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Personal Narrative: My Dad Changed My Life

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Often, we forget the things that matter most. When I was young, I ignored all the things that truly created my happiness. Now, I am constantly drawn to my beginning, as it is where I begin to end. I grew up near a nature reserve in northern California, where the summer heat steals the breeze and the winter rain mocks the earth. The coast was only a few miles away, bringing in icy gales and storms. There was nothing nearby. The area was barren, destroyed by toxic rain that broke the ground, but my family settled there anyway. My parents always said they liked the challenge, but I despised it. Who wants a dead scrap of land? We made the best of what we had and rooted ourselves down. As the years went by, my revulsion for the pathetic patch…show more content…
He wore a yellow jacket and carried with him a sparkling silver tool. He told my family that he would bring us to a new world, one filled with golden gates and ladies dressed in white; however, my parents turned him away- but I let him in.
He told me of the cities filled with lights and songs of life. It was all I had ever dreamed of and he could give it to me. We conspired that very night. He struck me with silver and carried me to a wheeled vessel. I rode in the back for what felt like years, but soon I could see the paradise. There were buildings that hit the clouds and people everywhere. The sun bounced off the structures like a ball.
But he rode past the beauty and took me to a building that coughed smoke. He sold me to the people inside and left without a second glance. It was there that I was broken and the veil had finally disappeared. I wished for my home and family, but only the silence listened. The heathens tore me to pieces and tattooed me with
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Each page brought a new, sorrowful story. I was the paper signed by an arguing couple. I was the paper that was taped on the door of a struggling home. I was the paper that made up a book that was never read. I was given my wish to explore, but only with the damnation of eternal roaming. I once kissed the earth and held her mighty hand. Now I fly with the breeze, with the cries of broken, with the words of the forgotten, and with the knowledge of regret.
Once, the wind carried one piece of me by my old home. The grass had grown thick and tall and flowers had sprung out of the ground. The area was no longer barren, but lush and green and full of life. I caught a glimpse of my parents. They stood mighty in the land they had tamed, surrounded by new sprouts that were filled with hope. A lonely stump marks the only memory that I had ever been there. I watch and weep as the life I threw away taunts me. But it’s over soon, as I am passed on through the breeze, and the winds always blow
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