Personal Narrative: Fierce Conversations

I have recently found my voice. It seems ironic to claim that I have known about my voice prior to discovering it, so let me be clear and say that I do not mean I have found a voice or the voice, but rather I found my voice, the voice of authenticity, one that expresses my individuality in a way that is uniquely my own. I have always known about this voice, but dominant narratives stemming from the metaphorical closet dictated what my voice should resemble, which both silenced and misconstrued it. Indeed, finding my voice has been a fundamentally transformative experience, one that allowed me to break free from the metaphorical closet and pursue an authentic life as an openly gay man, and more importantly, myself.

This past year, I have been apart of Naperville Central’s brand new Special Spaces club. When my friend approached me and asked me to join, I agreed even though I had no clue what I was involving myself in. In retrospective, I can honestly say that becoming a part of Special Spaces has been one of the most meaningful, fun, and fulfilling experiences I have had in high school.

Over my years of school, one big influence on me has always been sports. Ever since a young age, I have always enjoyed playing and watching sports. In my four years in high school, I have fell in love with the sport of lacrosse.

I woke up and took one bite out of my pop tart but that one bite was all I could eat. My legs were shaking, and my heart was pounding. My dad told me, “It is a true honor to even make it this far so go out there and have some fun.” Once I heard this statement, I knew I was ready to go. I arrived at school and boarded the bus. The car ride was an hour and fifteen minutes of hearing the squeaking of the wheel on the bus. My teammates were getting their heads ready for the big game.

Her father’s words echoed through her head as one might hear a reverberation throughout the Taj Mahal. Continuous. Chilling. Having no control to distill the wavelengths until they mellowed out on their own accord. She tried to anatomize the depth of his phrase, more than dutifully needed but Davina needed to know why. Why did she need to keep an open mind and more importantly, who the hell was about to come bursting through that door. But then again, did it really matter in the first place. When she thought about it, the brunette could have laughed at the idea. That an unattributed, faceless figure had her panties in a bunch. Surely Dominic wouldn’t think to waste her time with venial diversions,

Just so you know, this is the Big Apple and I rule this town. New York City is filled with tall buildings, great culture, and historical sites. No other city has so much beauty that it takes your breath away; yet, there is a real danger that lurks on the streets. I should know because I am Detective Michael Morgan a United States Super Spy in charge of capturing dastardly villains who are set on destroying our world. Armed with mind-altering powers, Alex Higgins is on the top of the FBI’s list of the ten most wanted men in America. This thug is one of the greatest danger to our world and must be captured and jailed in the vault of death. There is no place safe for him to hide from the law and rumor has it, he is in my town. You break the law here in New York City, you pay the ultimate price: freedom.

I have been in the Marine Corps for roughly three and a half years and throughout that time I have done many things. Most of the things that I have done were with Combat Logistics Battalion 26. For three years, I worked with that unit through work ups and a deployment and I have seen and done many unique things. However, nothing I did with CLB 26 felt fulfilling, but that all changed when I changed units to CLB 8.

When my mother asked me to read a book a few months ago, I was hesitant to agree. A stressful school year was approaching, and seeing my friends on a Saturday night seemed much more appealing. When I was younger, curling up with a good book was a typical pastime. Then came high school, and reading was replaced with countless hours of studying, cheer practice, and trying to figure out when I could catch up on some much needed rest.

It is a somewhat unspoken agreement that people all have, and breaking this agreement is frowned upon. The bathroom is a very unsocial place. You go do your business and then leave, it is very simple. The social norm that I broke was talking to someone in the stall next to me, and continuing to have a conversation even when it was clear they did not want to have one.

I chose to break the norm of either smiling at strangers or giving them a neutral look when you make eye contact. I decided to give every stranger I passed a confused look like they had just spoken to me in another language. I must admit, this made me feel a bit goofy. I was on the fence as to whether or not to do this in the first place but I decided I just had to. The responses I received were quite comical. A few people asked if I was alright, and one person even asked if I had a problem with them.

Throughout the conversation, Susan did not inform me that the home was still in First Look and not open to investors at this time. Susan did not highlight any features of the home, nor did she talk about the neighborhood or the surrounding area. When asked, Susan paused to reference the property file and stated, "In looking at the pictures it appears that it needs interior paint, carpet, appliances, and a few windows, which the previous seller must have taken." She stated, "I don't know why they have to remove things from the homes." I asked, "Do you have offers?" She paused to check the property file and answered, "No offers." I asked, "Is the property behind the home farmland?" She paused to reference the property file and replied, "It appears

A speak is moving on the paper. Tracing every letter with a little spark that flickers. I stick my fingers out to touch it and the instant contact burns me and I drop the paper with a gasp. Light comes up from the ground the second the paper hits the floor, shining so bright it could very possibly light a whole city. I cover my eyes at the brightness of it. The light gets bigger and closer and within less than three seconds, the light surrounds us. I want to scream bloody murder out of pure confusion and fear. Then, I feel as if I'm being sucked forward until my whole body, without my permission, is slowly being lifted off my window seat. I try to grab for Amanda, but everything is gone the second I blink.

Six consecutive second place, Science Fair trophies sit in the deepest, darkest, most isolated place in my house... my closet. Upon entering the closet, I’m automatically overwhelmed with a horrifying stench, a mixture of plastic, metal, and disappointment, also known as second place. Once the scent enters the nasal cavity, it immediately calls war upon the cerebellum, attacking strongly and injuring the motor cortex, thus creating a chill to run through my body, leaving me powerless and without words. After the chill, next follows the noise. Mockingly congratulates me, whispering “great job, you almost had it,” oh the humanity; “second place” repeatedly echoes in my ear until I escape the closet.

“Alright fellas, has anyone else got something to say to Shane Ferguson before he heads off to Mars.” Mr. Wright questions everyone as Shane will be gone from earth forever.

Life really doesn't like to tell you what's ahead; sometimes it's nice and gives you a little hint, sometimes life replays itself so at least there's some familiarity in it, but most of the time my life seems out of my control. As a fifteen year old many people would hear me say this and scoff saying I don't have 'real' problems, or I don't know what the 'real' world is like. On one hand they're right, I shouldn't know what the 'real' world is like, most fifteen year olds are thinking about what picture they Instagram is a 'real' world problem. But being the not-so-average teenager, I do know what this so called 'real' world is.