Personal Narrative

I arrived at practice with my shoes laced, hair pulled back, and the mindset that I was unstoppable. I could play against every member of my team and come out the victor on any given day. It was the first day of practice that week, and challenge matches were scheduled to begin. The team went through our daily shuffle of drills, conditioning, and running to prepare for what was lying ahead. While warming up with my friends, I felt great, talking about homecoming, boys, and a variety of irrelevant events. I felt ready. The odds were in my favor and nobody could stop me.

Sitting in a hospital waiting room, alone, afraid; and waiting for the news; would she be ok? Would she even survive? My nerves were out of control; my heart was beating through my chest, you could literally see it thumping through my top. The beads of sweat racing down my forehead, as if I was in the middle of the Safari dessert. I have been an athlete my entire life, yet I have never felt so physically drained. I look around, my eyes opening, then closing; as if I am coming in and out of consciousness, then suddenly echoed words begin to ring around my ear drums….” Sir…...sir, can you hear me? Sir please, we need to know what happened. We need to know what happened to her. Maybe my motionless state showed my

At the beginning of my freshman year I was attempting to develop motivation as well as seeking purpose and determining value. Whether in school or during sports or other activities and events in my life, I was constantly searching for motivation towards a goal or achievement.

I will start this off with an introduction. I am Kelly Rose Keschner, an incoming sophomore in Highschool. I would say I get pretty good grades and try so hard in school to prove to myself and my peers that I am a very good student despite what has happened to me.

Were I to name one thing unique about me, it would be that I’m one of the only people I know who can say from experience which is more difficult; writing a personal essay or surviving a life-or-death, take-no-prisoners spy shootout, complete with a crowd of bad guys, laser guns, and of course, a hero and a sidekick. I’m the sidekick.

I think about it for a moment. "Thanks for the offer babe, but I'd rather fly this one solo" I reply to him.

In late September of 2010, was the year I learned a new word “Depression”! I was in 1st grade and everything was fun because I had no responsibilities or worries. I didn’t know how to feel grief for a long time because I was always happy. I didn’t know that a family member could own a child.

My dad began a series of symptoms from a still-mystery virus. Projectile vomiting colored his face with pale green and guilt. The total lack of control and dependence on my mother struck him to his core—diminishing his pride. Severe rigors kept him from eating, drinking, using the toilet, and sleeping. His calm in spirit contrasted the fire inside my mother and I—infuriated that no lazy hospital bureaucracy would admit him, but only give him fluids. Useless fluids. My mother’s claws ejected once more—the mitochondria of my family. At last, he was admitted. My hatred for the hospital was founded inside the hospital itself. My father resided in a cramped white bed with too many veins stuck, too much skin exposed, and not enough care given. His permanent farmer’s tan was almost invisible, as there was no color showing through his rotten fruit skin. As much as I hated it for him, there was none who hated it more than he did. He kept his calm and brilliant composure with his ‘this too shall pass’ attitude. The days went by and his hatred and calm remained, while his attitude switched. Death was slinking in every corridor, making eye contact with everyone in room

My entire life I have always been the smallest person in the room. In elementary school, I was a four-foot-nothing, fifty-pound, blonde-haired, blue-eyed, pretty little wisp of a thing. My best friend, Michelle, was, in contrast, was a year older and nearly two heads taller than me, and outweighed me by at least once my own body weight. She also loved to wrestle and would take any opportunity to smash me in a wrestling match. These matches were friendly (if only in the sense that after they were over we would both stand up and go back to adoring each other) but nonetheless highly competitive. Looking back on it, she probably should have been able to kill me, but, try as she might, she never could - she didn’t even win more than half the time.

The sky melted from a clear blue to creamsicle orange and pinks to a dark, starry navy. I could see the sun’s transition really well inside the little glass diner I worked at, Cosmo’s. The ceiling and walls were constructed entirely of glass, and blue lights made up the floor, giving the small diner a cold, lonely feeling. The booths were silver with pastel blue cushions, the tables silver with shimmery blue tablecloths, pressed under glass. The bar table, that enveloped me, silver with blue lights underneath the glass top, accompanied by tall, blue faux leather bar stools.

This story is going to be about this one halloween and it was truly terrifying for me at least. This will take place when i was about nine years old and the year was 2014. It started out as every day and it was like any normal day and it was halloween and i had to go to school so here was this big party at the end of the day and we were going to have a 5 day weekend. So everybody was excited and it was party time there was a big school party then there was a classroom party. We were just waiting for recess so that the party would start cause they scheduled the party after recess and lunch. It was only twenty minutes after rescues and our teacher took 18 minutes to take us back inside.

Everything that has a beginning has an ending, never have I thought to myself that my ending would be losing the family I grew up with for over 20 years. The car accident which took all their lives will forever be encrypted in my memory until the day I take my last breath on this world. I warned my father it would be dangerous to take the entire family upstate in a van but he just yelled at me. That's something I never appreciated about my father, having a different opinion than him would just lead to him yelling at me and starting a massive argument. I called him a bastard and left him with the rest of the family. That was the last thing I said to my father, now I lie here, organizing the entirety of their funeral at my expense and leaving

Stop, stop, stop!! The kids are sleeping, please stop. “ I don’t care if the kids wake up you can’t do anything right, your worthless.”

My family has always taught me to be independent and stand on my own. Being a truck driver, my dad was always a loner. He liked being to himself on the open road. I remember the trips we used to go on together and how much fun it was being on the road. However, my mom didn’t like these long extended trips. She set off to be independent, and advised me to never depend on anybody for satisfaction. She always told me that I only needed to God to be fulfilled. My parents eventually grew apart, and left me with the understanding that I don’t need anyone else.

I was on the cusp of abandoning the window, as there was a dearth of any physical specimen worthy of speculation; however, I lacked the capacity to spark the thought of movement, as the space was occupied by what I’d just seen. I couldn’t help but run the previous scenario on a continuous loop about my mind in hopes of perhaps gathering some indication as to why it was significant, why it struck me as odd, or why I’ve ultimately deemed it worthy of such thought. Nevertheless, it appeared to be inevitable, and there I continued to stand, observing the Vance’s, and the rain that fell relentlessly to the earth.