Personal Narrative: The Adulterated Soul

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.

The historical accuracy of Selma's story has been the subject of controversy about the degree to which artistic license should be used in historical fiction.[79][80] The film was criticized by some for the omission of various individuals or groups historically associated with the Selma marches, while others challenged how particular historical figures in the script were represented. Most controversy in the media centered around the film's portrayal of President Johnson and his relationship with King. To people such as LBJ Presidential Library director Mark Updegrove[81] and Joseph A. Califano, Jr., Johnson was seen as a champion of civil rights legislation and a proactive partner of King, and they accused the film of falsely depicting Johnson

*disclaimer: bare with me... the next 5 chapters are crap because i wrote them over a year ago...chapter 19 will be the start of some great shit*

You've probably heard of a message in a bottle, but have you ever heard of the "Devils Message"? Probably not because it was a ridiculous game my brother, sister, and I came up with when we were bored. We played this game only a couple times but only when my cousin Maxx came to visit did we decide to record ourselves in the event that something funny would happen. The day started just like any other normal fall day. My cousin Maxx was visiting from Johnstown so we were looking for something to do. All of a sudden Joe got the bright idea to show Maxx Devils Message. We all got dressed and headed out for the swing set.

I think that is an excellent thought, Lindsey. When I first read this that is what I thought as well. Whenever Ada begins to let Susan love her, and whenever Susan starts to show more affection Ada lashes out. I think that Ada lashes out because she feels like she is not deserving of love, and she is not deserving of nice things. This just tears me up inside when a person does not feel like they are worth being loved. The amount of damage that Ada has suffered is almost irreversible now and I think Susan is starting to realize that this will not be an easy fix. I am honestly surprised at how normal Jamie is because even though he was not the one who was abused, he witnessed the abuse. I am glad that he has not lost his trust in people. This

You know that moment when you’re trying to reach the toilet paper but can't quite, then fall and kill yourself on a pumpkin? Yeah I know that feeling… it’s not good. It all started one very normalish day at 1065 Fitzgerald Ave.

Lurid means vivid and unpleasant. Lurid was a word on a weekly vocab quiz I took the week I first visited Simon’s Rock. Lurid was a word used casually (and properly) in a passionate discussion about a Rococo painting, The Swing, in an art history class at Simon’s Rock.

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.

The stone was cold and I could feel the pain swelling up inside. I took a step towards the edge, I thought to myself, “One more step and the worries would end…” if only it was that easy.

When you crash into a truck and your car flips over four times, usually you die. In my case I’m just in a coma, lying in a hospital bed. There are two problems with this. For starters, I’ve been in this coma since 2008 and it’s nearly 2016. The doctors say that pretty soon they’ll have to pull the plug on me because I’m not showing any signs of waking up any time soon. Apparently, I’m taking up a bed that could be used for some other sick kid. The second problem is that I’m not just lying half-conscious, but I’m in another world. This may sound crazy, but it’s true. When you become comatose your brain pulls a few strings and sends you to a lovely place called The Inbetween. The Inbetween is filled with people who are in situations similar to mine, but how they ended up like this could be different. The world is peaceful and everything until you realize the downside. When you wake up in the strange world, the first thing you notice is the bright blue tattoo embed onto your forearm. Every person here has a different one, and you can not leave until you find your match. This process could, unfortunately, take days, weeks, or even years. Sadly if your match dies before they can even get here, then you pass away as well. I have been stuck here for almost eight years and I’ve had no luck with finding my match. I wander around all day, greeting new people and asking them to have a peek at their ink and no one has

The Unified Soul Theory is a movement which is important to me because dividing ourselves based upon labels makes us more like a file cabinet than a species. People seem to be trained to completely ignore someone if there are other people around who look more familiar. Like the closest you get to a mirror image, the better you can get along with someone and the more comfortable you should feel around them. I don’t understand why we are doing this instead of remembering that we are all human.

The body I had managed to jostle awake was a latecomer to Oeste the Stalerie had labeled Makenna. It was common for farmers to sell their female children to Oeste, the males were sold to Sur, on the night they were born and given a new name under the King. It was either the tower you sold your children to, or the death of not only your Daelocke child, but it meant your death as well. My own father was an impoverished horse farmer somewhere near the south. He, his wife and four children occupied a home somewhere distant from the island. They had supplied The King and his Stalarie their horses and livestock. I was told by the Sylphen that I was the last child born, and regrettably, born under the night of a full moon. He had sold me just three

The last memories we had with our families was when these men in black killed an outsider for trying to enter the island. We watched the men in black chase after the people in the streets forcing them to go into their houses and watch a man who I had seen before make a statement on television. The man was tense, stiff, and his stature looked forced.

Please tell me again Why do I keep coming back I don't wanna do this anymore Coming back to you is like ecstasy One taste and I want more Let me take a breath I am ready to let you go You are bad for me But I always ask for more I get lost in the deep You are the only drug I need

The silks fascinated me. Their crimson sheets billowed in the warm breeze, promising to engulf me in their creases, tempting me towards the sky. They were the only thing in camp we were allowed to climb, and though I longed for the familiarity of a good, tall, tree, I knew those twin drapes would have to do. By reclining on the crash mat that lay under the silks to prevent injuries, and half-squinting my eyes, I could imagine that the fabrics reached up infinitely, and I longed to ascend to the top. So of course, I went to the first class.