Personal Narrative-The Existence Of Aliens

My real age test placed me at 38.4 years old, just .9 under my actual age of 39. Apparently, I am doing what is necessary to maintain my age. The survey pointed out a number of things I am doing well, most notably are, my cholesterol level, which is quite low, my solid sleep schedule, which enables me to get 7 hours or more a night, having a healthy amount of sex, a solid social life with friends and family, life perspectives that reduce stress, and experiencing few financial difficulties all help me stay younger. Additionally, eating nuts, having breakfast regularly, minimizing red meat, and maximizing frequency of eating fish all contribute to reducing my “RealAge”. However, there are a number of things I can do to decrease my RealAge.

I’ve always wondered what the outside world was like. As a cooter turtle, I’ve been living inside the same old glass walls filled with unnatural water. It felt like prison. No matter how much I swam, I would see the exact same things over and over again- small rocks, plants, and two other strange objects that I couldn’t identify. My turtle mate, River, had guessed that one of the strange objects were probably a human object used to keep the water “clean”. I found that kind of strange since the water was never clean anyway. River was a Red-Eared slider and was a few inches smaller than me. Or at least I thought he was. I’ve always thought of him as a scaredy fish because he always ran away from everything. Whenever the Twoleg came towards us, he would dash away like as if he saw a ghost, and whenever I asked him why he was so afraid, he would refuse to answer.

Narrator: It was a cold, rainy night in the middle of the Chihuahuan Desert. There was a run-down, isolated shack roughly 200 miles away from the Mexico-U.S. border. This is where the coyotes live. Jasmina knew that she would have to collaborate with these men in order to have any fighting chance of surviving the dangerous journey into U.S soil.

When someone wasn’t cooperating we grab their heads and shove them in our mouths using our teeth to rip there brains out. * Skip to 1 ½ months* We have collected all the humans and we are racking up everything we need. The humans have been in there little country trying to build items out of the 1,0000,000 trees there are there. But they haven’t been very successful

I never thought I would be labeled an outsider, a misfit even. As I trudged my way through the halls of my small town high school, I would endure the gazing pairs of eyes, that belonged to my peers, followed by whispering and often times some laughter. I always used zone out during those repetitive speeches and commercials about the effects of gossiping and rumors; never did I imagine that one day I would be on the receiving end of of the everyday potshot. Growing up I was always the center of attention, the one everyone yearned to be friends with, never was I the antisocial child in the corner with nowhere to turn… not until high school. They say high school changes you. They say high school accounts for some of the greatest years of

I’ve always been an outsider, it’s been hard for me to build friendships and relationships. Not too long ago, there I sat in the corner of the room in the way back, trying to hide from the world, and be myself. I didn’t really want to get involved with anything or anyone. I was afraid to open up, talk to others, maybe because I was afraid to get rejected. Until, I met the best people I could ever meet, my best friends Marisa Mendoza, Jessica Contreras and Deseray Reyes, the ones who up to this day have sticked by my side, at my best, and worst moments. They have all been a big part of my life, I can enjoy every minute I spend with them. For me, they aren’t only my friends they are like my sisters.

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.

Hi iam Edgardo Flores i was born in casa grande, az not that far away from our state capital,Phoenix, Az.theres nothing better to do in a hot summer than going out with the friends to a lake and have a blast riding jet skis boats and my favorite, swimming!My activites of the day are shooting,riding horses,and my favorite one is quad riding.Thats right! ive been doing these fun exciting hobbies since i was 9 years old.pretty young huh?

all the people, you widely look around and see everything is already going to be so much fun. We finally pull up, and found a spot, and we started walking up to the entrance we had to get tickets first it was definitely a nervous experience we finally get to the gate, and walk in, and we started deciding which side to go on so we decide to start at the mummy that’s something I got to talk about. Ok so we go and get in line, the line was long. So we waited and waited and finally got a chance to go on but before we got on, me and my friend saw this one sign that said, high speed roller coaster and we lost it! I have never been on a roller coaster before. So anyways we got to the front,

My initial perceptions about the students of St. Angela were very stereotypical. Honestly, I expected those students to come from single parent backgrounds and come from a low income household. I expected to deal with students who live life in a survival type of manner. What I mean by survival type of manner is for one to be on defense seeing the type of the children are from the Austin area. Walking in to St. Angela I expected to deal with kids that didn’t listen and know respect for authority. I expected this due to my upbringing in the same neighborhood.

