Personal Narrative: Something About Him

"I fell in love with the way you fall asleep: slowly, and then all at once.", "I fell in love with the way you touched without using your hands."; these were just some of the quotes that I read, and connected when I thought about him. I didn't want to admit it, I waved it all off as a crush, puppy love, and it's just teenage hormones. The reality was I was falling for him with every passing moment. This feeling is so peculiar; it stretches throughout my whole body. It's inundating, yet makes me feel complete. It feels as though I'm in a dangerous fire, yet I'm completely safe at the same time. It feels as though someone's given me tranquility. It feels as though my heart is dancing around my chest; and a hole, I never knew was there, has been filled. I feel so light like I'm on top of the world yet my heart is constricting and it feels as if there's no oxygen in my lungs. When we made eye contact in the halls it seemed as if everyone else stopped and for a few moments in time it was just us. If only that were true.

The sparks fly in the air, there are marshmallows in your hair, and you’re with your favorite people in the world. This is called the best place on earth, for me at least. I enjoy camping so very much, you meet new people, experience different things, make new memories, and have a blast. You also see new sights, smell some things, and always wake up to the birds singing and not the bustling streets of the city. Camping is my go to activity.

School was letting out for summer and there was pure excitement in the air, or at least that’s what I thought. I was 15 years old and I had a huge summer in store since I got my first car and I could drive anywhere I wanted. I always had a great relationship with my grandfather ‘Pop’ and since he lived in town we did a lot of stuff together. He was 79 years old, but you couldn’t tell it because of his energy and health. I knew ‘Pop’ had been sick but I never thought twice about it, because he had always been really healthy. Being the young stupid kid I was I never went to check on him because it was summer and I would hate to miss out on something with my friends. That was my immature mindset, which made me feel very lonely for the majority

My body was shivering with fright my mind had so many questions. The weird thing is that I smelt was something that smells familiar, but I forgot what it was. One thing that I was sure of is that I was moving in car and my feet and arms were strapped down to the seat and my eyes were blinded by a bright light in my eyes. I had a lot a of question in my brain like where am I, have I been kidnapped, and is my family ok. Then I here my father calling me “Zeke, Zeke, Zeke where are you. Then suddenly I can finally see I open my eyes and see Stanley Park it was breath taking it was like seeing the northern lights. My dad finally untied me from the seat I shook my head because there was so much fog I could barley see anything I thought I had brain

When I woke up, I hardly remembered where I was. But then, as I looked over to the door to see Alex, I remembered. She opened the door and held the rope out to me so that she could hook it onto the thing around my neck. I stood up from my bed, stretched, shook my fur out and walked over to her. She hooked the rope onto me and we walked back through the hallway. She took me out the back door that I came in through and we walked further towards the back of the building. By this point, I realized how much water I drank and how bad I needed to go. Alex must have known that because we got closer and closer to a big open field surrounded by trees, bushes, and a small fence. We walked through a gate on the fence and she bent down to my level. She

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.

It's been months of not hearing word of my boyfriend, I don't know if he's alright or not. Last time I’ve heard about him was when the army mailed us the incident on one of his missions and they can’t find his team. That was four months ago when we heard from his family and the army commander. People started giving up if he’s alive or not…. but I know that he is alive, and he will come home.

I've never had to write a personal narrative before. Nor do I like to. Personally, I've always just tried to forget a lot that goes on around me. I hate diary entries and journaling. The closest I've come to any of it is writing poems. They were never any good though. Mostly talking about teenage angst or what I think the color green would taste like. But some of them were like stories. Stories about my friends, and about dreams.

Often times I find myself getting lost in my thoughts. They swirl around like a tornado in my mind- consuming me, destroying me. My mom always said that she envied me for that and I would do great things if I tried. At the time, I scoffed and rolled my eyes, but now I wish she would tell me sappy things like that.(MM) My heart aches for another one of her warm hugs. Now, all I have left are the pitying looks from teachers and the whispers behind my back from the other kids.

It’s almost like a fuzzy dream, it’s a clear blue afternoon and I’m riding in the back of an old pick up, through the golden hills of my hometown and looking up at my aunt who smiles down at me. Although, I don’t remember most of my childhood, this is a memory that makes it through the haze just enough to recall, that afternoon with one of my favorite people in the world, my Aunt Lisa.

When I first saw one, I was scared, dumbfounded, I could not act or move because of the shock. Never seen before, until today. A “white” man standing right in front of us. All I could think was, “What is he?” “Is he going to kill us?” “Where did he come from?” “What is he going to do to us?” I was shocked. I tried to move, but my legs wouldn’t budge, they were stuck or something. Our chief came forth, he tried to talk to him using sign language, and somehow I was relieved. My mind could now think straight. Then I started to think, if I we get him to be or ally, and make him live with us, then we could use him as sacrifice. So I told the chief and some other friends, to just “go with it”, and as soon as he gets confident, we sacrifice him to

I had a painful childhood. So much time has passed that I guess I forgot just how painful it actually was. I was raped by a family member in the basement of my own house when I was seven years old. Not only did that take away my feeling of safety but my spirit as well. I kept this secret for many years and coped with it by self-harming, which started when I turned 11. When I turned 14, I went on stage during a church service and spoke about what had happened. Although it tore my parent’s souls apart to hear what had happened to me, we never spoke of it after that day. Two days after Christmas my father found me overdosed on sleeping medication. I was rushed to Fairfax Hospital and after I recovered from my injuries I was transferred to Dominion

Some nights when sleep is evading me, I lay in bed I think about my past. I often dwell on little things and exaggerate the stories in which they happened; however, a single instance captures my attention. Feelings of disappointment and regret drown my thoughts every time this painful memory comes to mind, and my life has been greatly altered because of it.

“Life isn’t all cupcakes and sprinkles’….this sentence stuck with me until now, it made me remember why I don’t see the world as I used to. My mother had told me this simple sentence when I was a 10-year old, the day my delusional 10-year old eyes were pried open to the awful truth. This day showed me that I was a really good baker, but also, it taught me a lesson. Life wasn’t fair, no matter what you do. That day I was awoken with extremely strong emotions. Happiness ran through my veins.

“You are so lucky that your mom picks you up and drops you off at the bus stop every single day. My mom never does that for me except on a few occasions when the weather is terrible” my friend April said to me once during a bus ride.