parents. Up until recently, I still did but, after that, my opinion changed. Allow me to elaborate. Around one month before my birthday my aunt was due to have her first child. The toffee colored walls and dark oak floors of the home werewere like those of the evening hours of a desolate campground. The familiar faces and calligraphy on the walls presented me with a situation in which I felt no discomfort whatsoever. My mind was at peace in that home, regardless of the circumstances. The rough carpet between my toes provided me with a sense of belonging and purpose. The flow of memories overloaded my mind causing the room to spin based off the sheer amount of what had happened here. The intensity and magnitude of these initial moments were similar to when one consumes a spicy pepper or the initial flavor of a Lemonhead candy, painful at the beginning, but oddly pleasing as time goes on.

It was early in the morning. We had just finished packing up our tents and camping gear. My hands were dirty and messy from playing in the dirt in front of the picnic table. We had been camping with the girls in my church. I had an amazing time.

The echo of the ambulance resonated in my head while we were riding to the hospital. My mom was on the stretcher since she had the worse injury and my sister and I were sitting on the metal bench inside the ambulance. My sister was stifling her tears, sniffling and hiccupping from time to time to time with sharp breaths, and I was staring into space, letting the intenseness of the recent moment settle in while the EMT checked our vitals and asked us yes or no questions. We arrived at the hospital and they hastily brought us to a room with a hospital bed even smaller than a twin size with 4 chairs and my dad showed up minutes after, riding right behind the ambulance and came with us. My sister only had a little back pain, but no cuts, bruises, or anything irregular within her. There was a mirror inside and I when I stood in front of it, I saw on my face my dried up nosebleed, a large rounded cut under my eye from my broken glasses that were now lost in the grass of the accident, and tiny cuts everywhere that I now have scars from. I also had this sharp sore feeling when I pressed the area below my eye. It was bad, but not nearly as bad as what my mom had to experience. She had a fractured a rib and I knew she was in immense pain. Of course, my mom occupied the bed and while the doctor examined us, asking us questions in the most calm voice they could. I was attentive to what the doctor was saying and asking, but I was also dazed, getting lost in my