Personal Narrative-My Dichotomy

Threads to Which I belong is a book that captivated my soul. As I read through the pages of history, I found myself traveling back in time. Invisible I stood in Mississippi watching a family’s history unfold. As I turned the pages, my emotions changed constantly. I experienced emotions of anger, disgust, sorrow, and happiness. The author has written an outstanding piece of work that forces you to consider researching your own family history.

“Come on guys! Get moving!” Sam yelled. “Regan focus on your kicks.” she told me. Feeling the looks of the others, not yet placed in lanes. I kept swimming. I skipped a flip turn to regain my breath, but I’d known I would pay for it later because the coaches punished us for not doing stuff we knew we should. At the end of practice

Hi iam Edgardo Flores i was born in casa grande, az not that far away from our state capital,Phoenix, Az.theres nothing better to do in a hot summer than going out with the friends to a lake and have a blast riding jet skis boats and my favorite, swimming!My activites of the day are shooting,riding horses,and my favorite one is quad riding.Thats right! ive been doing these fun exciting hobbies since i was 9 years old.pretty young huh?

I’ve been trudging along for what seems like hours. I lost count of my steps sometime after my car broke down. When I look around all I see is an almost tangible grey curtain hiding everything except for a small segment of the highway. As I look forward the dark grey of the asphalt blends into the fog. I have no Idea what time it is when the fog rolled in my phone died. Without a clock, any length of time seems to go on forever, especially when the sun is hiding behind the fog. I just something I don’t understand about my situation, there has been no change in light since the fog rolled in. Same brightness the whole time. It’s almost like it’s not that I can’t tell time is passing. It’s that time isn’t passing, but that’s impossible.

When it comes to what separates me from other teenagers, there would be quite a bit to tell. I would say a major difference which separates me from my peers is my love for barbershop harmony music. I do not have a quartet of my own; however, I love to sing barbershop tags with other friends at church. I set myself apart from the world because of my beliefs: as a New Testament christian, I believe the bible gives us all instruction concerning spiritual matters.

At a young age, I moved from the country I was born in (Dominican Republic) to Miami Florida. Moving is not an easy thing to do, I had to leave all of my friends and family behind and become familiarized with uncertain place. I was surrounded by the unknown, everything was strange and so different to what I was usually use to. At the time I could not speak any English at all but that eventually did not matter to me, I slowly started adapting to my new environment and I became more positive. Although I could not communicate well and had a few obstacles I was very organized with my studies and kept very decent grades.

My personal narrative was not very detailed because I could not remember most of the race and the reason I black out at the finish line. I gave everything had in the race and I barely remember any part of race. Till my family told I the whole race and I guess it finally came back to me but very few moments. But I remember everything before the first mile of the race and looking back that I’m a very spiritually person. Plus, I keep my traditions alive and still believe my way in my Native world. Instead of falling into the white way but I have to act white so I can make in this world and make a living for myself. I had to write about my last race because it was the best day of my life and I remember eating after the race at Texas roadhouse.

My career was finally looking up, I was working as a senior accountant with multiple multi-million accounts, full-cycle, I finally finished my Bachelor’s degree. I even purchased my first home and bought a new car! Then, it happened, I found out I was going to be a mom. I was excited, and terrified at the same time, I even took parenting classes! I had no idea how to do the formula thing and diapers? Yeah… ok.

For my personal narrative, I have to write about a hero of mine, my hero is my best friend, Kat. Kat is my hero for multiple reasons, such as making me a better person, and a happier one. She also helps me edit and draw a lot of the time, which helps because she is super good at both those things.

Being biracial is such a unique experience and has a lot to do with the person I am today. Growing up, I did not completely realize how it would shape me as a person. Now that I am older and looking back on past experiences, I know exactly how it has impacted me. There were many times where I felt uncomfortable and confused, because I was different. That has all changed now that I recognize that the differences are what make people beautiful.

It’s Monday, March 15 1943. Each day just gets harder, more people start getting sent to execution camps or how my parents tell my little brother, “a place that needs more workers.” I’m scared for the day it’s my parents getting called to leave, or my little bother, Ash. I know things will start to become stricter due to the Resistance fighters, me being one of them, which have been trying to get through the Muranowska Pokorna Wall. The number of German soldiers to barricade walls has increased. With the hundreds of us that attempted to escape through the wall, I was lucky I wasn’t killed and was able to get away without the Germans knowing I was part of the resistance. I know my family couldn’t handle losing me now. Both my parents are weak and they know that there time to be sent to the concentration camps is coming soon. I just hope it’s me who leaves before them. I don’t think I could take care of ash on my own. I don’t think I could make the situation we’re in seem any better than how it really is. He’s seven years old, but he’s had to grow up a lot faster than most seven year olds his age, everybody in Warsaw has. Tonight was the last night I will be staying in Warsaw, or at least that is what I am hoping for. It took a lot for my family to understand my decision to be part of the resistance. But they respect my choice now. I know it is selfish, and I know it won’t be easy. But I can’t hide anymore, I can’t wait around to be killed. I want to fight back even if it means maybe leaving behind the thing I love most in the world. The fights are

The summer of 2015 was the summer I moved for the first time in my life. Moving was a mix of emotions because after thirteen years I became attached to my bedroom and the looks of my house. The certain smells I would get when I walked through the door. Then, leaving that house that I have lived in and that bedroom I slept in for all those years was hard. It was a nice house and all, and I loved my room, but only a couple days later, I was already comfortable in my new home.

When the coach blew his whistle, the other girls effortlessly flew by me. By the conclusion of my fourth lap, the coach heeded no awareness of me - the ultimate person to pass the finish line. Back compressed against the wall, heaving and sore, I bemoaned even considering myself competent for tryouts and for embarrassing myself.

I was not the ideal gymnast. My lanky body dwarfed the other girls in my gymnastics class, and my age created a clear divide – while most girls start gymnastics in pre-school, my first day on a tumbling mat was in second grade. In addition to minimal upper body strength, I was pigeon-toed, with my left leg longer than my right. But despite my disadvantages, I went to every practice I could, and decided that I would become the best gymnast I could be – and I was. For 16 hours a week, year-round, for seven years, I worked. Finally, when I was 13, I won the Junior Olympic Level 5 Maryland State Championship for vault. It seemed like I had finally achieved what I had worked so long for, and from there out, I had nowhere to go but up.

While sitting in the barn, I began to reminisce of my life prior to living in this village. It was a time that consisted of living with my parents near a stream, although can’t recall its official name, of which was encapsulated by a peaceful environment throughout my youth and adolescence. According to every definition of the word, the life I lived could have been tersely summarized by the word “blissful”. I was referred to as a socialite, ironically enough, as I enjoyed getting to know strangers, passerbys and lingerers alike, in order to understand them, to befriend them, and to learn from them. Furthermore, I used to pride myself on my judge of character, of which I believed to be “top notch”, if you will, and my desire and willingness