Personal Narrative: The Two Protagonists Of My Life

There are many ways One’s identity can be defined. Only you can truly define who you are. You control what your experiences and influences make of you. When asked who am I, there could be millions of different answers depending on what you base your identity off of. To me, the question who am I, can only truly be answered in one way. So, who am I? For me, it’s an easy question. I’ve always known that I was the quiet girl In the back of the classroom by herself.

I believe you can achieve anything you want in life with hard work, dedication, and passion. There are many experiences I have gone through that have helped shaped who I am today. I may not have control over certain situations, but I have a choice on how it affects me.

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?

When it comes to what separates me from other teenagers, there would be quite a bit to tell. I would say a major difference which separates me from my peers is my love for barbershop harmony music. I do not have a quartet of my own; however, I love to sing barbershop tags with other friends at church. I set myself apart from the world because of my beliefs: as a New Testament christian, I believe the bible gives us all instruction concerning spiritual matters.

Miss. Levon was my language teacher, and she was the absolute best. She would let you find a book that you were interested. If you weren’t interested in any book, she would help you go through each book until one intrigued you. I liked a few books, but there wasn’t that “one book”. I couldn’t find a book I could fall in love with. In her class, we had to give a summary about what we read and if we liked it or not. I would always summarize the book, but I would never like a book. Miss. Levon noticed that and one day she asked if sheher and I could stay after school and look for a good book. I decided to do it and see if I couldcan’t find a book I actually wanted to read. After about an hour or so looking, I thought I would never find a good book. She found a book for older kids and read it to me. It was Hachet, and I was instantly hooked on it. I couldn’t believe that a teacher, Miss. Levon, would go out of her way to help me find a book that I was truly interested in. She had a passion for books, and ever since spending that day after school in the library with her, I developed a small passion for

The clouds were black, immeasurable, and grotesque. I still believe it was because my best friend was leaving for war. My friend Nicholas was the only person that I could have reliance and certainty with. He was the person that when the stresses of the world got to heavy on my shoulders he would pick the world up of my shoulders and carry the burden of the stresses of reality for me. In the end there are no words to describe the signification he has in my life and there is no comfort that can fix the loss that I feel in my heart because of his absence. So for the time being my heart will be in two places, half with me here in Denver, Colorado and the other half in Kandahar, Afghanistan.

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

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

Identity is what I believe the thing that makes up all human beings. Everybody has an identity, some just aren't as brisk to comprehend what it is or what it means. Identity is generally what someone's traits make up and in my case, I believe I am benevolent, venturesome, and optimistic. Some of the qualities I consider myself to have are not what I would have considered myself to be last year. I believe life lessons that someone undergoes can change their identity and the way they come off drastically.

When you crash into a truck and your car flips over four times, usually you die. In my case I’m just in a coma, lying in a hospital bed. There are two problems with this. For starters, I’ve been in this coma since 2008 and it’s nearly 2016. The doctors say that pretty soon they’ll have to pull the plug on me because I’m not showing any signs of waking up any time soon. Apparently, I’m taking up a bed that could be used for some other sick kid. The second problem is that I’m not just lying half-conscious, but I’m in another world. This may sound crazy, but it’s true. When you become comatose your brain pulls a few strings and sends you to a lovely place called The Inbetween. The Inbetween is filled with people who are in situations similar to mine, but how they ended up like this could be different. The world is peaceful and everything until you realize the downside. When you wake up in the strange world, the first thing you notice is the bright blue tattoo embed onto your forearm. Every person here has a different one, and you can not leave until you find your match. This process could, unfortunately, take days, weeks, or even years. Sadly if your match dies before they can even get here, then you pass away as well. I have been stuck here for almost eight years and I’ve had no luck with finding my match. I wander around all day, greeting new people and asking them to have a peek at their ink and no one has

An important part of every humans life is having something they believe in. Having something to care about is essential for people to reach their full potential in life. People need a special person in their life, or a great job that sparks passion in them to bring them happiness. There are many of these types of passions in my life but to better understand who I am, there isn't just one, there are three people who have shaped the young adult I am today. My two little sisters and my little brother. However they aren't exactly normal siblings, they were given to us by the City of Cincinnati for temporary care, while their mothers tried to recover from heroin addiction and battled in court to explain why their child was hospitalized because of a lack of food.

“Someone forgot to take a shower.” Two pairs of eyes immediately looked over at me. My first day of sixth grade was full of many microaggressions and passive aggressive chuckles. “No, but actually, who smells like that?” Attending a predominantly white school in the suburbs of Minnesota attenuates you to that kind of stuff. “Is it true Ethiopians eat food with their hands like monkeys?” Little did I know that these microscopic insignificant interactions had a greater impact on my awareness of my own identity than anyone else. I stood five feet tall, with my dark brown skin, and wore my hair into two puff balls, one on each side. I already stood out. The strong smell that surrounded my entire body is what made me stand out even more. Middle

1) During the second week of clinical, a patient of mine was extremely anxious in regard to the life style changes that needed to be made once he was discharged from the hospital. He was also uneasy about the cardiac catheterization scheduled for that day, to which I provided support and resources that morning to help with his worries. His nervousness was first noticeable during the head to toe assessment where the patient asked numerous questions about life after being discharged. I first interpreted my patient’s questions and concerns as normal, until later that day when he asked the same questions to which I answered. I responded to these signs of anxiety by sitting down with my patient and having another discussion about his concerns. During our discussion, I explained how only slight modifications needed to be made since he already lived an active lifestyle. Upon reflection, I wondered if therapeutic touch could have helped lower the anxiety my patient was experiencing.

The feeling of the newly fresh tide smell from the stack of jerseys overflows my nose. I begin dressing myself deliberately and my focus starts to be overcome by a sense of nervousness. Tying the last knot thinking how am i going to benefit my team and my teammates, but however my emotions prohibit my thinking, making me vulnerable to any mistake on the pitch. A tsunami of concerns make me think too much and lasts for an eternity.

Many times I find myself just rambling a list of events when writing. I do not enjoy writing but I do not hate it. My goal this year for me as a writer is to get better at making my writing pieces a fun story to read and not just a boring list of events. I do not see myself with a career involving writing in the future but you never know. I don't think I would ever have the patience to write a published book. My favorite author is definitely Gary Paulsen. Gary Paulsen wrote my favorite book Hatchet. My favorite writing piece i've ever done was my paper on Russia in fourth grade. A research paper is my favorite type of paper because you learn as you write. My least favorite type of paper to write is a Personal