Personal Narrative: Out Of Mind

An experience that has influenced my work and academic goals has been my family. My wife and I have one son, who departed for college this past weekend. His departure was a very emotional event for us because we did just about everything together (hockey, trips, etc). Four years ago, we brought in four siblings under foster care, which is the main topic for this essay. Four years ago, my wife and I were hoping to adopt one child and we were hoping to find a girl that needed what is commonly called a “forever home”. This process was extremely difficult as the system is not easy to navigate (I could be more blunt with this description but I won’t here). After many trials and tribulations with the foster/adoption system in Alaska, I had resigned

I felt the tears push against my eyelids, threatening to spill onto my cheeks. The deep breaths that were supposed to calm me down were not working in the slightest and I wanted nothing more than to hide under something, anything, and avoid all responsibility for a while. Through blurred vision, I could barely make out the shocked faces of my friends. This was not supposed to happen here, in the middle of physics class. This was the kind of thing that a person should save for being safely hidden behind closed doors. I glanced down at the four little words on my phone and lost it. The floodgates opened. Hot tears turned my face into a network of rivers and lakes. The saltwater filled the dark bags under my eyes and turned them into oceans. Rivulets

I pushed myself onto my weak feet and stumbled home. For days I couldn’t leave my room, my anxiety and depression preventing me from moving, pinning me to my bed. His words still rung in my ears and all I could do was think of him. Somehow in the midst of my thoughts, my sorrow slowly turned to anger. I didn’t understand why he would shut me out so abruptly and suddenly I realized that I had to change, that I had to move on.

She's got the black plastic of a cutting knife handle gripped in her palm. Beige-painted fingernails glisten under the scrutinizing lights of our glazed kitchen; a classy and neutral color, like herself. She's grinning in concentration, a thin upward-curving line shaping her lips.

"Are you sure?" These were the words the 8 year old version of me first heard after coming home from my grandparent's house. When I was younger, I spent most of my time with my father's parents. Both of mine worked, and we needed someone to babysit. Whether it be in politics or behavior, they are the epitome of being conservative; however, My mother is quite a bit more liberal. I grew up listening to the likes of Bill O'Reilly and Glenn Beck at my grandparents, and I would often come home to repeat their extremely conservative message. "Are you sure?" were always the words my mother would say to me. These words usually defeated an 8 year old me, but it is now the cue to start a friendly debate. I have grown to be much more like her since I

“Hah! BALDY!” He screeched. I was sure my head was gleaming like a street lamp as everyone chanted ‘Baldy’ to the moon and back. My chemo had left me as a nauseous, hairless, bag of bones, and my whole school situation hadn’t exactly gotten better either. My cheeks flushing, I shoved my hands in my sweatpants pockets and ran off. I would have started crying, but I really didn’t have any tears left. I had been crying for days. Weeks, even. Heck, I didn’t know how long. Could have been years, but I wouldn’t care. Nothing mattered anymore. I looked up to my apartment window, and my mom was waving me on encouragingly. Thanks the lord she didn’t shout out the window, or her thick Russian accent would surely provoke

Thoughts racing though my head of every excuse in the book of what I was going to tell my boss. Should I say I had an appointment or that my dog got sick? Or should I even go out on a limb and tell him I am sick? Or maybe I should tell him the truth which is always the best option. It was my second day on the job and was already panicking about being late. My jeep had broke down and the battery wouldn’t start.

I'm composing you this since it's opportunity sure things are talked about. I contemplated how and where we turned out badly as I looked over some old messages between you and I. When you were conveyed in Qatar, the legitimate answer is we quit being there for each other. We communicated such a great amount of adoration to each other and were so worried with the other individual rather than ourselves. As I read it dishearten to me to perceive how we made this bond amid our marriage to let everything come apart out of childishness. We both were experiencing self issues, I was pregnant you sent. I couldn't relate and being pregnant turned into all I contemplated. Which lead to feeling undesirable on both sides. It never sounded good to me why

My family and I were forced to leave our home in Syria on October 16 2016. I will never forget that day for

I like the constant movement of passengers coming and going. It's the only place that I don't mind the chaos. Every now and then I'll look through the big glass windows, and watch the planes land and take off.

There has been many unexpected thing happened to many but I am going to go to tell you one. One times me and my family was going on a road trip to Bronson and we was on the interstate we was in a little car and we got coat up in a bunch of big trucks. And they had pend us in between them and they would not let us out. And one had navy written on the side and another on was a wide load it had a bulldozer on his loud boy and the rest of them was just box vanes. That was caring papers and material that we all use every day. They finely let us out and we went on and we was at a red lite and they pulled up beside us and be hind us and we took off and one of them turned and the rest was be hind us. And we was going down the road and one would

Who knew someone so close to you could be so distant? Who knew that a ten-year old could interpret such a catastrophic event. It all started on November 13th 2007.. on this day, my father and I moved to the U.K. from Florida. We were going to be living in a community home in the heart of England. I didn’t know what to think, new home, new friends, new school, new country, everything was new. My father and I unpacked our bags from our old, beat up Cherokee and carried them into our humble abode for the next few months. The room was small, I of course expected rainbows and butterflies but that’s just the mind of a ten-year old adolescent. I began to unpack my clothes- basically a plethora of pink, purple & anything neon. But that’s not the point, that was then and this was now.

“Why aren’t I accepted,” The deceptive words caught in my throat and begged me to give up. In the mirror stood a girl who would be overall improved by death. My stomach snarls like a pack of wolves nearly about to attack, but as always they back down, going away into their cages once more. My telephone all of a sudden ejects with the sound of my lugubrious ringtone. It panics the waterworks exploding out of my bloodshot eyes. I clutch the unholy box and answer the call to let the demons free roam.

I was embarrassed, feeling pain, watching everyone’s eyes looking at me, and knowing something wasn’t right. I could tell that my knee wasn’t normal. I left the door thinking it was going to be an awesome day, but did not expect the unexpected.

In the remains of a once majestic kingdom, I lay. Broken and shattered. My mind grappling with the reality of what had just happened. I ripped myself apart further, I didn’t think it was mentally possible to venture that far out beyond my breaking point. How did I let this happen? In every failed attempt at piecing myself back together. I could never quite figure out how to make the pieces fit the mould. I was utterly consumed in the tireless, endless struggle of moulding each piece to perfection before I dared to try piecing myself back together. Every word said to me out of spite clouded my mind, filled every inch of it like nicotine. my judgment grew hazy. I scrawled them out on paper, word by word, letter by letter. Then I found