Personal Narrative : Personal Experiences

Put the gun down! Put the gun down! Pow Pow Pow. The gun shots cracked into the air as loud as thunder. One after another. We live day by day not knowing our end. In the blink of an eye our lives can be changed forever. Its life, yet even in knowing this we never expect tragedy to find us. We never expect it to affect our lives and the people we know and love. I’m going to share with you the day tragedy found my life.

People often think of language as a connector, something that brings people together by helping them share experiences, feelings, ideas, etc. We, however, are interested in how language sets people apart. Start with the peculiarities of your own personal language—the voice you use when speaking most intimately to yourself, the vocabulary that spills out when you're startled, or special phrases and gestures that no one else seems to use or even understand—and tell us how your language makes you unique. You may want to think about subtle riffs or idiosyncrasies based on cadence, rhythm, rhyme, or (mis)pronunciation.

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.

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

Divorce. A shaping tool that impacts the child’s future immensely. With no additional income source, my fresh off the boat mother had to work constantly to keep the bowls filled with rice. However as a direct result, I would have to take care of myself as my mother was rarely at home. My strict mother would never let me outside so I filled my time with video games. Alone with my video games, no one can question my actions or behavior. With only a mother as a role model, I develop a feminine personally. I thought I was just a normal boy, and growing up with this mentality became problematic. Combined with my mentality and higher pitch voice, people would make fun of me and never took me seriously. I never understood why causing me to stay in

I am not one to pick up hitchhikers, it’s just not safe, everyone knows that but for some

This is the opportunity for you to tell us more about yourself, your readiness for college, and your activities and accomplishments. Explain any personal experience, responsibilities, or challenges that have impacted you or your academic achievements.

Stockton is my home away from home. Ever since my first undergraduate open house experience I have felt a sense of belonging on this campus. In truth, I chose to enroll at Stockton because of their engaging curriculum and hospitality. However, I stayed at Stockton because of the faculty and staff members treated me like family, not just another nameless student. During my freshman year, I took a theater class as an elective, and that decision changed my life. Mrs. Hendrick encouraged me to embrace my culture and uniqueness; she made me look forward coming and staying at Stockton every day. Every year I witnessed Stockton’s benevolence to students, veterans, and the community. When Stockton changed its status to a university, I felt inspired to also be like an osprey and soar to new heights. Over the past five years, Stockton has not only nurtured me with knowledge, but challenged me to be a productive individual.

Some of the hardest things in life make you realize what you really appreciate. One such instance took place in a remote part of Wyoming far away from everything and everyone. However, such an experience made one couple closer and taught them how valuable family really is.

Time passed as I remained in that kitchen chair. Until the doorbell broke me out of my continuous, horrific train of thoughts, that is.

The universe sometimes chuckles at people who make plans. Not many teenagers expect relocation during high school, particularly to start off their senior year. I was one of those teens that should have. I always enjoyed my sheltered existence in a protective bubble in a place that I had lived in my entire life. The universe not only chuckled at me and my plans, it laughed. And laughed. And laughed.

A horrendous thing that happened to me was the time when I broke my foot. The positive side of that is that I learned my lesson. I was at my grandparents house about 3 years ago, and my little cousins and I were playing tag. I then leaped off 2 steps and landed on the rocks that were a few feet from the stairs. My foot started hurting horribly and my parents came to check on me. I limped all the way to the couch and had to put ice on it. We then left and I went straight home my parents did not think that it was broken or sprained. For the next 3 weeks I had went and was running and jumping on it my foot hurt continuously, especially when I had to run the 3 miles. So finally, my parents brought me to the hospital and the doctors gave me an

he first thing I did when I was first placed into my mom’s arm was wink. It was the most peculiar thing ever. She and my dad were both confused, thinking about what that wink would symbolize. Little did they know they had a daughter who would continue to stimulate their brains and logic. I was always an outgoing, awkward child. I was also very conscious of expensive things. I, as a “mature” 3 year old, once told my brother, “Anna (that’s Telugu for older brother), be careful! Is epensive( expensive on three year old speak)!” Every where I would go, I would say hello to every person that crossed my path; if a person didn't respond, I would pester them to the point that a response seemed like their only savior.

It was a bitter autumn day in upper town New York and on top of Times Tower, perched a girl her long auburn hair was dancing like the shadows of trees in the dusk of a windy day. She sat inhaling the thick, grey smoke from her cigarette, tears rolling down her cheeks. Her thick black eyeliner was smudged, but even that could not disguise the wisdom she hid behind her eyes. Deep in the pockets of her long, black trench coat her phone started to ring. She snatched out the phone, glanced at the screen and groaned. She knew it would be the same call she had received every school day at 6:30, for the past 10 months.

What makes a person who they are? The way they dress? Their family? Friends? Attitude? To me, what really makes a person who they are, is their experiences. Their hardships, triumphs, what makes them happy, what devastates them. We all are human beings and are made so similar. With sharing so many things in common, we are all such different people. Everything we have all gone through, shapes us into who we are today; Why we are the way we are.