Personal Narrative: Searching For Meaning

Everyone have story in their life. Something like it's really painful that they don't want to share with anyone else and some do want to share because it feels relief when we share our pain to other people. In my life there is both happiness and sadness I've been through. I had read the book The bite of the mango. This book is pretty similar to my life. After I read this book I felt like it's not only me who's been through those situation. It’s beginning with sad, but at the end it’s pretty good. In my childhood, I had a close friend. We grew up together and were friend until we were 11. Since then I've never seen her again until now. Song by Wiz Khalifa- see

I was sprawled out on my old bed with a quilt partially wrapped around me. It was cold in the bedroom. I had taken mom’s diary out of my suitcase. Tears rolled down my cheeks, as I laid there flipping through the pages.

There were bad days and worse days, I don’t think any could constitute as “good”, but some were definitely better than others. Some nights I was only left with a small scratch, or a drunken slew of words meant to berate me. Others, I was beaten to within the last inch of my life. I became all too used to the feeling of the ground, cold, yet so familiar. The wood tensed with every movement, as if it was flinching, mirroring my own actions. I would lay there, salty tears merging with open cuts, and I wished he would follow through on his promises to kill me. That would be the first time he followed through on anything. But, it wasn’t his actions that hurt me so much as it was his lack of remorse. There were no apologies or meaningless condolences, nothing that shouted “I have an inkling of a conscience” . He was hurting me more often than not, and I was left to pick up my own broken

A morbid melancholy stole over me. Anxiety gnawed at my heart. I was a living corpse. There was a feeling of chill in the air every day as I felt. I faked illness so as not to go to school. Despair hangs heavy in the stifling air. It was a dreary day for me , cold and without sunshine. I dread people and always avoid people. The door was locked from the inside. A cold grey light crept under the curtains. The windows were secured with locks and bars. The room felt cold and sterile.The flowers faded for want of water. A single lamp was suspended from the ceiling. The clock ticked louder and louder in a quiet room. I regarded the room as a refuge from the outside

Probably out in the city of my dreams, light and stars, everything seemed to be perfect in my eyes. But the truth is, ashes are covered by people’s smiles, secrets, and sweet words. In the bright streets, souls are trying to find their purpose by running with fear and hope. Fear to find their path and to fail, to drown without achieving it. Yet, hope to find their real self that is bury underneath the world of deception. Hope in knowing that there are truths hidden in the

I feel like i've been in jail for almost a year now, but i know it's only been a few weeks. The walls in this room always feel so cold and wet. It’s so dark. No sunlight. I keep having replays in my mind of how everything happened. I can’t sleep. I can’t eat, nor do i want too. I haven’t seen or heard from anyone i know since i got arrested. If only she would have, ugh, we were supposed to be forever. She told me all the time. I have so much anger for her, still till this day. I should go back to the beginning, so whenever i'm gone and someone does find this they know the true story.

I remember the day just like it was yesterday, the pale color and coldness of her skin. The sky was clear blue, soft, with a touch of red, and the trees seemed stiff in their bright green shade. The wind was blowing with its humid dry air. And All I could do was stand silently in disbelief, caught up in my own thoughts and calm as I ever been. Wondering what I could have done differently to change the course of time, life had taken us upon. Since that very day a chunk of my heart was ripped away, and broken into pieces… “Oh how I miss her so much.”

I feel like there are many people who strive to adhere to a “live while you’re young” mentality, but once they reach a certain age, that lust for life fizzles out. Perhaps because life tends to beat so many down throughout the years, snatching away skyscraping hopes to replace with losses and disappointments, some older folks begin to resent the youth for all of their promise and dreamy ideals. I do not believe that it should be this way. Just because a person has seen many years go by in his or her lifetime, it does not mean that all of that person’s potential, ambition, and goal-oriented thinking should just evaporate. A number does not define you, for only how you use the wisdom of your years to pursue each day to the fullest does. Everyday is a new and valuable opportunity to go after what you want in life, especially since not everyone is lucky enough to wake up to meet the sunrise each morning. One must always remember that you only truly begin to age when you turn your back on all of the knowledge and possibilities

Each night’s the same restless,long,tossing,turning,screams...and nightmares.Every time i close my eyes i see it I see a day that will be burned into my head its what we survivors call the “The day the whole world went away”.I see the fire in the sky,the loud boom that split the clouds and the sound of hope bring ripped from this earth,it keeps me up and the only time i can put that beast to rest is to drink it to bed but that doesn’t even help all the time.I hate talking about it,hell the only reason i’m writing in this is because it makes me feel like i actually have someone to talk to in a world where no one can be trusted but yourself well for the most part anyway.I also do this to leave something behind

