Essay about Personal Narrative- Happy to be Away from Home

Moving away from the place that one calls home is a hard situation, especially for a child at a young age. I lived in Brookhaven, Mississippi, and I was in the eighth grade. I had been in Brookhaven School District majority of my childhood. I had plenty of friends, and I was involved in school clubs. It was two weeks before the beginning of my freshman year when I got the news. My mom called me in her room and explained why I had to transfer schools. My sister has Juvenile Rheumatoid Arthritis, and she felt that it was best that we try a smaller school. I called up my friends to tell them the news, and we decided that these last few nights were going to be the best. We went out to bowl, had sleep overs, and had a special trip to the waterpark. I felt so happy to get that time with them, but moving day came and ruined all of the fun. That morning we packed up the house, said our goodbyes to our neighbors, and drove away. Though as I rode in the car towards a new beginning, I felt like I left behind the whole world behind me.

When she passed by him minutes later, he stepped out from behind the lockers, his fingers forcefully latching onto her wrists. She yelped as she was pulled into the restroom alongside him, a hand quickly pressed to her lips, muffling her cries.

I sat there less than 50 yards from the Borbous River in Leslie, Missouri on the amazing 150 acres of land. Sadly though I have been left, abandoned. My loving family gone, never to return. Once they ran and played outside next to me but now I am alone. The land is overgrown, left without care. The fence that once keep out animals and other things has fallen and left me exposed. The watery air that once caused me to radiate and glisten now leaves nothing but crude marks of oxidation on my aluminum roof. I remember the days that little feet would run through my halls, the sweet smell of breakfast being cooked, and the sharp smell of whiskey being poured. Now all of those things are gone. I no longer hear those feet or smell the breakfast or the whiskey. I witnessed the children grow and leave and the parents

Sitting at the dinner table, I shoved a bite of steak in my mouth. Forks and knives scraped at the table, breaking the silence in the air. I grabbed the cold cup that held my drink and glared at my dad. Sitting there, all quietly, as if he had done nothing wrong. He had gone from being the man who would race down stairs when dinner was ready so he could spend time with his family, to the man who was cooped up in his office.

After the movers hauled away Jacob’s belongings, I went through a few things in the attic and the garage. When there was a pile of junk in the middle of the floor, I wondered how I was going to gather all of the crap by the curve with the trash bins. I looked around the garage and spotted Jacob’s green wheelbarrow. That was how I was going to get this mess out of here. After filling the wheelbarrow up three times, I was finished in the garage.

Rob and Melanie talked all the way to the restaurant. Melanie confessed “I can’t help but be nervous, it’s not every day I’m allowed to share dinner with my grandfather. I believe he is a good person, I can just feel it. Did you feel it too? Or is it wishful thinking?”

I am surrounded, with no food or water and I am running out of ammo. My guards were killed a couple hours ago. I don't have much time, if anyone gets this tell my family I love them.

“It’s my turn to use the bathroom!” Evan screeched while pounding his fist on the door.

Walking on the street on a cloudy day I decided to go to a coffee shop. I was talking to a friend and noticed someone awfully familiar. When I tried to identify, him he walked out and I rubbed it off as not important. Then I noticed he left his wallet on his table. I dashed out the door to look for him, he was nowhere to be found. I started to wonder will I ever be able to give his wallet back?

After I had my daughter, I had moved back home, temporarily taken off of work, and focused on school and my new baby girl. My family was, at last, there to support me and help me become me again.

My eyes shutter as a sliver of bright light casts itself over my sleep deprived being, waking me up from my oasis. My shoulders rotate towards my back as my arms reach over my head stretching towards the sky, and make there way back to my sides again. I muster all of the energy my drained body can provide and slowy sit up, leaning on my forearms. My eyes pan across my sanctuary one last time before I get out of my inviting bed, and mentally prepare myself for the twelve hours to come.

I wake up slowly, like I am immersed in a weird combination of honey and crunchy peanut butter. I’m in no rush to open my eyes but I do anyway, I have to. Slipping into the same white clothes I wear everyday, I glance into a mirror and my eyes widen at the sight. My blond hair is a tumbleweed on my head and the only good thing about it is it takes attention away from my brownish green eyes that I despise. I rake a brush through my hair furiously, my pale nose scrunching up in pain every time I hit a knot. Giving up halfway through though, I realize that nobody cares. I lay the brush down on the dresser and stride out of my room. Lost in my thoughts, I bump into someone halfway to my destination. I’m about to exclaim my apologies when the victim

I am a Jack of all trades. I’m a gun slinging cowboy who drives a Ferrari and I can conjure up fire from thin air. I’m able to lead an army through the desert on a special ops mission. I’m a general, a commander, and a conqueror! And, all at just the young age of seventeen. I'll always remember the day when my childhood nightmares about fire breathing dragons became a reality. Clad in my self-designed medieval samurai armor with my trusty sword in hand I dragged myself onto the battleground and faced my opponent. I, the ultimate warrior, slayed that dragon with fierce determination and persistence. Many would label me a liar, a dreamer, or perhaps a little over imaginative. There is no doubt in my mind that what I think is true. I am all

The police just don’t care; I think that’s my new view on them right now. All they do is okay you to death so you stop asking them questions. Personally, I think that in itself should be a law, not properly helping people who need it. It kind of is their job to fight for justice and make the world a better place and what not. So, where are they when a woman who was attacked a few months ago and is pregnant has someone who is literally stalking her?

“Ugh,” I muttered under my breath as the receptionist told us that the wait was 30 minutes. My stomach was already growling since I had not eaten for several hours. Additionally, the mouth-watering aromas from the Italian food aggrandized my desire to devour the food ravenously. After being admitted into the dining hall of Olive Garden, I decided to order an exquisite meal, consisting of three courses.