Personal Narrative: Smoke On The Horizon Of Life

Walking away from everything you once knew and starting over is never a picnic. Leaving Iraq, and moving to America has impacted my life more than anything. I was only 4 years old at that time, and the only English I spoke was “excuse me, water please.” My family and I did not know it then, but our lives were going to change; we would become “Americanized”. Learning English was one of the massive changes that occurred, the way I dressed (culture), and even the way I had power to go to school and educate myself.

This past year, I have been apart of Naperville Central’s brand new Special Spaces club. When my friend approached me and asked me to join, I agreed even though I had no clue what I was involving myself in. In retrospective, I can honestly say that becoming a part of Special Spaces has been one of the most meaningful, fun, and fulfilling experiences I have had in high school.

This little scene was written as a response to a fanfic meme where NN wished for a scene with the Master, River Song and spanking and FF River Song and something kinky. In effect this is a missing scene from Sliding Down the Razorblades of Life and follows directly after the second chapter, Mid-Term. However, you don’t have to read the fic, just keep in mind that the Master has just told River that if she slaps him one more time she will get a good spanking. Guess what her response to that is?

I think that my family realized that I had crossed the threshold between childhoods when I began to form my own opinions. This first took hold when I took part in poverty stimulation at my local shelter. I was giving a character and a story behind the card I was given; the story made me become emotionally attached to this name I had been assigned and the family in which I came from. The experience made me question the prejudice of the society I was living in. How many times had I avoided eye contact with the people on the side of the road begging for money? I began a long journey of soul searching and questioning the beliefs my parents had raised me on. My thoughts were continually brought back to a book by C.S Lewis, it was called Out of the Silent Planet; a character named Weston believed that individual human lives don’t matter, they must be sacrificed to save mankind.

Please, oh please let the words come. I sit, and stare, and type, and I backspace. No one will like it. My work is crap. Crap, crap, crap. I crumple my paper watch it fall. The clock taunts with its ticking reminding me of all I want to forget. It creates a beat; a song. Poetic chords and dismal notes ring in my ears. But no, this is thought I should avoid. I am great- better than great. People will love this. Oh please, please, please let them love this. Will my legacy amount to nothing more than abysmal hope? This is the last time I think of it. Oh please don’t let me think of it. The blank page stares at me and I begin to write. One word, then another, then another, and another. You will never know what comes out onto the page until it is

Well this year was a hell of a year. I mean, i didn't pass any of the semesters but i did observe a ton of stuff that went on in the class. The class in general was pretty lit. Every day went by and i honestly did some work. The class was ready to learn as mrs g was ready to teach. I mean yea we had some days were we didn't want to learn anything and there were also days when mrs g didn't want to teach. But ima be honest, doing the work we did wasn't in my best interest. Most of the projects we did in class i worked on, but at the end i didn't end up liking how i did it so i wouldn't even bother turning anything in. like the obituary we had to write about ourselves. I liked the meaning behind this but honestly i didn't want to work on that because it just brought back memories of my friends that were killed.

Six consecutive second place, Science Fair trophies sit in the deepest, darkest, most isolated place in my house... my closet. Upon entering the closet, I’m automatically overwhelmed with a horrifying stench, a mixture of plastic, metal, and disappointment, also known as second place. Once the scent enters the nasal cavity, it immediately calls war upon the cerebellum, attacking strongly and injuring the motor cortex, thus creating a chill to run through my body, leaving me powerless and without words. After the chill, next follows the noise. Mockingly congratulates me, whispering “great job, you almost had it,” oh the humanity; “second place” repeatedly echoes in my ear until I escape the closet.

I sat there with my legs crossed for hours. The tingly numbness rose up from my toes to the top of my spine. Hours of nothingness. Hours of staring at a blank sheet of paper. Hours of complete and utter silence. Then, it began. My pencil, which was previously silent, began to speak. The shapes flowed out no real meaning. No sense just movement. I began to move my pencil with brisk movements. Soft and then brisk once more. Switching the colors once, twice, and then again. Shading, blending, redrawing, and repeat. Over and over again as the colors flowed out and told me something that I wasn't expecting, completion.

Our story begins as I am picked up from GMB. Keep in mind that in order to be hired by them you need to be in physical shape and no disabilities of any kind. So you're basically their toy. For example an assassination of someone very important.You are used to do their dirty work and in return you get nothing. Alright so as soon as I step out of my house i'm rushed by men in black suits. I am already well aware that it was GMB coming at me so as I am a highly trained for situation like this I fought back hoping I would make it out alive but as i'm thinking this I get hit in the back of the head and i'm out.

I put on my shoes, grab my surfboard, and jump in the car. It was still very early in the morning the sun was still behind the clouds and the wind made me shiver from the cold. Ryan was driving the car, Jesse and Jen were sitting behind us, the music was playing loud in the car almost making my ears hurt. I was a bit nervous but excited at the same time, I feel so much better and I think that I am ready to go into the deep water again. Ryan breaks the silence by making a joke "how do people surfing say HI to each other? he answers saying "they Wave!." Even though the joke is not even funny we still laugh and Jesse yells in excitement "here we come blue lagoon beach." After a two hour drive, we finally arrive at our destination the sun is finally rising and the cold air is becoming warm. Jen sees that I am nervous "are you alright you don't

My first snowboarding lesson, some 10 years ago, saw me clinging to my snowboarding instructor on a Remarkables bunny hill, sinking my nails into his jacket sleeves as if he was trying to escape. His parting words to me are still memorable to this day. “You are not cut out for this, you have no confidence, and you are too scared”. That was it for me. I refused to accept that and if they weren’t going to help me learn, I would figure it out for myself. I was determined.

Life is different in driving.Sitting in the passenger seat is completely different POV then when driving. When being the driver it is worrying. Every time you drive, you are putting your life at risk and the other drivers around you.

Something Out of Nothing…. I always thought that something was missing in my life, especially in my youth. However, I would never take the time to find out what it was. I guess you could say that I was distracted by outside opinions which I allowed to root inside me. As a child, my self-esteem was basically none existent and I stuttered badly. I can remember being laughed at in class when being called on to read and even seeing the teacher holding back her laughter. The thing that hurt the most was when the teacher told me that I wasn’t going to amount to much when I grow up. Not knowing at that time how to use to those words as fuel to push me to prove her wrong, instead I allowed it to hinder me and to fester in my mind. I was enrolled in remedial classes

From our driveway I could see the wispy smoke rising from just two houses up the street. As we pulled out of our driveway and into the driveway of the smoking house, I could see my grandfather hunched over the grill. The car door opened and the smell of smoke and marinade filled the air. I wait in line behind my family to hug him even though I thought the birthday girl got to go first. He greeted me with a warm smile and a sweet “Happy Birthday.”

Throughout my life i have realised that what i believe in isn't so much that humans are capable of many great things, but more so that they can be incredibly heartless people and aren't always who they seem. This also goes along with my other belief that life is unforgiving and that no matter what you think or hope for, you can't change what happens. You can only change how you react to it. It's been a long journey to come to this realisation. But it was worth every step of the way.