I know something is there but I see nothing, no one. The vivid memories and promises haunt me in my greyscale nightmares. But why me? I close my eyes and ask myself will I wake from these traumatic times or is this just the beginning. As I drift off into a bitter, lonesome sleep I’m numb to the pain. I feel you by my side, but how can such a heartless monster be so comforting. All the lies and broken promises seem so insignificant as I feel so empowered to the bursts of energy pumping through my body as you stroke my hair and you gently kiss my forehead and tell me no one else can determine your happiness, happiness comes from within; and before I get the chance to say I love you, you vanish with the handful of trust I had in you fading. I cry for help. I cry out for someone, anyone as I die in darkness. heartbroken and alone. I feel the end nearing and I clinch my fists and close my eyes as I prepare for the horrific impact of fatal depression and i exhale only to inhale a sense of security. Love, beauty, confidence, I feel it all. Not only do I feel serenity I feel you. You came back for me just like I hoped, yet that hope is the same thing that killed

Looking back I had known all along that underneath the glittering world, before my eyes lay my deception that everything was to collapse with a breath of the wind. I watch as he goes rigid, as if he took a huge step back from life where I want to be able to reach in and rekindle his warmth but his insides remain damp with unshed tears.

My day begins again with a drone of the same ringtone of the alarm. Getting up to open the window forgetting about the same old raven bird that stares at me with its whole black eyes sending you into a black spiral. The sense of nostalgia hits, rain leaves its own scent like the scent of an ex-lover’s. After all eternity doesn’t wait for the past to catch up, you just keep on going with your life as I have. Making my way to the kitchen I avoid all the papers on the floor scattered like a tornado threw up and shredded its life. My hands twitches to grab the phone eager to check for the ghost messages and calls. Putting down my arm as soons as it raises “don’t do it”. I turn in circles to find someone but in its leave was nothing. “ I know” I whispered to no one. The hallway was filled with darkness except for one room whose light was slowly dimming. Darting past the shadowed hands reaching for me I went into the room. Searching for that dark grey raincoat that was hung up on a hanger in the half empty closet.

She heads outside, the car keys bouncing. She needed help, she knew it. No amount of support groups or friends could take away her pain. She just wanted a simple cure, and nothing else seemed to be giving her that. The screams, flashing lights, and screeching brakes haunted her dreams. As she, with precise accuracy, pulled out of the driveway, she took a deep breath. Still, the thought lingered in the back of her head... Would it be so bad to just let go, fall into an abyss of sorrow, and welcome all of her pain? When she finally arrived at her destination, she kissed reality goodbye and stepped inside the building.

I grabbed his arm and pulled it to mine "And if you love me the way i love you you 'll stay here......" he shook his head and i felt him brush my hair from my face "Tk.........let me go..." it wasn 't an angry let me go it was I 'm sorry but you have let me go "No... If you want to go take me with you." im crazy i thought as i looked up at him. More tears fell from his face. He cried beautifully without the ugly puffed lips and blotchy skin but just tears. Glassy eyes with tears of fire and ice it seemed the way the light hit them. Tears that fell onto his skin, perfectly tan and strangely nice against the almost redness of his hair. I hated to think so but he was amazing in the dull 4am light. The moon hit his face just enough to make him look like artwork. Art that somehow is beautiful but also makes you think. He took my arm and rolled up my sleeve. " Look at you......" he traced the endless scars on my arm, not all self inflicted but all with a reason,all with a meaning. I wiped my eyes even though no tears were there. "Scars and cigarette burns......just another page in my story." he pulled off his hoodie and i saw his arms. Burn marks. "From the fire...most of them....." he breathed, painfully. "From the past." i traced a few of the scars on my arms with his finger. "From my father and other horrible people." i traced more scars and shivered as i did. I traced the long scar from rist to elbow and felt him quake. "From me." i traced the last scars remaining. "And thats

You’re the best and worst thing to ever happen to me and I can’t decide if I wish I never met you, or if I want to meet you all over again. In a dream I had once we sat on a couch overlooking the city. I said, “I’m scared of this whole thing breaking,” and you looked at me with those eyes that hold forests in them and said, “I have control, don’t worry,” and I said, “I’m falling,” and you said, “I’ll catch you. I’m ready.” I want to hand all of my fears over to you in your fingers so you can break them to pieces. The first time you looked directly at me, I forgot how to breathe. It was a good thing. Out here in the real world, it is raining and you’re not around to taste it. . I want to sign over my soul and body. Out here in the real world, you’d drop me. I want to tell you all my secrets. I want to tell you all my stories. I want to tell you I’m falling. Someone once told me ‘if you keep loving so much you’ll spend your entire life digging yourself out of the heart cavities of people who do not love you in the same way.’ And then, I couldn’t tell them that we talk about losing naïveté like shedding weight as though it’s the best thing that could happen to us and nobody told me that it’s okay to fall headfirst into people and if they move out the way, well it’s okay to collide with the floor too. Everyone talked about loving carefully, like it’s picking your way through a dark field at night and no one told me that loving is not dangerous or shy but grabbing fistfuls of