Personal Narrative-The Bedroom Room

“Caitlin, it’s good to see you again,” Jessie Wells said to me as I signed into the hospital, it seemed sad that I had been there so much the staff knew my name.

The hospital room is a cream color and gave off a depressing mood. Faint noises of crying come from other rooms. Picking up my arm to stretch, but unable to move as thoughts start rushing to my head. A familiar face steps into the room. Her eyes a red color from crying I can tell. She has wavy brown hair and an hourglass figure. Small and tan she hesitantly walks closer and lies a small hand on my head. That's the last thing I remember before I black out again.

It is a little white house outside the city. He got his own bedroom. Timothy felt like a big boy now because he was no longer share a bedroom with his sister.

It was that day I almost gave up. We just finished field and we went back inside to clean up. We got assigned things and then when I finished that I was supposed to do, I started to help Daiji. He let me use the razor blade, then, my hands slipped, then the razor blade went into my thumb.

"You've got to come," said Colleen. "I'll talk to Joe," I responded, wanting to say

You never actually said your name out loud to anyone, and I'm not entirely sure how I managed to find it out in the first place. I'm sure it was through the whisper chains you hear every so often in this cafe. You have a soft voice you know, it's barely audible when you say things, it's not quite what I'd call gruff or gritty, it just has this sort of toughness. It's as though you've steadily built up a defence mechanism in your voice so people don't ask you things you'd rather not answer.

The morning sun shined brightly in the sky, seeping through the window of Epsilon’s bedroom. The sunlight hit Malessica’s face, causing her to slowly turn the other direction. She grabbed onto Sabra, snuggling her tightly. Sabra slightly opened her eyes, seeing Malessica’s arms on her. Sabra closed her eyes, not necessarily being bothered by it. She knew it’d be wise to wake up soon, but she had forgotten how comfortable a bed was. Wanting to discuss plans with everyone, she did her best to will herself out of bed. Taking her phone, she looked at the time, deciding, she’d lay down for a little bit longer.

The three of you decided to continue down the hallway. Sarah and Rayna walk in front so they were the one who fell into the huge hole full of rats. Sarah and Rayna scream for help as the rats devour them. You freak out and run home. That night you keep having nightmares and couldn't take it anymore so you take some sleeping pills. The next morning your sister come into your room to find you dead. You overdosed.

The best way to understand my major of interest is to take a guided tour of my bedroom. Over the years I have transformed it into a functional workspace that showcases my two primary hobbies. First, I will set the scene by describing the layout and general level of organization. Walking through the door, the first thing one notices is the makeshift workstation. Sitting askew across a folding table are five quadcopters in various states of repair. Their visual appearances range from sleek and futuristic, to a skeletal frame fitted with haphazard cables. No bedroom workshop is complete without a complementing assortment of tools, and this one is no exception. A soldering iron, drills, and other equipment are spread out in a functional, but disorganized

On Saturday evening September 2,1017, at an approximately 8:10 p.m., I was sitting on the couch living room. With a PWS in my arms, Angie B. was sitting on the sofa as well, but she was on her cell phone. The PWS was crying, and I was trying to calm him down. I asked Angie had she took out the trash in the bathroom because it was almost full? Angie replied that is what the 10:0 people do. I said, “Angie come on be a team player and take out the trash, and by the way your PWS laundry basket is full you might want to pull it.” She continues to look down at her phone. All at once, Angie jumped up off the couch, looked at me, and said that I have been on her case for three days now. I said, " I haven't been here for three days." Angie left the

Ever since I was a little kid, I have been building things. I was drawn to my dad’s tools, and the spare wood around the house represented something new. Nearly every day I would go down into the basement, for one reason or another, and see the wood, and the heavy drawers where the tools were kept. Occasionally, my dad would have to make small repairs around the house, the kind that all homeowners make. I loved to watch him do these sort of jobs, and sometimes I would get to hold nails and screws, or keep that plywood sheet in just the right place, so he could hammer it in. I was disappointed that I couldn’t help him more. One day, I changed that.

It was a Saturday morning, the sun was shining and my sister and I haven’t fought so far that day. Later in the afternoon, my dad allowed us to build a file cabinet that we bought the day before. My dad, sister, and I walk into the garage and start opening the box. I thought that my sister and I should first scan the manual. After we glanced at the manual, my sister decided that she would build the cabinet while I just hand her the materials and pieces. I disagreed. We began to have an extensive argument about who gets to build and who gets to help.

I lay here in bed. The room is dark and empty. The darkness is like I've never seen it before. It expands into a great bisque of unknown. The abyss sucks me in like a black hole in space. As I lay here I think about my family. I think of my father who is in Memphis Tennessee, I think of my mother who's in the kitchen cooking. I smell the smell of enchiladas drifting through the year I smell The distinct smell of paprika flowing through the air. I hear the sizzling of the melting cheese on the stove. As I lay here my bed feels like loud. I feel as if I'm on a throne with in the sky floating around with no end in sight. I hear the fan. It's roaring like a jet engine. I think to myself it shouldn't be that wild but life goes on. A beaming light

Imagine sitting in the bathroom, thinking about how bad you were at dance. Yeah, that’s what I was doing 30 minutes into my class. It all started out good, my teacher was very nice and encouraging, along with all my other friends in the class. We were all doing our warm-ups, when Kourtney Grove walked in the door. I almost dropped dead. The teacher welcomed her as she threw her stuff on the ground and stood next to me. Kourtney, was almost twice my height, she was on the wrestling team, and did I forget to mention, she bullied me and three of my friends. I wondered what she was doing here, she wasn’t a very gentle person. As the teacher explained something called a pirouette, she whispered to me in a crisp voice,” Get outta my way shorty”. I slowly raised my head and glanced at her, my bottom lip quivering.

The living room phone continued to ring. I rarely answered calls to my house, and attempted to ignore the obnoxious sound. The phone’s commotion lingered, “Ring…Ring…Ring.” I grudgingly stood up from the couch and walked to answer the phone. “Johnson residence, this is Josiah.” I stated. A mournful voice whispered, “Josiah…This is Mrs. Wright.” She paused for an awkward moment. “Caden isn’t with us anymore.” My heart froze. I responded in an instant, “What do you mean? What’s going on?” Silence overtook the conversation for a minute before the now sobbing mother answered, “Caden shot himself last night. He isn’t with us anymore.” Mrs. Wright continued the conversation, but her words blurred into unrecognizable sounds. My thoughts had preoccupied