The Story Of My Story

I had picked up on all the cue’s in the music that triggered me to walk to a certain spot or execute a certain motion. Now all there was left to do was hitting these stunts. I had gotten frustrated to the point of tears and walked out of the gym. My sister, who at the time was on the varsity cheer team, came after me. Why the most sympathy she had ever shown me, she told me I would be able to do it. She had said she had never been so proud of me and that if anybody deserved to be recognized at this assembly, it was me. My sister told me that she could have never pulled off what I was in the process of doing. At that moment in time, I knew I had to get back in the gym and give it every inch of effort I had left.

Alice grabs my hand, pulling me along with her as she dashes behind the bar. We duck down out of sight, huddle together, while Clyde remains standing as our protector.

Brett smirked in reply, his eyes moving from Elena's body and dripping pussy to trail the movement of the cube up, then locking on her face. As gorgeous as the woman's form was, and the many temptations she had to offer, he was entranced by her features, and her expressions and moans as he dripped the cold water onto his skin had his already aching shaft threatening to rip through the seams of his boxers.

Ryder stared at the ultra ball in his hand as N and Gladion sat in front of him. He stared at it for a minute before spinning it.

Not long after he'd spoken, Jeremiah silently wished that he could take the words back, or least the piety, behind them. It had seemed a good idea at the time, and appropriate for such an obviously god-fearing women such as Ms Vanderholme, however, unfortunately he'd only too late realised that might just encourage her to return it in kind. And, she surely did, with an incredible amount of vigour that had him clenching his fists behind his back, arms placed there in what he hoped would seem a posture of respect, rather than an attempt to restrain himself from a sudden overwhelming desire to throttle her. Overbearing was the word, and the only thing that stopped him from making his excuses right there and then, was a quick flick of his eyes

I definitely owe a huge portion of who I am today to my mom, Elyse Boston. She’s been by my side through everything and has taught me so much about life. My mom played basketball at Kansas State University for four years, so she knows the game like the back of her hand, so when I wanted to play basketball, she decided she would coach. Having my mom as a coach and taking criticism from her at a young age was one of the hardest things I have ever had to do because when we were at practice or playing in a game she wasn’t “mom” she was “coach”. I had to program my brain to always say “okay, coach” instead of “I know, mom.” At first, it was really hard because it felt like every time I made a mistake because she would call me out on it when other girls would make the same mistake and she would just let it go. I didn’t understand why she was so hard on me compared to the rest of my teammates. I would get so frustrated with her and I would roll my eyes sometimes; I learned really quick rolling my eyes was really disrespectful and I eventually learned to break that habit. Now, I’m a college athlete and the last thing I will do is roll my eyes at a coach, teacher, or any adult because my mom taught me how disrespectful that was and I see people roll their eyes and I see how bad that looks and I am so grateful my mom taught me how to be respectful. Even if I had to learn the hard way.

My life would change forever today. I would have a baby sister, and I did not know then

“At some point, you have to realize that some people can stay in your heart, but not in your life,” Sandi Lynn. The fear of losing a loved one is one of the worst things in life, and no matter how hard you try to get over it or how hard you fight against it, when the time comes, you are never going to be ready. I realized that when my grandfather died; too young to understand what death was, but old enough to experience the pain. Not only he died, also part of me did. “I will always be by your side, my little princess,” were the words that came to my mind as I walk down to where we would meet. I smiled, as I remembered how much fun we always had”

There was darkness. Nothingness. Except the excruciating pain. But with pain came existence, and with existence hope. Then, slowly, Jacob lifted his head from the ground. As his blurry vision cleared, many things came to him: the fire raging on the wing, the plane lurching as it fell, and the last frozen second before impact.

My story began like most in America. I was born to very Christian loving parents who were hardworking, family oriented people. My father was a military man, my mother worked odd jobs and was a homemaker. My young life started with turmoil due to my early childhood diagnosis of Dyslexia. I was hyperactive and was required to take medication and attend special education classes. My attitude towards learning was compromised because it was a constant struggle. My parents did all they could to help me along. We were a military family and I spent years overseas while my father served in the United States Army.

In a long story short, I originally lived in Gypsum Colorado but moved away because my parents thought that we should be more helpful here instead of there, also wanted us to spend more time with our family relatives. We've started packing up on my year of middle school, then it was decided that we would move until I have graduated, though during our clean up I was confused of what to do with my life and even more so by thinking of how my future is going to be like. If we look at it from a kid’s point of view, life is great because everything is already planned out for them. But, in due time we all grow up and find out what skills we all possess, in which depends on our life experience.

Many people never get to see the true me, or me at all. I often hide what I don't want people to see, so I can be seen as normal. People always see a happy, quiet and very curious 16 year old boy wandering the halls with friends in school or playing sports. Nobody really thinks or even cares about what is actually going on in my life. They only see the outer shell that I have been protecting like a mother goose being harassed by an annoying seagal. Growing up in the upper middle class many saw me as a kid that they would have never seen as a kid with any stress or problems in life, I am here to tell you no one is perfect. This is my story.

My Story….. When I was about the age of 6 years old maybe seven. I was sexually assaulted. I was at an elementary school which I will call Tree School for right now. So I had a family friend who I will call “James”. James and I were okay friends I guess. I was kind of a tomboy so I loved boxing and wrestling with boys. One day when I went to James house. We were wrestling and we decided to go upstairs because James had gotten a train for his birthday. So I went upstairs with him and asked to play with the train. At that time I didn’t really like barbies and stuff and this train was known as more of a boys kind of train but that’s not the point. Anyways so when I asked to play with the train he replied no. Of course being a stubborn

Chicago, August 21st, it ‘s been cooling and the daylight seems getting shorter. That must be a sign for the end of wonderful summer, darkness is going to take over this town for the whole harsh winter upcoming. The little boy that year is now grown and learning how to deal with tough life in a country that he has never ever imagined to be by any chance. Excuse me for not having introduced myself which made a lot confusion. It’s me, Quan. I’m 21 years old. I’m from Viet Nam, a small country somewhere in Southeast Asia which all of you wouldn’t even know where it is on the map. The only reason i’m writing this intimate narrative story about my life is doing assignment for my Composition class. My mind has pretty blown out these days

Who doesn’t love a good cliche? The good guy gets the girl, the hero beats the villain, everyone lives happily ever after. Everyone loves it, but let’s be honest, it gets boring after a while. Just imagine it though, what if a book were as unpredictable as life? Wouldn’t that be more exciting? What if you finished a series and you didn’t know if the characters were really okay, and there was no sign of a sequel coming out? It leaves you with a feeling of frustration, concern, or perhaps even panic. That right there is my favorite type of story. There’s just one problem: It’s near impossible to find those stories. Or so we are led to believe. There’s a simple solution: look around you. Everyone has their own story. You, me, the person three blocks down the road mowing their lawn. We all have our own story to tell.