Personal Narrative: The Mentality Of An Adult

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.

Her father’s words echoed through her head as one might hear a reverberation throughout the Taj Mahal. Continuous. Chilling. Having no control to distill the wavelengths until they mellowed out on their own accord. She tried to anatomize the depth of his phrase, more than dutifully needed but Davina needed to know why. Why did she need to keep an open mind and more importantly, who the hell was about to come bursting through that door. But then again, did it really matter in the first place. When she thought about it, the brunette could have laughed at the idea. That an unattributed, faceless figure had her panties in a bunch. Surely Dominic wouldn’t think to waste her time with venial diversions,

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

I grew up as one of the hardest things to commit to, black and alternative. My meaning of alternative is being interested in goth fashion and heavy metal music. From what I was told, being black is listening to hip-hop and dressing like everyone else around them or what is the social norm. Clearly, my definition of alterative is contrasting on what it means to be “black.” I say it's hard to commit because coming from a closed black family, I felt pressed to let go of what I felt about myself just to make them happy. Questions like, ‘’Why are you trying so hard to be different?’’ or ‘’Who told you that was okay?’’ Still replay in my head whenever I decide to wear something that I would feel most comfortable in. Not long ago, I got into an arguement

“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.

There are plenty of points in my eighteen years that made me grow up more than I really needed to. Moving from Michigan to Spain when I was nine, smoking my first cigarette when I was eleven, my dad leaving when I was eleven, my first alcoholic drink when I was twelve, losing my friends when I was fourteen, et cetera. Some of these were just me trying to act like an adult when I wasn't actually ready, but none of these were some pivotal point in my life where I went from being a child to being an adult. And now that I think about it, maybe that's just not how it works. Maybe adulthood doesn't always come crashing down on you at a major point in your life, but comes in gradually like the sea on a calm day rising higher and higher on the sand.

How many of you have something at work that you don’t like to do? Something that you knowingly avoid until you have to force yourself to complete it? I know that I have a couple things that I didn’t enjoy doing, or things that I wasn’t very good at. When I first started working here at Clickstop I was in MFG doing the packaging portion of things. I always tried to push myself to be the fastest at everything that I packed. Everything except for Old Dominion.

Here I am, a twenty-seven-year-old. I never dated anyone or even had a real job. Today, I am face to face with a prostitute. Let me just say I am clueless when it comes to anything sexual. And to be clear, I am not attractive. I am full of scars and I am literally skin and bones. I think to myself, “Why I’m I here?”, “Is this what it means to be an adult?”. Well let me tell you a story of my depression incident with loneliness.

I remember one day when we were kids, Hope spent the night at my house, and woke up in the middle of the night crying. I did my best to console her throughout the night, and then she told me how her step-father beat her mom at their house for hours the day before. Hope felt powerless; for all she could do was sit in her room with her two little sisters and listen to the heart-wrenching screams coming from the other room. Hope then

What makes you an adult? This simple question can spawn a variety of answers ranging from your physical appearance, to your character, maturity, or adulthood just corresponds with your age (if you’re boring). My metamorphosis from a useless juvenile caterpillar into a mature adult butterfly occurred shortly after the fifth grade, not because I got “the talk”, but because that is when I got sick.

Over that agonizing February, while my family stayed by my grandfather’s side, I remained home trying to succeed in school. I was intentionally left out of the conversation to protect my emotions. However, being shielded from the situation only lead to pain because I was left with nothing but assumptions and fears. I later discovered that my grandfather nearly died during his time in the hospital. He was on the verge of death, and I was left in the dark. That sense of dread while I was alone accounted for a significant amount of my

Willow acted calm like it was no big deal we might go in a submarine but I could tell she was excited and eager. Willow’s dad finally finished talking to the lab workers. He walked over to us with a stern look on his face. He sighed like he was sad, and my heart dropped. Did they say no. He sighed again, “Well, they said,” then he smiled, “We can!” All three of us jumped for joy! We were going in a submarine! “You scared me for a second!” Willow told her dad. “Yeah, well we have to go now or we won’t be allowed. So, right this way!” He guided us through the mass of submarines to a bright orange one with black lineing. “Woah,” I whispered. “Cool, right?”Scarlett nudged me. “Yeah,” I said softy. Willow’s dad went around the left side of the

One sunny day in New York, a beautiful baby girl named Zuri was born. She was healthy, weighed 7lbs and 2oz, light brown pigment, brown eyes, and black hair. Her mother and father were very proud of the amazing creation they had made. They couldn’t describe the love that flowed through the room that day. Zuri was crying but as soon as the doctor handed her to the mother, she instantly stopped crying and tried to focus on her mother's facial features. The mother noticed the struggle and pulled her closer, Zuri instantly locked eyes. She soon began to coo and smile. They thought nothing could ruin their small family, but as years go by, Zuri’s mother and father didn’t laugh as much as they used to. They fought often and occasionally did drugs. Zuri was enrolled into school at 5 years old and the years flew by. She was very intelligent but wasn't like the others, she was smaller because she didn’t eat as much as she needed too. When she was in 6th grade, she experienced her first case of bullying. The kids picked on her for being darker than everyone else, and she tried to brush them off but they never stopped. Cole and Bryce were the main ones to harassed her everyday at school. She felt like no one was listening to her pleased for help. She had no friends, her parents were addicted to drugs, and the other students wouldn’t help. She was too scared to tell a higher authority, so she thought she was all alone. The next day a new kid came into her class, his name was Castiel. He

Usually when a child starts to grow up and start to face new challenges and obstacles in life they look around and think, where are my parents? Who is going to help me now? In this sad moment they will figure out that their won’t always be someone to help and protect them from the dangers of this world. I realized this as I was growing up. I had just “graduated” kindergarten and was stepping out into the real world – grade 1. I was no longer being babied, no more time-outs for the bullies, everyone was on their own. In grade 1 you were allowed to go outside for recess and weren’t being trapped by fences, you were free to do whatever you wanted. Now in grade 1 I was the new kid, I had recently moved from another school and didn’t know anyone. The first day during recess I had no one to play with and was walking alone through the field and the “big kids” (third graders) came up to me and started bullying me at first they were swearing at me but I decided to fight back, and then before I realized it I was on the ground my knee was scrapped and bleeding. I looked around – there was no one to help me. At this moment I asked myself, who is going to help me, I looked around there were no teachers. Feeling helpless I stayed on the ground and started to cry. “It was all the fear which would come to me, all the unknown; all that daddy didn’t know about, and couldn’t save me from.” This was the