Personal Narrative-V

When I was younger I had always been described as mature. Although I wasn’t anywhere near being “mature”, it was a word always used to describe me, well-mannered and mature. While my brother was goofy and social, I was shy and serious. We were twins yet total opposites. As a child, because that was the word almost always associated with me, it crae unusual, almost toxic idea about myself. I had to be mature to be what people liked about me. So, it never occurred to me to be able to not take myself seriously and say something like “Oops that was dumb” and laugh it off. For some reason that didn’t make sense to me to say silly things like that.

Many years have gone by with much contemplation about what I wanted to do when I grew up. Due to my age, that vision has looked like many different professions. I started out with dreams of having an Army career starting at the age of 18, to have that quickly change when my new husband and I found we were expecting our first child. When our commanding officer found out, he spoke to us and explained that both of us could be sent to war at the same time. Rather than deciding which family member to give custody of our child to in that situation, I decided to depart from the Army and start my new journey as “mom”.

She carries symbolic bracelets and tangled up headphones and torn playbills. She carries crumpled sheet music, a highlighted play script, a rusty gun and holster, an old calculator, worn out journals for writing fragmented lyrics, passionate feelings, unforgotten memories, and so much more. Twice or three times a week she carries packets of law and a lunch that was packed that morning. She carries a water bottle that is always half empty, or much like herself, half full, depending on how you see it. Wyatt carries the priceless shark tooth necklace she gave him, locked away somewhere unknown. Hannah carries the cheap but meaningful books that she gave her, unread but still valued. Her mother carries the candy she gave her, hard but sweet, a reflection of her soul. Something they all carried in common, was that they all carried something that was given; taking turns, they carried pieces of her shattered heart.

My dad, for as long as I can remember, has always been a big part of my life. All throughout middle and high school we would have heart to heart conversations just father and son. I can remember the warmth of the fire, the taste of tea on the tip of my tongue, a cool midnight breeze blowing in carrying the scent of grass and fresh rain, my dad sitting across the room telling me about the different projects he was working on, and regaling me with advice to help in everyday life. One night, he told me something that would change my life forever: that all the different clubs, hobbies, and sports that I do are connected to each other in some way, and how each skill I gain from each of these different activities can be filed away to use in a later

From my earliest years, I remember growing up in a highly political and partisan household. When I was younger, politics was merely background noise and a topic of debate. However, as I became older, politics became the lense through which I day dreamed about abolishing sexism, racism, and poverty. My families high involvement with politics not only made both my siblings and I politically active, but also propelled me into a career in political science.

I remember when I was a little girl so innocent and carefree, everything was just so enjoyable. going to the lake the smell of the fresh clean air, the sight of clear flowing water and the laughter of my sisters and I. I was the youngest of three sisters (no brothers). my sisters always protected me and always showed me how much they loved me. well we all grow up as a child you have no worries and no clue of the realities of life ahead until we are "Grown" .

At the start of the summer, I had the opportunity to fly to Michigan to see where my dad grew up. As I flew on the plane, I thought of all the sights I would be able to see and draw to share with my friends online about the exhausting yet fun travel to Michigan. But, as we grew closer and closer to Michigan, I was only able to see white, fluffy clouds cover the thick, oval window in front of me. So, for a while I slept and decided to not look out the window until we landed, until my overly excited mother vigoursly slapped my knee to jolt me up. I was in a state of shock but still dazy due to I was almost asleep. But, she told me to look out the window as I would see something I had never seen before. After, seeing out the window the first time,

Everything that has a beginning has an ending, never have I thought to myself that my ending would be losing the family I grew up with for over 20 years. The car accident which took all their lives will forever be encrypted in my memory until the day I take my last breath on this world. I warned my father it would be dangerous to take the entire family upstate in a van but he just yelled at me. That's something I never appreciated about my father, having a different opinion than him would just lead to him yelling at me and starting a massive argument. I called him a bastard and left him with the rest of the family. That was the last thing I said to my father, now I lie here, organizing the entirety of their funeral at my expense and leaving

“Thanks for letting me know." Saffron smiled, looking up. "You got any more advice," she implored.

One sunny August afternoon 5 years ago I made a brash decision that I regret to this very day. A choice I look back to this very day and question: “Why in the world did I do this?”

One day I was eating breakfast minding my own business, then I look out the window. Even though it’s nine A.M the sky in the distance is pitch black, and the dirt is 7,000 feet high.

Was it a normal, ordinary day. Also, it’s my first day at high school and new friends I met. Around I walked, saw a teacher, asked how his day was. Never responded. Maybe I should make sure he could see me, but at least I knew his name, it was Randy. By me, many teachers walked, but they also never responded. It also seemed like Randy had a gas tank with him.

I once became friends with a ghost named Henry, he was or still is nicely haunting a hotel in Georgia. Another time I befriended a ghost named Cecilia, she was in the process of moving on, but I didn't have the heart to tell her she wasn't doing it right. She wasn't making peace, she was creating more attachments.

My entire life changed and was falling apart around me. In the two years since mother had died, father had turned into a gambling womanizer. He spent the majority of his time looking for any woman with a dowry large enough for us to stay at Ashlake Manor. Our home was in ruins, and ultimately all of our servants had been released from their service.

“Hey sheep, it’s my notebook. Fill it before coming to school tomorrow or all your belongings will vanish without a trace!” That mentioned herbivore was no other than me, and the one who just threatened me named Chi, the tyrant. And clearly from this threat, I was bullied. Yes, I, the confident and courageous one as others often regard, was bullied.