Personal Narrative: My First Paper

I do not remember him ever living in the same house as me. I do not remember him leaving, either. All I recall are the countless flights and short visits. He left the day after my 4th birthday, which is the only detail I know of the event. I was never told how, why or where to. I think that was for the best. My parents divorced when I was little, it wasn’t difficult at first since we lived close. But soon after this, my mom found someone else and me, my sister, and my mom moved to GA. This is how I learned to be strong. This transition was difficult for everyone so I decided to be the one everyone else can lean on. I was everyone’s rock.

My experience with literature begin in kindergarten when reading the Magic Treehouse books. These books were the first in my life that I would actually read willingly cover to cover. Before I would begin to read a book just to quit after I deemed it boring or dull, but these books were different I actually liked them. This would continue until the 3rd grade where I would read different books like don’t you know there’s a war going on, it was a World War II book that was centered on an elementary kid like myself. After that, I read historical fiction consistently mainly involving wars Civil War, WWI, WWII, Vietnam, etc. I also felt like if I had to read for an any assignment it was forced and I would skim or do little actually

I remember the fall of 2007. On that specific autumn morning it was “take your child to work” day at my dad’s workplace in a retirement home. My father walked my younger sister and me around the gargantuan, sterile white building, introducing us to the elderly residents and workers, holding our hands as we shyly waved with a meek “Hi,”. I distinctly remember meeting one lady that stood out among the others: one of the laundry maids, Caroline. Caroline was, in a word, great. In several words, she was about 21, excited, sweet, and hilarious. Moreover, she spoke with a foreign and strange new accent that very appealing to my eight year old ears. On our way home, I specifically remember mentioning to my dad that she was easily my favorite of all the people I met. Several months later, she and my father were married.

I love summer time, especially around my birthday, which was on the fourth of July. I always had great weather and fireworks on my special day. When I was little, I believed my father got me fireworks for my birthday. My appreciation and love for my dad was such, I always wanted to make him proud.

Finally, turning eighteen years old, I am finally legal, well finally legal to get into clubs. Partying every Thursday at Nicholls was the trend. Getting a taste of freedom, not having to worry about anything or anyone was an awesome feeling. I lived life and always was the life of the party. When I moved backed to New Orleans nothing changed, except the day I went out. Every Sunday was the day to go out and have fun at the House of Blues. Leaving the club till about three in the morning; trying to sneak back in the house before my parents awake. Those were the day, my irresponsible days of “living my life”. Everything changed once I became pregnant at age twenty.

School was about to begin,that meant the end of summer. No more video games, vacations, or parties,and more learning, homework, and tests. I was also wondering if I Had any friends from last school year, but all of my thoughts changed when I became friends with Samuel.

Life can be hard when you think you have to be perfect. At home my parents always told me to do my best and they would be happy. Doing your best is one thing, but in my mind, I had to exceed even more. I had a goal to have 100% for all my overall grades. Well if you think about it, I was letting it bother me a little too much.

i wanted too do something tooday but it was dificult i was gona have fun butt i fel like it is impossible becuse im so dum. i want to cryi wanted too do something tooday but it was dificult i was gona have fun butt i fel like it is impossible becuse im so dum. i want to cryi wanted too do something tooday but it was dificult i was gona have fun butt i fel like it is impossible becuse im so dum. i want to cryi wanted too do something tooday but it was dificult i was gona have fun butt i fel like it is impossible becuse im so dum. i want to

Embarrassment and humility usually have a negative underlying tone towards the person who has experienced it. It makes the person feel awkward, self-conscious and think “why me?” However, in my situation, while I did experience embarrassment that made me feel self-conscious and ashamed, it made me more confident and open-minded. It all started one day, in my senior year of high school…

Somewhere in the middle east, the sun is displaying exhibiting its full capabilities potential, producing temperatures well over beyond one hundred degrees. While I am standing guard, a motorcyclist is approaching me at a dangerous speed.The dare-devil motorcyclist defying the laws of gravity, weaving maneuvering in and out of traffic, tires gripping grappling dirt with every compound of rubber, and creating enough G-force to rattle stationary vehicles he is passing, exhaust screaming screeching in shear pain agony. Straight hauling-ass. The motorcyclist has a curious cargo carrier that is strapped to his thigh, and most motorcyclists on the streets travel with a carrier on the bike’s frame. He is ignoring the translated warning sign on the back of my vehicle that reads “CAUTION STAY ONE HUNDRED METERS BACK, OR YOU WILL BE SHOT.”

I laid in the hospital bed after I had the surgery. I couldn't believe what had happened that day. It seemed like no one could have stopped me from what was going to happen, because after all I was ten and determined.

I see a lot of the same quote by Oscar Wilde, “Be yourself; everyone else is taken.” The thing is, it’s frightening to be myself when people like me are only 4% of the world with 61% against us. LGBTs have a tough life, but it’s ours.

I know myself. Parents say they know you best but sometimes they can hardly tell. Kids can keep secrets, and especially teenagers. You can adjust yourself to look, act, and believe in certain ways. You can act like you’re perfectly fine like there’s nothing wrong with you. That’s what I try to do. Back in sophomore year, I hinted at my parents I had anxiety. Dad seemed like he wanted to take me to a therapist. He seemed supportive, interested in it. There I lay, wasting away in my room daily, certain I will go see a therapist to see if there’s anything wrong with me at all. Then Junior year came up.

It was just another day to survive. I sat down at my lunch table quietly and began eating. I sat alone every day at lunch, because all of the other kids make fun of me for being different. I was the smartest kid at my school, and everyone targeted me for it. I stayed silent and kept my head down, but soon someone finally noticed me.

Growing up, every time I stood in front of a crowd, my heart would start pounding, louder than a gong in a yoga class, and my leg would not stop shaking to the point where it would appear as it was having a seizure. “There’s nothing to be scared about”, my parents would assure me as I continued to search for my ice pick in case I froze up on stage. Despite endless deep breaths and attempting to imagine the crowd in their underwear, my mind and body could not fight the terror of potential public humiliation. Now, this wasn’t just any other “Oh no! It’s 7 feet tall and hairy, I’m scared of Bigfoot!” kind of fear, though running into Bigfoot in the middle of the street would be quite alarming. This fear was the kind that made your entire body cringe, like when you think of nails on a chalkboard. Regardless of what I was doing- performing a dance, talking about my favourite fruit, or simply just standing- if there was an audience, my anxiety grew to the size of an elephant. And believe me, there was nothing in the world I wanted more than to stand in front of a crowd and be confident. However, that doesn’t change overnight. Think of it this way, this concern of mine was like cleaning your room; everyone wants the end result of a spotless room, or in my case to overcome public humiliation, yet people always push it off for later. You could say I was an expert at procrastination, having not cleaned my room for months as well as avoided any situation that could possibly lead to