His eyes are made for the road. Two tornado blue irises meet the highway, looking past the smudges on his lightweight frameless glasses. He shifts his hands along the steering wheel, dodging what hurts most. Noting which movements prevent his worn hands from freezing into twisted positions like cream flowing into black coffee. He wheezes a cough. Loses stability. Regroups. Accelerates.

It’s Monday, March 15 1943. Each day just gets harder, more people start getting sent to execution camps or how my parents tell my little brother, “a place that needs more workers.” I’m scared for the day it’s my parents getting called to leave, or my little bother, Ash. I know things will start to become stricter due to the Resistance fighters, me being one of them, which have been trying to get through the Muranowska Pokorna Wall. The number of German soldiers to barricade walls has increased. With the hundreds of us that attempted to escape through the wall, I was lucky I wasn’t killed and was able to get away without the Germans knowing I was part of the resistance. I know my family couldn’t handle losing me now. Both my parents are weak and they know that there time to be sent to the concentration camps is coming soon. I just hope it’s me who leaves before them. I don’t think I could take care of ash on my own. I don’t think I could make the situation we’re in seem any better than how it really is. He’s seven years old, but he’s had to grow up a lot faster than most seven year olds his age, everybody in Warsaw has. Tonight was the last night I will be staying in Warsaw, or at least that is what I am hoping for. It took a lot for my family to understand my decision to be part of the resistance. But they respect my choice now. I know it is selfish, and I know it won’t be easy. But I can’t hide anymore, I can’t wait around to be killed. I want to fight back even if it means maybe leaving behind the thing I love most in the world. The fights are

When I was 12 years old, and my grade wasn’t promising. My parents all blame me, but never encourage me to bring it back up, so for a year my grade never changed. During that year my mom treat me like I wasn't her son. Me and my mom fight almost every day. The next year, everything was the same. My grade was still on the ground, until the next semester my friend encourage me and helped me to bring my grades up. They tried to help me and try to convince me to compete with them so I can bring my grades up faster. When I was 7 years old, there was a bully back in China who was in 6 grade. He beat up first, second, and third graders. I told my parents so they can do something about it, but they thought I was talking about a third grader, so they say to deal with the problem myself. For a year he was still bullying people, so my friend courage me to go with them so that we can tell the teacher. The teacher didn't do anything about it, some and my friend brought bats and beat him up. Some of my friend got hurt pretty bad, but we got him into the hospital, and after that he stopped bullying people.

Yours truly have some extremely strong feeling, trying to replicate back to my earliest childhood memory of my life, my first version was describing the setting that of my father hitting my mother over the head with something. Now, I personally know it was a gun. She was lying in a pool of blood in front of the fireplace with, me by her side trying to wait her up, then going outside crying subsequently my, grandmother could hear me. There were numerous scary moments in my childhood. I myself, can recall as a child, my father and brother falling in a lake of water with my mother shouting for help to get both of them out of the water. Our house catching on fire with my mother and me along with three of my siblings trying to get out my mother powerful strength holding on to us without letting go. Which my father were no there to be found. Later we learned that he was drinking with his friends up the street under a tree. Yours truly was told a few neighbors came to help. At that point we stay with my grandparents which I adored them. For the reason that I loved waiting for my granddad to come home from work for him to take me to get vanilla ice cream. After moving to Cincinnati, Ohio at the age of six from Alabama. My father continues to be very abuses to my mother for fourteen years of their marriage. Thank God she’s still alive today.

For as long as I can remember, the ET phenomena has mystified and taken the public and mainstream scientific community by storm. The ET myth has caused more mass hysteria than the Big Foot myth. To unravel the mystery of extraterrestrials would contradict life as we know it. Is there sufficient evidence to prove the claim that extraterrestrials exist? I personally think the notion of extraterrestrial beings somewhere in the Universe, let alone on Earth, is far-fetched. In my SEARCH of this claim, I did not uncover any evidence that would convince me unequivocally that extraterrestrials exist. This claim of extraterrestrial life is unfounded and the evidence at best is anecdotal.