Personal Narrative: How It To The Real World

I started drawing when I was 16. I was cursing 10th grade, or how is called in my country, Dominican Republic “Segundo de Bachillerato”. It was recess. I was alone in my classroom that day, besides two or three people who were just killing time there, and I didn’t had much to do with my time. I was at the last book of a series of books which names I can’t remember and If I recall correctly the last book was very boring for some reason so I didn’t wanted to read it anymore. So, looking for something to do, I stood from my seat and walked boringly down the aisle of chairs and that was, not my first interaction with art, but the first time I remember i liked art or paid attention to it. Yerkis, a guy of my class: short, chubby and well mannered

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.

I’m fairly new to the adult romance genre, and after reading a few that I adored I got a blogger friend of mine to give me some recommendations. On her list of recommendations for romances that are more rom-com was Melissa Foster’s The Real Thing. This was my first Melissa Foster book and I absolutely loved it! I’m so glad I decided to pick up this one as one of my first picks. he Real Thing takes place in a small town called Sugar Lake and features Zane and Willow who have a somewhat complicated history. I loved that they technically started out as friends and kept in touch all those years before getting together as it just made their chemistry and relationship all the more steamier and swoonier. And while the fake relationship trope was used

In late September of 2010, was the year I learned a new word “Depression”! I was in 1st grade and everything was fun because I had no responsibilities or worries. I didn’t know how to feel grief for a long time because I was always happy. I didn’t know that a family member could own a child.

Were you scared to come back from Rome and face you mom? I was worried she was going to be really upset with me and she was, but I think she realized that if I wouldn’t have done what I done Preston would have died. Also deep down she probably knows that she would have done the same thing if she were in my position, but most of all I think she was just happy I was alive and ok.

Time passed as I remained in that kitchen chair. Until the doorbell broke me out of my continuous, horrific train of thoughts, that is.

This I believe that there is a God, and he is watching over us, and helping us everyday with the problems of everyday life, whether it be an illness, break-up, school pressure, and even helping people make the right choices in life, because some people face greater consequences for things they done in the moment and didn't think of the consequences or what would happen if they did something they knew that was wrong but, didn’t think about the possible consequences of their choices.

Imagine going to the moon without oxygen, that’s how I felt when I moved to a new country during my teenage years, with little to no English, no idea of how the society functions, and clueless about how to speak the native tongue. When I moved to the United States from India, I faced many hardships along the way. One of my biggest roadblocks was making new friends. Being accepted into the classroom by my classmates was a great comparison to how the real world worked, and the real world was a hard place to be accepted in.

I look around the dark room, watching my allies. One sharpening one of his swords, another punching a bag of sand. And another boy in the window looking down over the city. I sit in the corner, just watching them. All I can think is, how did I become a fugitive of the entire country? I stand up and wander to the door.

I didn’t really know him very well but he was still my dad. I feel like I should feel bad for him or be crying but I’m not, not at all. He was killed at about midnight. The murder stole some important papers about my mom. I never knew her and my dad never talked about her, she died in a car accident when I was still very young. That was why I wanted those papers back. My dad never showed me any pictures but I knew that all kinds of things where on those papers. The police figured that my dad startled the thief and as a result my dad was now dead. Now I’m moved into my aunt’s house until they can find another place for me. I’m not alone though, my maid got to come with me. It is a relief to have something of my old life with me. I have a feeling

I guess this is the part where I tell you hat I've learned? I don't know if this paper is quite what your looking for but I gave it a go. Well through out this course I have learned to deal with stress a lot better, it hasn't been easy for me ,I never went to school pretty much everything I have learned is threw work, course related material and personal study so what do you expect. I have also learned that if you give something a go and don't give up things will only get better, it's easier to move forwards rather than backwards and if you take a step back and reflect on things and set a goal and a few plans,things will move a lot smoother and make it easier to take that next step forward.

I had scene him around at church, knew his face and his name but not him. I saw him playing guitar after school and thought he was cool, that's all I knew. Then I met him. He and my Friend had just broke up, I didnt even know they were dating. D and I had just walked down to the youth center for second service, she was talking to me about there break up and interdiced me. He hugged her and gave me his dorky high five -knuckles and I was over washed with emotions. Butterflies. Lust. Excitement. Confusion. Denial. And over all guilt. I couldn't like him!

Coming back from India has led me to remember when I first immigrated to the United States.

Sarah and I met in the second grade and immediately became best friends. At this point in my life, I genuinely needed her. Sure, I had friends, but I never truly fit in. At my Jewish private day school, I was the only Chinese student in my grade. My peers felt uncomfortable around me because they thought I was too "foreign." Many of them failed to understand that culturally, I was just like them. I converted to Judaism before I could speak and was raised by two Ashkenazi Jews since age one.

In the spring of 2017, my family had traveled to snow-capped peaks of Colorado. This trip was an annual ski trip that we had been looking forward to for the past few months. I was at the beginning of the trail with my snowboard and have been focusing on my technique. In a split second, I was tumbling down the trail, dislocating and breaking my elbow in the process.