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

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.

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.

I woke up. Feeling groggy, I went to take my pills. Being the way my brain was, I needed pills to function. I see things, but others don’t see them. These things, they are right in front of my face, but they are not visible to other people. I could not find my pills, I looked everywhere, even in my drug stash. They were not there. Wait, I sold them to Angelo. Well, remembering this, I need to go to the drug store.

My mother had quiet a lot of brothers and sisters, there was nine in all.. Mother said most of her brothers and sisters married out of their parents house in Sampson City, moving into one of the houses owned by a man named Mr. Hogan, In these days the houses were called quarters, which consisted of one or two bed rooms and a kitchen all sat in a row. The families living in those little houses worked for Mr. Hogan who was the BOSS MAN. All the men worked at the Turpentine steel, that was owned by Mr. Hogan. They paid no rent and received a very small salary for their labor. Sundays after church was the relaxing time. We would visit with family and friends. In that time we did not own cars in that time, we did not have to go out in shop. The

I go to the woods to calm down ,take a break from the drama. My dad used to take me to this special spot where these rocks split and you can stem to the top of them and sit down. For some reason the view and the feel is so peaceful. There's a dip in the rock perfect size for my body. I'll kick back and look up at the sky and sometimes, it’s rare though i’ll listen to music and sometimes fall asleep and when I wake up i'm refreshed and calm. Sometimes i'll stay there after i'm calm and just chill and sometimes if a friend comes over well sometimes go over there and we'll play around on the rocks and talk and after a little bit of hanging out we will go back inside and play my PS4 for a little bit and after the gaming we are still bored we

I hear noises coming from my room, I walk upstairs and see that the door is closed, I peer in, “I don’t know where Donnie is my lord”, Sarah talks into a silver flip up transmitter, “find him, I need him alive” Bob says angrily. I shut the door, but it made a loud sound, Sarah looks over and thinks, oh no, my cover is blown. I walk out to the backyard and stand facing the back fence looking out onto the ocean, thinking how did I miss that she is a cleaner? A few minutes later Sarah comes out and stands next to me, “you had me going when you told me about your dream yesterday” I said, “How can I trust you now?” I continue. “Yes it’s true, I am a cleaner” she admits, “I was going to tell you, I swear Donnie”, “when? Right before you kill me” I asked. “The truth is, I don’t want to be a cleaner anymore, I hate it” she starts to tear up, “and then I met you, and thought my life could be different”, “and I’m supposed to believe that?” I asked, “yes” she answers, I look deep into her eyes and see no trace that she is lying “yes it’s true I was supposed to bring you back to Og to be killed, but I fell in love with you the moment I say you”.

Like the beginning of every good soap opera, everything was normal in the beginning. I lived with my mom and it had just been us for my entire life. My mom had began to see a man. As it turns out, this man would take our happy and simple world and flip it upside down.

Hearing the sounds of people breaking in half a wooden slab with their feet and cries being shouted out, I hesitantly entered the Dojo, placing my sandals in a cabinet. Dreading the smell of feet and sweat I didn’t enjoy coming. Not only was the smell bad but the physicality that was required was discomforting. The hits that my back and ribs received from missed side-kicks and jabs was unbearable.

I wake up at 5:30, five days a week, and each time I try to cram in five extra minutes, I end up having a late start to my day.

It seemed as if we had only been at school for about an hour before it was time for

I violently shiver as I stand near the stop sign, awaiting my morning bus. My stomach, which had been growling furiously since the afternoon before, is now quiet underneath the layers of jumpers I am casually wearing in sunny, 65 degree weather. Fingers trembling, I plug in the food I plan to eat later on in the day into my calorie counter app, my breath hitching as I realize that today is the start of a new life- a life towards recovery.

It was a cold autumn morning when I heard the news coming from my alarm clock radio. Two people had won the lottery winnings from yesterday's drawing. They get to split a great prize, both people got to take home over 3 million dollars. I have been playing the lottery for about ten years now, I have only won three or four thousand, hoping to hit it big. For eight years I have been cleaning and cooking in a half kitchen with dinette. The small apartment had that smell as if something had been wet and moldy. I have had to listen through paper thin walls of, shouting, fighting, and the occasional grunts from some dirty old man upstairs. The constant running trains echo inside the entire apartment building. The living room was just big enough for

The bright white screen fills the room as I hold the remote up to the TV. I flick continuously through the channels, hoping something will take my fancy. I pause on a breaking news story. The voice of a woman fills the air as she explains. ‘A runaway escapee and murderer last seen heading towards the South end of Australia has disappeared. Anyone in the areas of’, I reach for the off button as the mumbles of voices drown out as the TV turns off. I put the remote down and shut my eyes. The dark patterns and swirls fill the darkness as I fill my mind with the endless possibilities from some of the deepest parts of my mind. I replay the series of my day over and over in my head. Replacing the mistakes in the day and presenting myself with what