Personal Narrative: The End Of Seventh Jensen

*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*

The end of 8th grade. Alex and I had spent so much time together. We fought a lot though, we hated each other for some time but in an instant we told each other we loved one another and went on to spend lots of time together. This happened many times during 7th and 8th grade. We built a couple groups of people that we would hang out with. Alex and I had made at least 20 close friends that we could hang out with any lunch or brunch. We had grown to be so close, and at the end of eighth grade he told me that he was moving. I felt horrible. I had made lots of friends, but the one person that I spent every day with was him. Alex and I spent a lot of time together before he left. But then he had to leave. I was kind of lost, I had friends but no

The span of this narrative takes place Thirty years prior to current time, in Two Thousand and Seventeen. At the time I was a young and well educated Osteopathic surgeon, however I had quite little experience with the field as the majority of patients came for infections in the foot rather than bone and muscle pain. I remember I had a child patient on the first week of 2017, a young man no older than 5 with a horrid infection within his big toe due to the digging of the nail. But nitrogen wasn’t able to fix it, so he had to have a quarter of his foot removed in an unnecessarily long procedure. This wasn't the first time this had happened, however I had grown tired of infection. Only people who deserved a bad condition should have it.

Would you ever do something that you weren't supposed to do but you still did it to honor your orders? That what happened with the “Six Hundred”. They rode on horseback into “The Valley of Death” for a half league. They were obeying a command to charge the enemy forces that seized their guns. Even though it wasn't their post they were obeying orders and they went on with the battle.

Delano then pulled a gun from his ankle holster and places it on the table top. --

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.

Throughout the conversation, Susan did not inform me that the home was still in First Look and not open to investors at this time. Susan did not highlight any features of the home, nor did she talk about the neighborhood or the surrounding area. When asked, Susan paused to reference the property file and stated, "In looking at the pictures it appears that it needs interior paint, carpet, appliances, and a few windows, which the previous seller must have taken." She stated, "I don't know why they have to remove things from the homes." I asked, "Do you have offers?" She paused to check the property file and answered, "No offers." I asked, "Is the property behind the home farmland?" She paused to reference the property file and replied, "It appears

After Finals, I came back to San Pedro for the summer. You wouldn't think the place would have changed that much in a year, but it sure as hell felt like I was living in another country. Most of the guys I went to high school had moved on by then and the whole town seemed so fucking strange.

We hadn’t talked in a few months. Before that, we were best friends. I wasn’t so sure how true that was right then. We didn’t exactly leave on perfect terms. At the end of the former school year, I was going through a lot, so I wasn’t acting normal. In fact, I was probably acting anything but my normal self. Normally I would be described as something like friendly, talkative, and happy. Around that time I was more like hostile, quiet, and depressed. I didn’t want to be around anyone or a part of anything.

It was just like every other day. The sun was shining, the birds were chirping playing their songs in harmony. I was at the station drinking my coffee.

Home is the beginning of one’s book. It is where your story begins, forms its characters, shows its purpose, and reveals its ora. This is how mine is written. Home is on the buzzing highway down a bumpy gravel road. It’s Brandon, Mississippi. It is the only home I’ve ever known. Home is the smell of homemade biscuits and tomato gravy on Saturday mornings. It is “Bless Your Heart” and “Yes Mam” and “No Sir”. The little bedroom in the back of a grey double-wide where Carrie Underwood songs played and where I learned to curl my hair and put on mascara. My cousins and I running around with mason jars, chasing the lightning bugs. Bar-B-q on the back porch and never meeting a stranger. It is the morals learned and the identity

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 was just going off the report. It just didn't sound positive. Plus the expected time to be back keeps changing. Also, consider that when he comes back he will not be in game shape and the team will also have to adjust to him being back in there as opposed to being use to him not being there. So at first it was back for the last four conference games and now it's end of the season, which means he gets to play one game in the Big 12 tournament or maybe two. And if he is back for the tournament you have your own team having to adjust playing games, daily until you lose.

Many things throughout my life have changed for the worse, but also have changed for the better. As the days grow into weeks then those weeks into months you realize that the years are not as long as they seem. All people have a purpose in life, but getting to where they want to go is the struggle. People may or may not share the same opinion or views, but at some time may have similar challenges. I always believed that everyone has a story to tell people to need to be willing to listen. If you listen you might learn something that can help you along your journey in life. If you give people a chance you may not only receive some sort of guidance you may even learn something new. Something new and that you never knew before. The readings over

Which will it be?Murderer or Hero? My fate hangs on the edge of this razor blade. I look at the cool piece of metal in my hand. How can I take this life? Maybe this heartless man does have a family? I stare into the ceiling not thinking clearly. This is my only chance to kill the man who murdered my friend James.