Personal Narrative: Guess Who

The sparks fly in the air, there are marshmallows in your hair, and you’re with your favorite people in the world. This is called the best place on earth, for me at least. I enjoy camping so very much, you meet new people, experience different things, make new memories, and have a blast. You also see new sights, smell some things, and always wake up to the birds singing and not the bustling streets of the city. Camping is my go to activity.

She carries symbolic bracelets and tangled up headphones and torn playbills. She carries crumpled sheet music, a highlighted play script, a rusty gun and holster, an old calculator, worn out journals for writing fragmented lyrics, passionate feelings, unforgotten memories, and so much more. Twice or three times a week she carries packets of law and a lunch that was packed that morning. She carries a water bottle that is always half empty, or much like herself, half full, depending on how you see it. Wyatt carries the priceless shark tooth necklace she gave him, locked away somewhere unknown. Hannah carries the cheap but meaningful books that she gave her, unread but still valued. Her mother carries the candy she gave her, hard but sweet, a reflection of her soul. Something they all carried in common, was that they all carried something that was given; taking turns, they carried pieces of her shattered heart.

One of two. That's how I feel everyday of my life. I'm a twin and that means I will never be complete without my other half. When I was younger, I learned that having a twin does not keep me from things. It's getting to have a person in my life that I don't need to hide from, other than in hide and seek. When I was little, my brother probably hated me as much as I hated him. But we were together all the time. We went to school together, we were in the same class almost all the time. Sometimes, we had the same friends even. We shared birthday parties, cakes, presents, money. Basically the same things we still share now. But between us, we shared secrets. Little things that we thought were so cool. When my grandma gave us money, we split it and made sure not to tell our parents. I went and bought

Unfortunately I won't be in class today I'm stuck in the hospital once again with an upper respiratory infection and the flu my throat closed up Saturday night so there keeping me the until Thursday to make sure I'm okay. But just to make sure today in class where going over Russia and China right? And I'm not sure because I don't have my paper was there something about extra credit?

By the time I knew what I was getting myself into, it was already too late.

My life began in Manhattan, New York in January of the year 1977. I was born to a 21 year old Irish American mother, Catherine Cunningham, and a 60 year old Sicilian American father, Anthony Perniciaro. My parents came from very different backgrounds. My mother’s family was relatively wealthy and affluent. My father was born and raised in Brooklyn. His parents were extremely poor immigrants that were seriously affected by the Great Depression. My father was a bricklayer and an artist when he met my mother, who was just starting her life, being only a few years out of high school.

Everyone remembers a time in their lives when their mom came through and saved the day. Mine happened to happen at 1:30 AM on a Saturday morning. To fully understand the story I’ll give some background.

Hiro didn't attend school that day, emotionally and physically drained by the past few hours. The pattern repeated the in the two following days until the week had come to a close. One day of wallowing in grief was turning into a weekend affair. This was the kind of anniversary no one wanted to remember, but the squeezing pain of loss made itself known regardless.

“Move the light so it’s on my good side,” Mary snapped her gum, and glared at the technician, “You just can’t get good help these days, you know?”

I hugged Bruno, our bouncy boxer, goodbye as he headbutted me and doused my face with his sloppy, sandpaper tongue. Then I hugged Bruno’s sidekick, Edi, our just-as-bouncy Jack Russell Terrier. They didn’t know this would be the last moment we would be together for a long time.

I attempted to draw air into my lungs but my throat was too tightly shut by the force of the sash wrapped around my neck. Neither would sound come out, nor air stream in. From afar, I could hear laughter and conversations going on in the near rooms. Louder in my head were muffled noises coming from my nasal passage in its final attempt to breathe in its last breath. Life and death, in this very moment, were all under one roof. My hands, still in my pockets, involuntarily clenched into a fist. My toes cleaved to one another as if to say to each other “We are in this together.” They curved in towards my heel and would have fain clenched into their own fists’. This pendulum of a girl and noose no longer oscillated. Time had stopped. The initial

Racing at night going One-hundred and forty miles an hour on US-27 holding the lead, Shift six gear, speed topped out at two-hundred miles per hour passing by cars smoothly. I chanted I am immortal, I am a god! while I pushed my sports bike to its limit. Suddenly a black car approaches. WHAM! I get Rammed from behind and lose control of my bike slamming into a Semi-truck up ahead. Lights out. When I peeked my eyes, I saw 4 humans around me. Thump after thumb I believe I was in an ambulance rushing down the turnpike. I looked around and the first words that came to my head are “Rick this is just a dream”. This is the story of how I escaped from an illegal laboratory that clones and modifies humans.

I open my eyes. My head is buzzing, my eyelids feel as if they weigh a thousand pounds; every inch of my limp body aches with an unbearable pain. My surroundings are hectic; acrid fumes are filling the air and blue and red neon lights pierce my eyes. Unfamiliar faces gather around my body talking a million miles an hour, but I can hardly decipher what they’re saying. Someone kneels beside me and faintly whispers, “sometimes you have to go through Hell to get to heaven.” I shut my weary eyes, unaware that they would never open again.

It was a warm day in October… Thursday, October 8, 2015 to be exact. I woke up at precisely 6:45 am, just like every other school day. I went through my usual morning routine of eating breakfast and getting ready for the upcoming day. But today was different. It was football game-day.

“Life isn’t all cupcakes and sprinkles’….this sentence stuck with me until now, it made me remember why I don’t see the world as I used to. My mother had told me this simple sentence when I was a 10-year old, the day my delusional 10-year old eyes were pried open to the awful truth. This day showed me that I was a really good baker, but also, it taught me a lesson. Life wasn’t fair, no matter what you do. That day I was awoken with extremely strong emotions. Happiness ran through my veins.