Personal Narrative-Make-Up

Years passed before William B Carpenter composed a theory that “If the will repeatedly permitted a bad behavior, it might become habit-forming, and might ultimately lie beyond the will’s power to check it” (Zieger 1). Theories on addiction have been contrived since the early nineteenth century, and the thought of someone repeatedly utilizing a harmful substance may seem baffling to many. However, it is a complication with which many struggle. It is also common for opioid addicts to turn to the drug in times of fear or anxiety, in order to relieve the distress. Because opioids can entrust users with feelings of relaxation, euphoria, and extreme well-being (Narcotic 1), the effects of the drug are one of the reasons addicts such as Dorian Gray turn to this substance; "that is one of the great secrets of life -- to cure the soul by means of the senses, and the senses by means of the soul” (Wilde 15). The struggles of Dorian Gray’s and addicts’ lives bequeath them to the level of depravity solely in order to calm themselves. While difficult to believe today, in Victorian Britain it was possible to walk into a chemist’s shop to purchase drugs and substances that are currently considered

I wasn’t born into a wealthy family where things were handed to me on a silver platter. I had to learn at a young age that I was going to have to do a lot of things in life myself if I wanted to become successful. I feel like after my mom passed away I lost track of that and started doing reckless things, such as smoking marijuana, smoking cigars, and selling drugs. I even quit playing football because my habits were interfering with my mind and I couldn’t do anything. It also made it to where my family was even beginning to turn their backs on me because I wouldn’t listen to anything they were telling me. It was basically sending me in a downwards spiral. Instead of making my life better I was hurting myself and my family. My so-called

I’ve grown up in a generation where drugs are idolized. The feeling of being high, not having any responsibility, and just

“Casey, your group needs to do the stunt one more time!” coach said imprudently. It happened March 26, 2015; it was at the end of a two hour practice. During the summer months in South Georgia, it is utterly hot and humid, especially in our cheer gym (a warehouse with no air conditioner); it only has two heavy-duty fans and a roll-up door. With this in mind, my group became slightly irritated. Everyone was exhausted; nevertheless we still had to do the stunt anyway.

For the first ten years of my life, I had a very normal childhood. I went to a private catholic school in a small town called Westwego. We were about twenty five minutes south of New Orleans. During the summers, friends and family would come over to our house and we would all swim and boil seafood. The summer of 2005 was no different; I was looking forward to entering 5th grade. Fast forward to one week before school is about to start when Hurricane Katrina formed in the Atlantic Ocean. Hurricanes were no strangers to us as we have been through several throughout the years. However, a few days later the storm is upgraded to a Category 3 and is predicted to hit New Orleans dead on. My parents felt it was time for us to leave and we traveled

At 11 o’clock in the morning, we boarded our first plane. It was my first time even flying, so it’d better be worth the $816. I just remember my head was in so much pain because I had cried so much that morning. I felt so lightheaded, I had built

This post was probably my worst semester of college and I have no excuse for how things turned out with my classes. I'm not going to blame my job or my home life as it was me who failed and I have no one else to point the finger at. I had tried to pass the remedial math course five times previously and I started to lose hope that this one course would hold me back from finishing school. This hopelessness carried into my other courses because at the time I truly believed it was pointless to try in other courses if I can't pass this class that's been haunting since I started attending college.

I wish I could tell you all of this in person but I know if I try I’ll probably get very nervous and forget some small details that I would really like to tell you, and those are probably the most important to me. I saw you for the first time on February 23 at the valentines party, and that was such a fortunate thing to go to because I was able to get free food, have a good time, see old friends I haven’t seen since last semester, but most importantly I was able to see you. I didn’t know who you were at the time, but I knew you were like a very sweet, funny, caring, smart, and very beautiful just from your appearance. I first noticed you when you sat across from me when we were playing charades, and that’s when I knew that I wanted to get to

It was 2:00 AM and I was working 3rd shift that night, it was lonely and dark. I was the only one here. As I sat in silence the phone rang I picked it up not expecting anyone to be calling because I haven’t had a call in years. When I picked up the phone all I hear is a deep soft whispering, I couldn’t make out what they were saying. Every second the whispering got louder and louder until there was a high pitch screaming. I slammed the phone down on the receiver with a rush of adrenaline. My heart was pounding so fast it felt like it was going to burst, (the reader takes a deep breath to build suspense) agin I sit in silence, waiting for something to happen. I was so paranoid I didn’t know what to do, my mind was racing, do I leave or do I

The morning sun is peering through the small window in the corner of my room, hitting me right in the face; of all places in my room it hits on my pillow, my head, and my eyes. It’s another summer day like the rest nothing to do and at the age where I haven’t got my license yet. I get up from bed with the same chip on my shoulder that I went to bed with last night because my mom wouldn’t rent me a movie from the TV. To most people it seems dumb to get mad at but I was young and went to a school where every kid had money and everything they wanted, plus it didn’t help that I didn’t have a video game console. I was bored and I just wanted to see this new movie that I didn’t get to see in theaters cause my mother said we needed to be, “smart with

Personal protective equipment was worn, and safety procedures briefed prior to beginning the experiment. After obtaining, and cleaning a 2-quart plastic container, we transferred heaping scoop of clean, dry bentonite clay for making the sample. We weighed out XX-grams of bentonite using a digital scale (+/- 0.01gm) and a thin plastic weigh trays on a tare-zeroed scale. The of bentonite was added to XX-mL of warm water using the laboratory mixer seen in Fig. 1 to make standard (15-cP) mud. The speed of the mixer was set to create a cone vortex in the middle of the mixing cup, and bentonite added to the mixing cup within 1-minute. We continued to mix the mud for seven additional minutes increasing speed as required to keep the particles in suspension. The sample was then poured into a clean plastic quart size container, sealed and labelled properly. The remaining sample was then stored at room temperature (68 ℉) for 1-week to allow sample to fully hydrate.'

my studies. It was there that I would max out my library card to read

I told myself that I had my life under control. I was able to succeed in high school and figured nothing could stop me. The next step was college; I could not wait for the partying to begin. I was introduced to oxycodone, a prescription painkiller. After three months, I found my self in a $350, 13 pill a day, habit. I began selling drugs to meet my quota. I hit my first low at a local mall. I was arrested and cuffed after being pulled over. The cops found a few thousand dollars, pills, and a list of

I'd recently finished a 400,000-word recovery curriculum and after 12 weeks of meetings with the director, staff, clients, and the judge of a drug court, the director told me:

In that moment I realized the world isn’t all friendship and giggles. I never expected to see or hear someone so cruel before in my life, I thought it only ever happened in the telenovelas my mom and watched after she picked me up from elementary school. I could see Skylar, the new student in my kindergarten class, talking with an upperclassman behind the tall metal slide. I barely heard the introductions, but I could clearly hear when the upperclassman laughed. He laughed at the name that the boy was given. I didn’t expect what came out of my mouth, and they certainly didn’t either.