Personal Narrative : The Hidden Cause

At the age of nine, I watched my uncles lowering my father into the ground and what took his life was addiction. All my life I have watched addiction take over the lives of people, I love. My father's side of the family, besides my grandparents, has always faced addiction. Although, addiction runs through my blood, I will not take the same path I have watched people take all my life. I will be the one to end the cycle. Watching the majority of my family waste their life has motivated me to change the direction and better myself from living a life of addiction and misery.

I was incredibly excited. School was starting tomorrow. The first few days were just icebreakers, learning everyone’s names, blah blah blah. Then the real learning began. Of course, teachers started to write our lessons on the board. I started to notice a few changes in what I was seeing. The words they were writing were just...black lines! I didn’t pay much attention to it, I just asked my friends what the board said. As the year went on, it affected me more and more, especially in math. I saw a 2 as a 6, and and an A as an 8.

Over my years of school, one big influence on me has always been sports. Ever since a young age, I have always enjoyed playing and watching sports. In my four years in high school, I have fell in love with the sport of lacrosse.

I woke up and took one bite out of my pop tart but that one bite was all I could eat. My legs were shaking, and my heart was pounding. My dad told me, “It is a true honor to even make it this far so go out there and have some fun.” Once I heard this statement, I knew I was ready to go. I arrived at school and boarded the bus. The car ride was an hour and fifteen minutes of hearing the squeaking of the wheel on the bus. My teammates were getting their heads ready for the big game.

Of course the norm for me is that of any citizen living in zone three.

Just so you know, this is the Big Apple and I rule this town. New York City is filled with tall buildings, great culture, and historical sites. No other city has so much beauty that it takes your breath away; yet, there is a real danger that lurks on the streets. I should know because I am Detective Michael Morgan a United States Super Spy in charge of capturing dastardly villains who are set on destroying our world. Armed with mind-altering powers, Alex Higgins is on the top of the FBI’s list of the ten most wanted men in America. This thug is one of the greatest danger to our world and must be captured and jailed in the vault of death. There is no place safe for him to hide from the law and rumor has it, he is in my town. You break the law here in New York City, you pay the ultimate price: freedom.

I quickly swallowed my homemade authentic Indian food leftovers and gulped down my chocolate milk. Looking down at my watch that read 11:28am, I knew that I only had two minutes until my most favorite part of the day: recess. This particular day in 5th grade, I had run a lap around the playground before getting the rest of recess to myself. As I started walking for my warmup, another student ran up and said, “My parents said that your people caused 9/11.” Completely caught off guard, I held back the tears in my eyes and tried to shake off his comment. I had never encountered something like this.

“You’re pretty for someone who has dark skin.” I stood there in the middle of my 10th grade English class, stunned. Trying to fathom whether or not to accept it or acknowledge it was a backhanded compliment. I sat there thinking to myself did this other student who shares the same color skin as me, just feel the need to associate my beauty despite my color? This was just one of many times in my life I had encountered phrases like that, but that day in my English class, I realized society had created a social norm that just wasn't going to sit right with me.

When I was in the 8th grade, I read your book, The Hiding Place, for the first time. I am not much of a reader, so I struggle to get excited over books. However, from the very first chapter, I was captivated by the emotion and heart that was put into the book. It changed my outlook on how lucky I am to live in a country and a time where I can freely worship God without fear of what will come. I had no idea how much persecution was shown toward the Jewish community during the early to mid 1900s. It brought to my attention how much of a problem religious tolerance, or lack thereof, was during the time period. Even today as we struggle to follow and respect our religious values, we can look back on this time and be grateful for what we

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.

- my chest is going to collapse.. maybe more emotionally than physically but it all feels as if the pain is real and can always be felt.

I believe I was not created equally. When I open my eyes to this strange world I feel an urge to run and hide. I am not safe there is no escape.

In a restroom, in a church or anywhere else in the world you will judge a person by their appearance whether it be negative or positive, you cannot help it, it just happens whether you like it or not. For an example, when you are walking down the street and you see someone wearing ripped up clothes and bad hygiene then you automatically assume negative things such as beggar, homeless or even possibly a drug abuser. Being judged can go a different way also, you can think of someone as a rich, snobby individual because they are wearing very nice clothes and act a certain way but in all actuality, they could be a wonderful person. A more serious case of people judging other people that I have noticed is that most people

The way we were raised, or in the community we lived in is the reason why we are the person we are today. As I, Crystal, grew up in a household of two parents, and two older sisters. My childhood consisted of support, love, but mostly being spoiled by my entire family. The house I grew up in was in a neighborhood so friendly, loving neighbors, a place you would want to grow up in. Not a day went by that my sisters and I, and the other kids weren't outside playing, riding bikes everywhere, or simply walking to the elementary park a block away. With that said, I grew up well in a loving community, but with all that going on we had problems within our family. I was about 13 when I found out my parents were fighting and planning on divorce. Before the conflict, my parents decided on building a house outside

Please, tell me, what meaning do I hold, having abandoned the purpose I once served? I'm broken, neglected by the world you oh, so adore, Yet you laugh, blind to my obvious terror.