Personal Narrative: She

I like to beat the rush for lines and do not prefer being late, but

Although my high school years are up, I am proud to say that my time there was well spent. Since my freshman year I have been an avid member of Trevor G. Browne high school and the community and tried my best to contribute and give back as much as possible. I am currently enrolled at ASU where I plan to further my education in psychology and medicine in order to go back to my community and help my people. During my high school years I commuted back and forth from the Tohono O’odham reservation to Phoenix Arizona. This was an utter culture shock but it made me realise where my small community at home, a small village called North Komelik in Sif Oidak District on the Tohono O’odham reservation, faults and it was my duty to be the change in order

I mended my body into the fabric of the hammock, curling my face into its warmth and accepting its embrace. Alex began swinging the one next to me before settling in. My legs rose up in the air, swaying around while I examined the old scars on them.

I was not an intentionally bigoted twelve-year-old. I was raised in an affluent suburban community where the vast majority of people are white. The 100% white private nursery school which I attended was chosen by my parents largely due to its proximity to our home. My public elementary school was about 70% white as it was populated with students who resided nearby. Finally, the private middle school which I attended, located almost an hour from my home, provided me with exposure to the most diverse student body of my youth as it was comprised of about 65% Caucasian children. What each of these formative academic experiences shared in common was both that their student bodies were disproportionately Caucasian, as well as that their senior administrators

It was a dark August, Monday morning in Saline, Michigan and it started with this.

I wake up to a red blaring light haunting my face. As I start to regain my vision, I see a contraption of some-sort, wires, buttons and the salience of the contraption, the display. The display is made of red digital lights and a steel frame. A stale 60 is written on the display. I look around the room and it's an eerie white colour, it's empty and bleak. I assume it's a white void, It leads to nowhere as the door must be seamlessly integrated into the wall. Then on the corner of my eye, I see a body. I assume it's a female as it's long silky blonde hair fills a fourth of the room. She's wearing a puffy grey jumper and black jeans with strands of fabric hanging out. From my angle, she looks dead, but I want to inspect her body. I creep towards it, realising this floor doesn't creak like home. I proceed cautiously. As I

It had been around 42 days. I had no way to know when the sun was rising or setting; I only had my sense of time. They came in every day and gave me a small loaf of bread, some sort of meat, and only enough water to wash down my food. It was not enough to give me strength only enough to keep me alive. I was not sure where I was or even how I got there. The only thing I knew was that I wished I could go back home to my loving family.

It’s a dark rainy day, Lilly sits in her new dorm, she’s ready for a fresh start, new school, new friends, and……. new roommate. Lilly is excited but super nervous to meet her new roommate, what if she’s mean, what if she’s annoying, or what if she’s an actor that plays a new character everyday!!? Lilly has her side of the room all set up, of course pink everywhere, sadly she can’t paint the whole room pink or she definitely would. Lilly falls asleep wondering when her roommate will get to the school, her mind is flooded with thoughts about the new school year and she feels her eyes get heavy as she drifts to sleep.

“Hah! BALDY!” He screeched. I was sure my head was gleaming like a street lamp as everyone chanted ‘Baldy’ to the moon and back. My chemo had left me as a nauseous, hairless, bag of bones, and my whole school situation hadn’t exactly gotten better either. My cheeks flushing, I shoved my hands in my sweatpants pockets and ran off. I would have started crying, but I really didn’t have any tears left. I had been crying for days. Weeks, even. Heck, I didn’t know how long. Could have been years, but I wouldn’t care. Nothing mattered anymore. I looked up to my apartment window, and my mom was waving me on encouragingly. Thanks the lord she didn’t shout out the window, or her thick Russian accent would surely provoke

She completed some of her course work the first hour while she was here. If she is here tomorrow, I think we need to make sure she does not have any course work to complete. If she is hanging around, I think we need to let her know that we have some facility work to do (we need to rearrange the site, have the locks changed, and clean the site thoroughly). That is a suggestion to get her out the building.

I rubbed my well rested eyes, crawled out from under my warm, cozy covers and stretched my replenished body. It was a sunny, Friday morning, and the air was thin. I walked into the living room: Our living room is your average sitting area, two couches and two chairs. I found my brother sitting on one of the two couches, looking pale and haggard. As I walked toward my brother, he seemed to be slightly apprehensive. I paused for an abrupt second and I suddenly felt as if I had entered a scene of one of Nicholas Sparks’ many tragic, heartfelt movies. I didn’t paused for long because tears started rolling down my cheeks. And now all I’m thinking is, he can’t be gone?

I barely slept, ate on the run, and by the time the week drew to a close, I had accumulated close to twenty thousand dollars due to perseverance, and resiliency. Also, with Tyche on my side, I was able to rent an economical two bedroom apartment with plenty of sunlight, four blocks from ‘Ink it Baby’, and secured a job waiting tables at Harry’s Diner, two blocks from my abode.

My head was racing a millions miles per minute while simultaneously having the sensation of not being able to move from my seat from shock. In that moment I thought she was speaking to someone else because there was no way she was speaking to me. I slowly look up and see this woman peering down at me with her beady eyes filled with hatred that I never have seen before. I asked her timidly “are you speaking to me?’. She laughed at me and mockingly said, “of course I am speaking to you, girls like you will never go anywhere, the only thing you will be good for is spreading your legs”. At first I thought I was imaging this because I was honestly confused. All I did was take out my notes in order to study for an exam with my friend and this woman attacks me unjustifiably while making assumptions about me because of the color of my skin.

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.

It’s all a blur really – the memories that is, some dreams and others reality. I hate that dreams seem so real, that they make everything that you truly want happen. Then, when you wake up, you still think it’s real because you felt everything in that dream and all its emotions. And in that moment, that blink of an eye you have to deal with the nagging in your brain telling you it’s not real. My memories consisted of misguided mistakes that made me who I am today. Like the day I got lost in the mall and hung out in the book store because it was quiet. And the days where my dad and me would sit in the living room and listen to music. My mom would always laugh at me and tell us how lame we were, but it was okay because we knew she was joking.