Personal Narrative-Mark Depsey

There are millions of people in the military and I have always been fascinated by the concept of it. The interesting part was never the war, they were intriguing, but there is too much death involved. I am fascinated by the concept of being a part of something bigger than you in addition to being one big family fighting for the same thing. I believe it all started with the two thousand one movie Pearl Harbor, no matter what they were facing in their personal life they all worked together. I never really knew anyone involved in the military, but that all changed when my oldest brother joined The United States Air Force.

I still recall the balmy November afternoon, when the sun revealed flights of kestrels in the deep blue sky and made the lens of my camera flare. I knew that day would be wonderful, albeit it was rare for a day spent in the swamplands to be anything but. The photographic opportunities seemed endless and the small white-breasted body of the sandpiper was right within my grasp, or the viewfinder of my camera, at the very least. It was also the day I met a very interesting character by the name of Jim Saddler, composed yet excitable. Wise beyond his years. The moment he arrived on my doorstep, I knew we were two kindred spirits, united in our keen eye for birds. I must admit, I was unsure of what the nature of our relationship would be. The possibility

In November my sister Brandie came down to my house. Brianna and I got our items. Then I had walked outside with the items and taken all of it to the car. I went back in then we had to say our good-byes to our endeared idolised mother.

“I’ll be right back, guys! I just need a breath of fresh air,” announced eighteen-year-old Alan Fenton as he walked out of the raucous party into the quiet backyard, taking out his inhaler as he went. His graduation party was just getting started, with around a hundred of Edison High School’s students already attending and even more arriving every minute. As valedictorian of all his classes, the captain of both the basketball and football teams, and the recent receiver of a scholarship to UCLA, Alan knew he had a reason to celebrate. It was great timing too, as his parents were at a Justin Bieber concert with his 16-year-old sister Sandy. The cheers from his house grew louder as his best friend and part-time DJ, Chris Waker, turned up the strains of Fetty Wap’s “Trap Queen”. Alan grinned as he turned around and went back inside the house.

A middle-aged man called Bill Foster is dealing with both unemployment and a divorce. When his car breaks down on a Los Angeles highway, he leaves his vehicle and begins a journey across the city to attend his daughter's birthday party. As he makes his way through the urban suburbs, Bill's frustration with the way society works starts resulting in violent encounters with various people, including a vengeful gang and a dutiful veteran cop, Detective Pendergast.

Brendon is in the motel room after a show. They're in northern Oregon, and there's

pillow. It’s soaking wet from my tears. I roll of the bed stretching my skinny arms and legs. I’m

“It was my fault, okay?” His statement caused her to halt. She attempted to look at him again but her eyes focused on the clouds above his head. He stuffed his hands in his pockets before sauntering away. His hand fiddled with the wallet. She dragged herself to her dorm; her hatred for herself grew. She crossed her arms over her chest, thinking about how incredibly stupid she was. She replayed the encounter in her mind, rewriting the entire event to fit an embarrassment free one. As she blamed herself, her thief found himself at his quiet area on campus. While sitting on a bench, he examined the wallet. A tattered, russet leather wallet with ‘Marcy’ embroidered on it with blue bubble letters. He ran his index finger along each letter, tracing

“When I was a little kid I had a good friend who lived down the road from me. Her name was Aria Robin Hunter. I always thought it was cool she had two first names but she thought it was bothersome since she had to explain it to everyone. Aria Robin was always a very creative girl, even for a kid, she seemed to have all these never ending ideas. She was perfectly fine with being left to her thoughts even when it was because all the other kids thought she was weird. She never minded them when they saw her creations as strange alien things. All she said to the boy who told her an animal she drew was strange looking was that he simply hadn’t seen one before. She didn’t seem odd to me when we were little but I began to see her differently as we

It’s 9 a.m and I’m patting my face so hard with a sponge covered in foundation that I might just bruise. My cousin and I were getting ready to go shopping. I pulled on my favorite outfit which consisted of jeans, a t-shirt, and sneakers. I knew my mom would rather see me in dresses so I head over to the kitchen to taunt her with my plain outfit. I walk in ready to “WOW” her but instead I’m greeted with the pale and worried face of someone who’s seen a ghost. I knew that after everything this would show me that change is something that happens in life. We just have to learn to adapt to it.

It’s strange to think that the 2009 drama about Julia child, called “Julia and Julia”, was what evoked my passion for food. Not food exactly, but the plethora of healing properties it may contain. I’m not referring to your basic scrambled eggs or buttered toast, instead, I became fascinated in aromatic Thai curries and the restorative properties of cinnamon. I bought my first cookbook in 8th grade, and prepared myself for the destructive summer ahead. Fried pans and burnt noodles stayed fragrant in the air for weeks upon their demise. Apple rinds and decayed broccoli florets filled our trash bag to the brim, trapping its stench only slightly. As any 12-year old, I eventually gave in to the hard-earned truth that it was highly unlikely

Everyday life is so mundane. It's the same thing every minute of everyday. Eat, sleep, fuck, get high, cry, scream a little, eat, sleep , fuck, get high... It's so exhausting just to try and live. Each and every painfully slow moment on an endless cycle of repeat that I found harder and harder to repeat. Thankfully though Brett didn't seem to remember anything from the night Drew had come over a few weeks ago. He couldn't even remember getting home, and while I was disappointed in a way it was for the best. There had been enough people in my life who had seen me at my worst and I had no desire to add another person to that very long list.

Noticing that I had wondered off too much and not helped her as I normal would. I say to her, “OH, um okay is there anything else you will be needing Naomi?”

As I skip my way up the stairs, ready to recap my day to Alice, my phone shrills, causing me to pause just before my front door to retrieve it. “Hey, Alice.”

Jane stood there and looked surprised as her eyes started to look sad as she hesitantly took a step toward me. I couldn't help myself she looked so sad and defeated I practically ran to her when she took a step toward me and wrapped my hands around her. I couldn't deny it I missed the crap out of her, I kept making exquisite saying I didn't miss her, but the second she was in my arms I never wanted to let her go or be far from her. Yes she drove me crazy, but she was mine to drive crazy. I heard her trying to say something, but I didn't want to talk I tried calming her