Personal Narrative: Psychology

My dad, for as long as I can remember, has always been a big part of my life. All throughout middle and high school we would have heart to heart conversations just father and son. I can remember the warmth of the fire, the taste of tea on the tip of my tongue, a cool midnight breeze blowing in carrying the scent of grass and fresh rain, my dad sitting across the room telling me about the different projects he was working on, and regaling me with advice to help in everyday life. One night, he told me something that would change my life forever: that all the different clubs, hobbies, and sports that I do are connected to each other in some way, and how each skill I gain from each of these different activities can be filed away to use in a later

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.

Everyone has a fear, even me. Specifically I fear the past will change both me and my future. Your question might be what’s your past? That is my story to tell you. Should something like this ever happen to you, I know how you feel, and you know the same for me. In Sheridan, Wyoming I was a nine year old and I thought nothing would change my future. That’s when it came. The hidden truth. I wish someone would tell me the truth. No lies and no hidden truths. I mean I’m older now just tell me the truth of the past. I know now the past had changed, and why it changed.

Prompt 6: My favorite academic subject by far is psychology. I’ve always been intrigued by why people do what they do and once I started watching the TV show criminal minds, my interest sparked in psychology. The way they profile people and really give an understanding of human actions makes my brain wander off. So that inspired me to take regular psychology last year and take AP-Psychology this year. My first year in psychology really caught my eye because the material was relatable and the work was challenging. We wrote essays, had class discussions, and worked on public speaking. Participating in all of these helpful assignments has made me realize I love a good challenge and that public speaking is easy for me. So far in AP-Psychology,

“You can have it if you want,” my father said, pointing to the Playboy magazine on his desk. His index finger interrupted my line of vision, and my eyes shot up to make contact with his.

A rainy Saturday filled with a bit of cleaning, a lot of work and a constant rain, the hubs and I found ourselves with a hankering for burgers. Of course downtown has options, but we also wanted to get home just in case the downpour decided to continue. One never knows in Michigan after all.

The sun was shining and Bianca was going through her family memory book, as she flipped and turned the pages of the memory book all the memories of her dad came flooding in. Bianca loved her dad, that was until he left her without saying anything, no “goodbyes”, no explanation, and no apologies he just walked out of her life just like that! Ever since then Bianca found it difficult to let other people into her life. Holding back tears Bianca put the memory book back on the shelf quietly, she then went outside to go take a walk and clear her mind. Going outside was not working in Bianca's favor, every corner she turned Bianca would see kids playing with their father and laughing, Bianca could feel her cheeks burning as the tears rolling

One try. Straight to voicemail. So far. it had been a day since she heard from him. A

I look around the dark room, watching my allies. One sharpening one of his swords, another punching a bag of sand. And another boy in the window looking down over the city. I sit in the corner, just watching them. All I can think is, how did I become a fugitive of the entire country? I stand up and wander to the door.

A frightened person can be easily identified by many traits. Their hands may shake, sometimes scream Bloody Mary, this is how us people usually react when scared. What amazes me of this philosophy of human emotion is that some people consider the feeling of getting scared is quite enjoyable. It is a very mainstream topic, in fact, we create literature, jokes, and experiences that support this resolution in many ways. If you put reasonable thought into it, the idea doesn’t exactly make sense when the mind requires a calm and healthy lifestyle for it to develop and grow.

I didn’t really know him very well but he was still my dad. I feel like I should feel bad for him or be crying but I’m not, not at all. He was killed at about midnight. The murder stole some important papers about my mom. I never knew her and my dad never talked about her, she died in a car accident when I was still very young. That was why I wanted those papers back. My dad never showed me any pictures but I knew that all kinds of things where on those papers. The police figured that my dad startled the thief and as a result my dad was now dead. Now I’m moved into my aunt’s house until they can find another place for me. I’m not alone though, my maid got to come with me. It is a relief to have something of my old life with me. I have a feeling

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

Wake up, get to school, go home, repeat. Wake up, get to school, go home, repeat. Wake up, get to school, go home, repeat.

Teaching school is always an adventure. One of my favorite quotes comes from Phil Collins, “In learning you will teach, and in teaching you will learn.” Twice this past week this quote applied to me.

Bicycle tires lifted dirt from the narrow path, filling the Scandinavian landscape with dust. As I swallowed the thick air, fragments of the earth entered my windpipe. I forced a dramatic cough, as though I was a movie extra overdoing my role as Choking Girl. It was the summer of 2007 and at the ripe age of ten years, my toothy grin and chicken legs were lugged across Denmark on a bicycle trip by my bickering immediate family, sheltered cousins, and nonconformist aunt. After yet another lengthy day of riding, a portrait of my rear was indented into the leather covering of my seat, and vice versa. After crossing paths with enough countryside sheep to make Polyphemus envious, the time had finally come to find our campsite. Instead, we found