Personal Narrative On Reggie

I spent most of the morning stuck in my thoughts, why was I not grieving my parent's death? Why had I never noticed I was supernatural? Dominating most of my thoughts, did I have feelings for Jordan, my brother's best friend?

My grandmother, who is the mother of my mom, passed away due to heart failure at the age of 87. Since I was 6 or 7 she had been living in our house. The reason for that was, my grandfather, that I was named after passed away a year before I was born, so she was alone, and she was starting to get old. Since she lived with us for so many years, she had been a very important figure in my life. I can honestly say that she was like a 3rd parent for me, and losing her, made me fell horrible and helpless. I witnessed how real death is because of her passing. Combined with puberty, my grief caused me to become depressed for a long time. As I’m looking back it sounds really extreme, but there were some days that I did not even leave the bed thinking that there was no point to our existence. Thanks to some psychological counselling however, I was able to overcome that mental

As I step into the oversized building, I freeze in my tracks. I start to feel dizzy. I recognize this immediately as the courthouse I was in this summer, in Oconto County. This was the same lobby, I remember passing through it. I suddenly realize how long I’ve been standing there, and almost have to run to catch up with my class. When I catch up, my class is beginning to enter a courtroom, the same courtroom. I continue into the room with the class, and see the judge that I saw this summer. I already know, of course, that his name is Michael Judge, the main judge of this courthouse. He looks me straight in the eye, before turning back to the class. Indeed, he must remember what I said, before I had left this courtroom that day.

I was surrounded by the sound of graphite moving anxiously over paper. The clamor filled my ears and collided with the dull ticking of the clock that hung over the SAT proctor’s disorderly, graying hair. There were only eighteen minutes left and I still had not written a single word. The prompt reverberated in my head like a ringing bell, but I could not form cohesive thoughts. My heart raced and my fingernails dug into the curve of my palm in panic, leaving small, pallid impressions in their wake. Pleading with myself, I considered the page that lay askew on the on the chipped desk in front of me. I wrote a desperate and painfully arbitrary sentence that I quickly erased. Nothing sounded right. I had studied and prepared for this moment with

I got home, and there was my mother, crying. That was helluva sight. That was the only time I’d ever see my mother cry. In 26 goddam years, that was the only time. She didn’t even cry at Allie’s goddam funeral.

He couldn’t help that he was raised in a terrible environment. His mom was a prostitute and a crack-head and his father was an abusive drunk who collected workers compensation. His father’s name was Jeffrey Greene. He was a construction worker, a metal beam fell disabling his right leg. He walked with a limp. He was one of the most grouchy men you could have ever meet. He didn’t seem to care that his wife

My mom spoke very little to each of us and seemed to be gone longer and longer each day until Saturday, which was moving day. That Saturday I had a band concert for relay for life at my local park. As the performance came to an end my best friend and I hop in the backseat of her mom's sweltering car and crank up the radio. We listen to our favorite throwbacks as her mom speeds down the streets rushing to get me home. As we pull in the drive, an unfamiliar vehicle idles in my driveway. Inside my house lays all of my moms belongings neatly piled up by the door waiting to be taken. My mom greets me at the door and introduces me to her boyfriend. He is much taller than me and talks down to me as if I'm a child. I cut the conversation short and sit on the couch with my dog Casey as they continue moving her things. After the last item is hauled away, my mom looks at me through the glass of the front door and says “I'll pick up Casey later.” and vanishes without another

I feel a warm presemce on the back of my neck. I turn and find the guy who came in late. He points to my seat, then himself. I shake my head and turn back. Again, he taps me and motion to my seat and then himself. I once again ignore him and return to my conversation with my brother. Before the guy can disturb me again the bell rings and the class starts to empty. I grab my bag and head towards the door.

mine. Grabbing a sweatshirt, I flip off the light switch and snatch a piece of gum. It is universally

“Well we came to the assumption that you are very close to your father and he is going to be at the game tonight, right,” they said.

Swoosh. My skis plow through the wet snow as I tuck down the hill, recording ski speed and distance to complete a physics project on kinetic friction. My hands skim through the pages of the novel Rosaura a las Diez, my eyes scanning for examples of the past tense: el pretérito, imperfecto, pluscuamperfecto. I leave class after a discussion on feminism in Frankenstein and continue to argue with my friends all the way to the cafeteria. When asked if I’m planning on studying a specific area next year, I reply that I haven’t decided; I find myself engrossed in every class I take. Enthusiastic and engaged, I am excited to to work with diligence and focus to explore new areas of study in college.

1. No matter how hard we try to prepare ourselves for challenging experiences and try to stay positive, it becomes harder to do than planned when the time comes. It was the end of the last semester and I was on the verge of emotional depression that totally overwhelmed me. During the exam period, I wasted my weekends on the Internet, chatting and Facebook-ing. I needed to submit an important paper on Tuesday morning. On Sunday night, after wasting so much time of mine and having a little red eyes because of so much exposure to electronic screens, I sat down to write my paper. Only then did I realize that the paper was due the next morning, not on Tuesday. I was extremely nervous because it was too little a time to finish it. Moreover, I was so angry with myself that I wanted to cry. It was a realization that I was off course in my study habits and that I had not overcome my habit of willingly putting myself in difficult positions. The more I thought about being in that mess, the angrier I got with myself. I got even angrier thinking about how it was not the first time in my life that I put myself in such a situation. I could not concentrate on my paper because of that emotional response. Then suddenly I thought that I just needed to talk to someone and calm down. I called my classmate and just told her about everything. She said that the instructor had actually extended the deadline until Thursday. It was such a relief. I thanked her profusely and decided

I had just finished my basketball practice. I was feeling ecstatic because I was making baskets left and right like Kobe Bryant. My coach even told me that he has never seen me play like that before. Then I strutted outside and found my father parked outside the school in his large, brown pick-up truck. I hopped inside and turned my seat heater to high because it was frigid, winter weather outside. My dad made some casual small talk, then he gave me the news. He stated in a low, dull voice, “Hey Jack, grandma past away today.”

I can still remember vividly the day my mother passed away. My mother passed away at a critical point in my life when I was seventeen years old from a short term illness. She was sick for a week and I remember thinking this could be serious, however, my mother declined to go to the hospital because of the distance and financial hardship. I had loss my father when I was three years old, so my mother was a single mother. I have step sisters and brother, but I was not particularly close to them. Losing my mother was a defining moment in my life for it changed my life irrevocably. I was devastated, but I had to become strong, proactive and it spurred me to choose a new career path.

Heavy textbooks overshadow every corner of the desk. Pens, pencils, and highlighters are scattered throughout the small table. A tower of paperwork is piled so high that a slight breeze would cause an avalanche of loose-leaf paper to crash onto the carpet. Not a single square centimeter of the mahogany desk could be seen underneath all this clutter. In the center of this chaotic environment sits a high school girl, hunched over in a light grey foldable chair, intensely focusing on doing the schoolwork laid out in front of her. In the background, soft classical music plays, offsetting the occasional exasperated sigh leaving her mouth every so often. On the blank white wall lies nothing but a poster of the SAT and ACT dates and a bright yellow post-it note reminding her to register to take these tests soon.