Personal Narrative: Levy

Most of us in the family have different ways of talking to others. Kwabe, the youngest out of 8, is annoying but sometimes gets his points across. The second youngest is serena, around people she doesn’t really know or wants to be mean to, she puts on a baby voice, around people she doesn’t like she talks with a deep voice. At home she is just irritating, and she is always sassy. Oyema and I are pretty much the same, we don’t want to talk at all, well at school. It’s like right after we scramble outside of school we just talk and talk and talk. Sharese and Tiera, two of our older sisters, they are raggedy smart alecks, especially sharese. Tiera is just plane weird, but both of them curse so much it’s amazing how many curse

*disclaimer: bare with me... the next 5 chapters are crap because i wrote them over a year ago...chapter 19 will be the start of some great shit*

I believe that women are just as competent as men and should be treated equally.

As a child, I always wanted to be a doctor and as I got older that changed. I then wanted to major

In 2025, I will be twenty-nine years old and hopefully married. I will be married to my significant other of ten years Earnest Palmer III, who is a dentist. I would have been recently graduating with a bachelor’s in Culinary Arts and trying to plan to open my own restaurant, BubbaD’s Eateries. Knowing my big headed husband of mine, I probably had a baby then and trying to have another baby. Hopefully, by then Earnest will get rid of the idea naming our son, King. We will be living in the suburbs near New York City but working in the city. Being a woman with great memory, I probably wrote a memoir about my crazy life and trying to sell it to a publisher. If none of the publishers wants to publish my memoir, I will probably sell it the Lifetime

I cannot tell you how many times an adult has looked down on me because I am a child and they think they are wiser. Yet, many instances I am more knowledgeable on the subject than they are. In 1 Timothy 4:12, God commands His people, “Don’t let anyone think less of you because you are young. Be an example to all believers in what you say, in the way you live, in your love, your faith, and your purity.” A couple of Sunday’s ago, I attended Charge. Charge is a local outreach from Southeastern University in Lakeland, FL that brings the gospel to LKLD. I had an absolutely amazing experience. Most of those kids do not come from a wealthy or even stable home. Being able to interact and just love on those kids was truly a God moment. Some are not

What’s your story? When someone asks who you are, as a person, what do you think of? Most people will label themselves by their profession, or sometimes even by a flaw they find particularly annoying. They restrict their entire being into these tiny constraints, summing up their existence in a sentence or two. Everyone has their own story that they create for themselves, about who they are and what they do, but these stories limit us. They tell us that we are only allowed to be a certain way, to think and act a certain way. If we could just break free of these constraints, we could see that we don’t always have to live by the same plot. By reframing their story, one can grow to accomplish their goals, surpass their limitations, and even think

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.

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

We human beings are all works of art. Every experience that we have is a new stroke of paint to our canvas. The things that influence us do the same. I am not a completed work of art, but I can show my progress of what makes me. I am influenced by the media, my teachers, and the neighborhoods I lived in. Now here is the showing of my work.

‘’I was on my way to back to school night I was extremely nervous to meet my teacher and when I got there I heard Andrew then I turned around and…’’ One time when I was in second grade I was on my way to back to school night I went to meet my teacher her name was Ms. Pepler. She was nice at helping me put my stuff in my desk but I thought she would be meaner in the school year so when me and my mom got back in the car I said ‘’I think Ms. pepler is going to be mean this year.’’ My mom said ‘’ she seemed really nice at back to school night’’ then I said maybe you're right.’’ Now it is the first day of school and I was nervous because I thought I had a mean teacher and I didn't have any friends it was just me and my cousin. The first day of

It was one of those oddities; though identical twins, they had celebrated different birthdays: first, Molly, born on April 1, 1972, at 11:47 PM, and second came Megan on April 2 at 12:17 AM. Their parents, Meryl and Bill, thought it best that the twins celebrate on their own days and had always held separate parties for them. Bill adored “his girls,” and Megan was probably his favorite. A parent shouldn’t have a favorite child, yet, they all, more than likely do. It’s either the one that they’ve carried some sort of guilt about, for one reason or another, or the one that highly reminds them of themselves. In Bill’s case, it was definitely Megan, he enjoyed her spunk (a quality he thought missing from the other two children). It was his attraction to her high-spiritedness that had Meryl, on countless occasions telling him; “You are letting her get away with

Sunshine. Endless amounts of fun. Water. It was about that time again, summer! My favorite season, no school and my birthday was in it. This summer was especially great, my dad was coming home he was in the military and I hadn't seen him in eight months. It was about a regular summer day with my family, when my parents thought of heading down to the beach. I was thrilled this beach was one of my favorite places to go in the summer. It was not only just a beach but, it also had a large park with big blue swings, a tennis court, and large grass area for people to have picnics. And were the beach and the park split of there were tall ginormous rocks so people could watch the boats and ocean. I was so excited and on top of that my mom told me that

It was a normal chilly sunday on September 13th, 2015. My dad was in the garage with some of his friends watching the football game. It was the Dallas Cowboys vs. the New York Giants. My dad and his friends were making hot dogs and burgers on the grill but I don’t like those so I asked my dad if I could go to the store and get the ingredients to make taco dip. He handed me $20 and I headed off to the store with one of my dad’s friend’s son. The store was at the end of my street so it wasn’t a far walk.

I wake up at 5:30, five days a week, and each time I try to cram in five extra minutes, I end up having a late start to my day.