Personal Narrative : My Fear Of Childhood On Roller Coasters

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“Look!” my mom exclaims as we cruise down Highway 49. I take out my earbuds, peer out the window, and I see it. The red, peeling paint of the metal support bars, the eccentric yellow of the roller coaster car, the passengers with their mouths wide open with excitement as they fly down the rails of the roller coaster. Children are screaming in fear; the good kind, of course. I think back to the time, a few years before, when I had been the screaming child on the ride, yelling so loud it seemed I was the only one there, hands reaching into the sky so high I could almost touch the clouds.
“That was a fun day, wasn’t it?” my mom asks, breaking the silence.
“It sure was,” I reply, putting my earphones back into my ears.
I begin to listen to the calming beats of the music, and allow myself to drift away with them. I start to reminisce about the great times I had that day, July 5, 2015, specifically when I conquered my fear of heights on roller coasters. It was a sunny, clear day. School had ended nearly three weeks before, and I was ready for some adventure. My family found this amusement park online, and had been longing to go since that day. I was skeptical at first, mainly because of my fear of heights, especially on rides like roller coasters. Before this day, I had never thought of even going to an amusement park. I was a simple kid, just living day by day. My summers consisted of listening to music, playing games on my computer, and occasionally read a Nancy Drew book
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