Personal Narrative: My Closet

I found that there's people in high school that's going to want, what you have. I realize I don't have the luxury of explaining myself every time and I shouldn't have to. I see people finesse other people to get there way. They will be friends with you in the beginning but turn into your worst enemy at the end. During school, I had P.E class as my 2nd period and I had to change my clothes to get a good grade. As I took the lock out of my Locker, I started putting my clothes inside my locker and putting my iPhone in my bag. As soon as I put my bag in the locker, someone came to me and ask "is coach here today?" And I said " no, we have a substitute" he said " ok thanks man". After that we all left the locker room to go to the gym. I went back to my locker (the

My home town, where I grew up at, and where I am at now. These three characters link to the three different houses.

When we were playing ultimate football inside one of the players threw the ball to one of the sideline players. When he threw it to me for the touchdown I dove for it and caught the ball and got a touchdown. When I fell to the ground Jacob started running to try to stop me from catching it he was trying to slow down so he was basically stomping to try to stop himself. Then he stomped on my hand I yelled in pain Dawson helped me up it hurt really bad and then Mrs Dibbens asked me if I was ok. I said yes because I thought that it was just a little injury and it would be better by my next hour. When I went into the locker room I tried to change but my hand hurt to much. But I managed to do it the hardest part of changing was when I was putting on my shoes. When I left the locker room I was about 5 minutes late to my next period. When I got there he asked Mr. Hatch asked me why I was holding my hand. I told him that Jacob Haag stepped on my hand. I asked him if I could go to the nurses he told me yes and I

It was late Tuesday, and I was up late reading an allegory when a muffled thud pulled me back to reality. I sat up still as a statue while I listened. the sound seemed to be coming from downstairs. I sprang out of bed and ran into the across the hallway.

When you think of Austin, Texas, you think of music, food, and the Capitol. There’s the infamous 6th street, all the barbecue you could ever dream of, and being inside the Capitol is, in fact, incredibly beautiful.

When I was around the age 11-12 my sister and I would go to our Dad's furniture place. The front of the building was in good shape but the back of the building was effect by hurricane Katrina. The tail of the building was scattered with sharp wood, scraggy stripped tin, and many other hazards. This place was forbidden from My sister and I, yet one day we decided to go on an 'adventure' back there. I ended up with tin stuck in my leg but neither of us would tell my dad how I got the injury. At the end of the day I told my dad and my sister was punished for my

I was walking home down an old dirt road I’d never been down before, after my truck broke down, that's when I started to hear panting and the sound of small foot steps getting closer and closer. I started to walk a little faster since I wasn't looking for any trouble, the next thing I knew I was being grabbed from every direction and a bag was put over my head. Then I was picked up and I could feel what seemed like hundreds of small hands pressing on my back as I was passed down until I was loaded into some sort of wagon or buggy. I held at guard by only two of them as we slowly trotted down the road, I never heard any hoofs on the gravel so I assumed the other tiny handed bandits were pulling the wagon. I started to think about everything that had happened to me so far and it all started coming together, the small

Multicolored lights lazily fly by, tails of neon blue, purple, orange, and red trailing behind them. They drift past the window that I stare out of, almost seeming to wave at me as they float on through an eternal dream. I sit in a small travel pod, soft violet hues spilling out over the cushions, walls, and floor. I'm not sure where I am headed, but it's certain that it's far from my old life of struggling and pain. All I can see as I gaze out my single window, is space, an infinite inky canvas. Colors dotting and splashing its serene fabric and edges. The scene is one of tranquility and peace, letting myself become one with the soothing atmosphere of calm. I'm now far away from the hardships that haunted me, as I travel to a new destination

Decor has always been important to me because it changes the way I interact with my environment. As someone who is heavily involved in the arts, I am ridiculously visual. I cannot work if my workspace is not organized, I once had an office job and I could barely stand my boring cubicle. My pinterest is filled with boards of cute dorm ideas and home decor DIYs. I am a person whose mood can change the second they step into a pretty room, and I use my space around me as another form of self expression.

It's only been two day's since I chose to live at Sam's for a week. It's really not so bad. I have lot's of food. I have watched enough t.v. to last me a year though. Honistly I so bored. I'm here all alone. Though I thought this would be fun. Now though not so much. I have my reason's and at the time I thought they were good. Now that I am here though I see that I need more just over sized stuff, food, and space. Who needs this much space when your all alone?? I'm very grateful that I'll only be here for a week. I've had so much pizza I'm so burnt out. Though it's still a little fun here. I get in shopping carts and roll down the esle's in then. While I was looking around for food I found this really big birthday cake. I don't know who Sally

Journal, here we are in week three. It seems time is flying by, for two weeks have come and gone, but

When I walk into his closet, I immediately smell the dust of moon rocks and soil, and hear the recording of a space mission going on in the background. I start to feel around the smooth walls of the closet, occasionally coming across bumps here and there. I realize that the bumps are glow-in-the-dark and they are star-shaped. I observe that they are all over the ceiling too, making it look like a starry night. I notice an old, American space suit and helmet hanging off the wall. Also, I see a U.S. Navy Officer uniform with a Korean War patch on it. I walk up to a rather small chest, and open it. I see folded certificates of graduation from Purdue University and the University of Southern California. In addition, I see countless awards and

Where did I put them? I swear I left them on the kitchen table or was it my dresser. I don’t know. They aren’t either of those places and I need to go! Oh, here they are! “Mom, I found my keys! Bye, Love you. See you tonight!”

The living room phone continued to ring. I rarely answered calls to my house, and attempted to ignore the obnoxious sound. The phone’s commotion lingered, “Ring…Ring…Ring.” I grudgingly stood up from the couch and walked to answer the phone. “Johnson residence, this is Josiah.” I stated. A mournful voice whispered, “Josiah…This is Mrs. Wright.” She paused for an awkward moment. “Caden isn’t with us anymore.” My heart froze. I responded in an instant, “What do you mean? What’s going on?” Silence overtook the conversation for a minute before the now sobbing mother answered, “Caden shot himself last night. He isn’t with us anymore.” Mrs. Wright continued the conversation, but her words blurred into unrecognizable sounds. My thoughts had preoccupied

I glanced into my closet and sighed. My clothes were bright and colorful which didn’t reflect my mood. I kept looking around for something dark to wear. The person whom I was a year ago matched this messy, out of place closet, but that wasn’t me, not any more. That person was fearless, bold, and independent, but one doctors visit can change your life. They told me it required Chemo and the cost would be high, but they didn’t tell me the emotional cost. Losing all my hair was just a stepping stone to depression. After that the colors of my world seemed to fade. My closet with its abundance of colorful clothes just reminded of the life I once knew; it was like a sky rocket into deeper and more pensive depression. Over the course of the past year