Personal Narrative-It Isn T Big To Make Others Feel Small

Decent Essays
It Isn’t Big to Make Others Feel Small “Erica, hurry up over there!” Hanley shouts across the smoothie shop as I pay for my drink.
Every Friday, my friends and I go to Robin’s Smoothies across the street from Eva’s house. Today is extra busy because of the 4th of July town parade down the street. It’s a hot, sunny day and the ice cold smoothie feels refreshing as ever.
“See you next week, girls!” The owner says as we exit the shop. We start heading down the street and I can already hear the noises of the loud parade. “Erica, how did you drink your smoothie that fast…?” Sophia yells over the parade. I look down, embarrassed to see that I have finished my whole smoothie. “Fatty,” Eva mumbled under her breath. I ignored it. A big red,
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Thank God I’m in the back, I thought. I have a terrible fear of being in front of people, and what makes it worse is that I’m an absolute klutz.
All of the sudden my friends start pointing at me while screaming at the top of their lungs, “OVER HERE! RIGHT HERE!”
“Guys, please stop,” I mumble. “You… you’re perfect for the job!” The acrobat shouts my way. Oh my gosh, this can’t be happening. I thought. I push my way through the small crowd to the front of the parade, where everything had stopped. My hands are clammy and I can feel my face turn red as a tomato. “You, my friend, are going to lay right here,” the acrobat said, pointing to the dirty gravel road. I shakily start to lay down on the road as hundreds of town citizen’s watch me. Not only am I thinking of the crowd looking at me the entire time, I’m also in fear of the acrobat making a mistake and falling on me. “Here goes nothing,” the acrobat says as he quickly goes into a handstand position. He starts walking on his hands, over to where I’m lying. He does tricks over me while I lay there, eyes closed, ready to cry. “And that’s all for today!” The acrobat beams. I quickly get up without even wiping off all the dirt on my new clothes. I scurry over to my friends, who are smiling at me and waiting for me to say
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See you tomorrow!” Hanley snickers, slamming the door in my face.
How am I going to write a ten page essay on the Civil War in one night? I think as I sit down at my desk. As I’m researching the Civil War, something terrible crosses my mind. Why am I still alive?
I delete the 127 words I had written on the Civil War and instead write a note, looking like this:

Dear Hanley, Larissa, and Eva,
Remember that one time in grade six, when we rode our bikes all the way to the other side of town? That’s a day I’ll never forget. Now, in grade ten, nothing is the same. You guys were my only friends, and now I don’t even have you by my side. I have no one anymore. So I guess what I’m trying to say is, if I have no one to talk to, what is the point of living? Goodbye, everyone. Love, Erica
After I write the note, I get my phone out. I send a text to Hanley.
“Come to my house tomorrow morning so I can give you your paper. I hope you like it,” it reads. Within an hour, she responds.
It says, “I better.”
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I walk to the garage, where I knew my mom had a long piece of rope. I stand there, staring at it for a few seconds. Do I really want to do this? I think. I don’t even have to answer that. I hold the yellow, woven rope in my sweaty
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