Personal Narrative: Personal Essay

I was ten, the most terrifying event I had been through was riding the little dragon roller coaster at the fair, but that night changed it all. The fear that started in my head spread like wildfire to the rest of my body from the tips of my fingers to the bottoms of my toes. My heart was racing so fast that it could have beat Usain Bolt in a 100m dash. Stop, drop and roll, three steps that should have come naturally, but instead I froze, looked down at my yellow and black checkered flannel in complete terror, fearing for my life.

I had always assumed that my legs were strong and that I had decent muscle control, however, this thought was proven wrong at the beginning of my junior year in high school due to a detrimental injury. It was the first game of fall league for basketball, and within the first five minutes I had succumbed to an injury. Tearing my ACL and Meniscus has taught me to continue improving on my strength, not let this one injury keep me down, and to keep a positive mindset.

A cliché way to start a personal essay on why someone would want to go to into medicine would go along the lines of “As I stare towards the future with a decision to make, I look at my own personal experiences and the experiences of those around me for guidance.” Afterward, they would premise their argument by talking about at how they look at medicine as an exciting career option because it is a field perpetually at the cutting edge of discovery, continuously opening newer vistas of human thinking, and knowledge. They then would conclude their argument by talking about how the fulfillment provided in healing physical, and psychological wounds, scars, and bruises go beyond the satisfaction produced elsewhere. While this is all good and true

In life do we see that everyone else is wrong or do we not want to admit that we are wrong? In my eyes I don't want to admit that I am wrong because I don't want to seem stupid. I ran into a situation last night during soccer practice that I want to understand where the other people are coming from. In this situation people are saying that a group of us Seniors on the soccer team are favorites and in my eyes I don't see that at all.

Plav, Montenegro is a small, poor village in Europe. It is the place where my parents were born and raised. Even though I was born in Brooklyn, New York, I feel I was raised in Plav, Montenegro, too. Growing up in America, where the culture and traditions are so different from that of Montenegro, I was faced with the obstacle of trying to become part of mainstream America while maintaining my own culture.

“Trick or treat!” I say, nearly breathless. The pencils in my hair are slipping, my bathrobe is stifling, and we’re running out of time. “We’re with the Key Club, and we’re trick or treating for canned goods to donate to the food pantry. Do you have anything that you’d be willing to donate?”

Loss: the fact or process of losing something or someone. Loss goes far more than death. One can lose themselves, lose another person, or just plain lose money. Loss is inevitable and I believe losing yourself is something we will all go through at some point in our lives.

I was in second grade and excited to begin the new school year. When I tried to greet two new students, both large boys, they stared at me and burst into sarcastic, menacing laughter, taunting me with the derogatory term “chocolate boy.” As the days went by, other students took up this taunting and then it moved to physical intimidation. I had a clear sense that danger was imminent, and I began to feel a terrible sense of vulnerability. It was at this point that I decided, after my parents’ suggestion, to learn some method of self-defense.

1. Two year ago, my friend found out he got cancer and could die in a few months. It was a big shock for all of us because we all thought he would be okay after a surgeon cut the normal hyperplasia in his neck a couple months ago. In his birthday, we asked him what he wished. He said that he used to want to be a doctor, but in that time, he just wanted to be a normal person who could go to school in the morning and play games at night. Therefore, my friends and I helped him out. We took turn to tutor for him and sometimes in the weekend we came to his house to play game together. From that moment, I understood him and this life more and more. It wasn’t easy time for him and for me too. We together went through our difficult teenage. He used to be fear to die. I used to hate God and this unfair life because it took my friend away. However, after day by day we spend time together, he help me Ito realize that our lives didn’t count by days we live, but by memory we did together. That was me who waste too much time for myself. Then, when I had no more time with my friend, I tried to blame to God. I was so apology. I didn’t help him, but he helped me to realize the

Walking on the street on a cloudy day I decided to go to a coffee shop. I was talking to a friend and noticed someone awfully familiar. When I tried to identify, him he walked out and I rubbed it off as not important. Then I noticed he left his wallet on his table. I dashed out the door to look for him, he was nowhere to be found. I started to wonder will I ever be able to give his wallet back?

It was a misty morning right above the ocean’s surface. My brother’s head, along with seven others, was bobbing in the waves and obscured by the morning haze. The sun had just broken the horizon and emitted its luminous rays of scarlet red, orange, and pink underneath the clouds. Beyond the clouds was the sky, an endless pool of blue. I felt like I had jumped into a picture of a brochure. Subsequently, reality came back to me and I no longer felt pleasant emotions from the scenery.

Anger comes from many places. Throughout my past, my main critical adversary was competitive sports, baseball to be specific. In my final baseball game I learned many things about myself. There were two strikes on me in the first inning and I swung and missed on the final pitch. From that one swing I dove into a two year slump from which anger controlled my life. Accordingly, I was at a crossroad, and had a decision to make!

Most children look up to their guardians/parent with respect and trust. A parent should protect and nurture their child so they thrive in the “real world”. As a parent, you should not spoon feed your child forever and you shouldn't ignore them, but you should find the happy medium so that he/she can fight through some adversity. As a teenager, many people grow apart from their parents because they think they know everything. This personal narrative is about a time I thought I was too good for my parents.

It was a late September afternoon in Omaha. The leaves had just started turning burnt orange, red, and yellow. My younger brother and I headed down a winding hill home, after I finished my safety patrol duties. When we got home I had made us peanut butter and strawberry sandwiches on wheat bread. After our little snack we convinced our parents to let us go to a friends house, which was down the street. They finally agreed and gave us a time to be home. My brother and I walked out the front door. We headed to the end of the block to the crosswalk. When we approached the red, bumpy mat that connected with the concrete at the crosswalk, I held my brother’s hand. My brother being six years younger than me was scared to cross the street alone, so I was the big sister that helped him.

“Help, someone help me! You can’t take me I have kids to take care of!” I peek out of my kitchen window into the barren town and see another jewish man being abducted from his home by a group of nazis. The past few days have been filled with screams and terror ever since our town has been invaded. It will only be a few more days, possibly even hours, before the inevitable occurs and our whole family is ripped away from each other. As not only fear, but anger seeps into my veins, I walk into the small, dark living room and gather on the grey worn out carpet by the fireplace. Next to me are my two brothers and my parents. My parents are whispering about plans to continue making money since my father had to close down his delicatessen because of the fact that jews are no longer allowed to sell. My brothers Isaac, Mendel and I keep asking questions about what is going to happen with us and our home. My father continues to tell us not to worry but I can see the fear in his eyes every time we hear a noise outside.