Personal Narrative: Manipulating Others

In the beginning of third grade was so exciting because I will get to see my friends. But when I got home my parents told me and my brother that we are moving. I was really excited at first because it was my first time moving.

It was record breaking temperatures on this July 4th day. Red, white, and blue filling up the stands. Fans and umbrellas protecting spectators from the heat of the sun. It was about game time and I was getting ready to take the field for the last home game. Butterflies in my stomach, but I had to tell myself “it’s just another game”. Even though in my heart I knew it was not just another game.

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.

She tried to give him the benefit of the doubt, squinting in the direction the crawlers were apparently approaching from, but couldn’t find any sign of movement of all. Not so much as a blade of grass in the wind. Jack shoved her shirt into the back pocket of her jeans anyway, occupying her hands with the battered wood of her bat instead. It would break any day now. “Nah, I’m serious. Ya gotta lay off them damn crazy pills, Dom."

Distortion. If I could put that moment into one word that would be it. Everything in my mind was racing, as if my thoughts were on a high speed merry go round that was no longer full of merriment, but filled with a feeling of disaster. I was drowning in a vast sea of uncertainty, and the light shining from above was slowly vanishing from sight. I no longer had hope.

There have been quite a few times where I lied because I thought I would get into trouble. There is one I can vividly remember. It wasn't major but it changed my view on lying. It was when I was in the sixth grade. It was my first year in middle school and everything was new. Math was a lot more challenging. I had a different teacher than I had before in previous years. Math has always been challening. I walked into class on the first day and I was nervouse. I got the general idea of the topics the teacher was teaching. I do the homework just fine. The teacher announce we have our very first test. I studied all weekend. I thought I knew the material and I walked in, waiting to take the test. I thought it was easy and I thought I would do well.

At the tender age of five, my family decided to put me into gymnastics, one of the most challenging sports, both physically and mentally. Gymnastics revolves around obtaining perfection—an unreachable goal for anyone, especially a five-year-old. Albert Einstein defines insanity as doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results. Performing the same routine in front of a panel of people who will judge even my smallest flaws fits this definition to a tee. Welcome to the world of competitive gymnastics. What compelled my parents to put me in this sport, I will never know, but I have never regretted their decision.

I gazed outside my bedroom window and watched as the raindrops slowly streamed down the windowsill and tenderly dropped off the ledge. It was mid-January and winter had finally started to kick in and take a toll here in New York.

Over the last six weeks, I have enjoyed making progress on all of the goals that I have set myself. Most significantly, I have corrected the shape of my fourth finger through changes in my left-hand position and noticed dramatic difference in the ease and quality of playing. I found the changes I had to make difficult, and I committed considerable time to implementing slow and mindful practice. The most effective strategy in approaching this goal was practicing various finger patterns slowly and repetitively, noticing the look and feel of the correct technique. Over time I became more accustomed to the technique, and learnt to reproduce it in lesser time and with more consistency. I can confidently say that my technique is now improved after setting and striving for this goal.

I must have been eight or nine when I started planning with a friend to put on a play. Katie was probably fourteen or fifteen and all we really wanted was to do something with our friends, neither of us having much experience with acting. Looking back now, many years later and a lot more knowledge and experience on the subject, I’d say we were gung hoe and mess up on out priorities. First we started writing a script. Understandably she didn’t want me to write it and she never got much of a chance to work on it except when we were together sometimes. Well we didn’t get very far and our families finally convinced us to start with a play already written. What did we pick? Well, I think we jumped around a little before settling on ‘The Taming

Thump! I jolted straight up shocked at what had just happened I thought it was just a dream. Realizing this was actually happening to me. There right in front of me was my new neighborhood it was all happening so fast. My older sister, my younger sister, my mom, and I were all in the car on the way to the new house. There it was right in front of us seeable to the naked eye, the new house.

Have you ever had a thought in your mind where it comes out of nowhere and hits you like a freight train? An idea so amazing that you’d stop at nothing to make it happen. A couple weeks ago we started a group project in English class called “Social Monsters”. Each group had to choose a “monster” that plagued the world today from a disturbing alphabet video. My group, me, Harvey and Ben, choose world hunger as our monster.

I became a liar the first time i lied for no reason and with out help.

"Mason, let's go before they catch us !" Liam shouted . Mason replied in a shouted distinct voice " Stop yelling they are gonna hear us. Liam I'm telling you we will be safe here stop taking a chance let's just wait it out man ." "I'll catch you boys don't worry !" While hiding in a student lockers, they were communicating through the inside wall. One had a math test for this week and one had the English test for next week. Liam and Mason were trouble makers and always down to do dirty stuff which no one were expecting.

I learned that it’s hard to determine what really constitutes as a true act of kindness. The act of kindnesses I performed always had some ulterior motives behind them, whether it be expecting something in return in the future or just satisfying myself because I did something good. But I feel that even though people who do kind deeds might have ulterior motives, the action is always appreciated no matter what and the sense of happiness from doing the deed is just an added extra.