Who Are You?: A Fictional Narrative Essay

The students drew near as I reluctantly scurried towards the young mens bathroom where I could finally be alone. At the time, I lived in the snowy areas of northern New York, and while attending the infamous middle school, all of my worries in the world were heightened by 200%. From the first day of school, I wanted to fit in. While not even knowing what “fitting in” was, I was determined to do it. I desired to be liked by everyone around me with no worries in the world. I didn’t know that ironically, you couldn’t have both. As I tried to fit in, I noticed that others would flee from me in the halls as if I had an odor of a thousand pounds of garbage. I was confused why others would shy away from me in projects and hallways until the hints

“Don't count the days, make the day’s count” was expressed by Muhammad Ali. This quote indisputably explains that, you should make the best of your days and not let them go by. Muhammad Ali is widely regarded as one the most significant and celebrated sports figures of the twentieth century. Muhammad Ali is a fascinating person because he stood up for what he believed in, known worldwide, and achieved a lifetime of accomplishments.

You want to know what shaped/molded me as student. Wow, that's a funny qurstion! I believed I didn't know what made me who I am, but as I look back and forth, I realized, it was me. I am my own motivation. I don't look up to anyone, I just look forward to something. I am a believer, dreamer, achiever, and wonderer. As I look around me and see how my family and others of a different and same ethnicity living their whole life on a budget, barely making ends meet, I tell myself I will be better and become better. I will not let my surroundings select or change the way I am. When I was younger, I believed everything would just come and fall into my arms. I wanted to be all of the occupations I seen on TV. I planted in my head that I would be a

Jackie and I were now halfway to where Mike’s car wreck took place, on Highway 46. The accident must have been pretty bad because it was reported on the news, a rare case, I thought to myself. I prayed Mike was going to be ok. The drive felt like it was taking hours to get to the scene . I could feel the tension in the car growing. The fact that one of our closest friends could be gravely injured was a slug shot from a shotgun into our chests. Jackie was still distressed as she drove; tears dripped from her eyes like droplets from a cool water bottle on a hot day.

There was something wrong with the car, once it kept bouncing up and down for the past 5 minutes and it also kept turning sharply by itself. Poppa finally had enough, and went to check what it was. He came back, shaking, and I could see tears starting to form in his eyes. He said the pipes are completely filled with dust, and rocks, and there is no way we can move. We started to freak out, because we have no way to get home, and there is a chance we never see tomorrow. We were on State Street, at least I knew that, even though that doesn’t help out the

I sat by myself in the second seat behind the bus driver. It had been raining all day and we rambled along slowly, splashing the sides of the bus with dirt and mud, with each puddle we drove through. A large puddle, almost a lake, comes view. We slow down easing toward the pond. “Are we going around?” I shout up at the bus driver. Our driver glances in the mirror at our at anxious faces, and a smile slowly spreads up his face.

Sitting alone crying in the early hours of what was now a new day, was a young girl of only sixteen feeling as empty as the bitter souls that convinced her it was okay. It’s not anything but flesh and it has no soul, once it’s all over you can go back to the normal teenage life you once had they said. They lied, as much as I tried convincing myself its nothing, the agony of knowing what I’d done hung in the back of my mind. We live in a generation were premarital sex and teen pregnancy is seen as the norm, leading to a lot more abortions in which I feel most teens are pressured into having by either their parents or partner. Not only does this create a lot psychological and emotional issues in a teen’s life but it also leaves them with no voice and no choice.

“It may not be a big deal to you because you’re not the one who has to give consent to end the life of the person who gave your life.”

moved closer to her, the car door between us as she fiddled around inside, looking for something. I leaned my ass against the door and folded my arms under my chest, glancing around to look for anyone. All I saw was a group of people leaving the restaurant and heading for their cars, directly across from me in the main parking lot.

It was three o’clock in the afternoon of January 17th 1995. Dick Daverin was sitting in his office, reading the newspaper.

I worked away for the rest of the afternoon, then went home, got dressed (begrudgingly, as Jeffrey was stretched out across my bed taking a nap), and arrived at the bar around 9PM (as the email told me). I had avoided the Raleigh rush hour traffic by a good few hours (if I had left at 7PM, it would've taken me until 9PM to get there anyways!). It wasn't a bad looking place; maybe a little older than the buildings surrounding it, but I felt safe parking my car in the parking lot and not carrying in my pepper spray.

It was a gloomy Monday morning. The trees swayed back and forward in the dim, murky

“No! I’m the driver. I decide where we GO!!!” Glenda veered off the road onto an unmarked dirt path, the bus gaining speed. There was a startled cry in the bus and when I looked, back I saw my friends telling everyone

“Hurry or you will miss the bus, Again!” My mom caringly yelled. I nodded even thought she couldn 't see me and ran out the door. Running on a small burst of energy only got me past two houses. I stopped for breath before running again. Feeling the soles of my feet hit the pavement although I 'm wearing shoes. My brain goes into imagination mode and the Earth shifts. The ground that I step on melts away under my feet causing me to run faster. A zombie rolls out from the bush as I run even faster. My messenger bag hitting my side. I reached my bus stop and the world goes back normal. “Thank you. . . For what ever that was, Imagination, I 'm very lucky to still have you,” I thought silently as I boarded the bus. I take my seat as the driver takes off. Starring out my window and plugging in my headphones, I ignore my surroundings. It only feels like a few seconds, but we pull up into hell — I mean, School. High school to be exact. We get off at the entrance and my two friends are there waiting on me. Nico brightens up as he nudges a figure next to him. The figure looks up and I can recognize that face

I felt like i got stab with a arrow in my heart I said to myself,”How could he lied to me after all the trust I gave him.” I asked the lady where was Jerry in this moment the lady gave me no answer. I was frustrated I wanted to know where was Jerry I wanted to ask him why did he lied to me. Suddenly I little girl passed by she was wearing a old dress with some black and pinkish polka dots I stopped her and ask if she new a boy named Jerry she replayed with a “yes”I ask her do you know where he could be right now! she said “he went for a walk” I said thank you and a goodbye. I when out of the orphanage and to the cabinet I had rented I expected to see Jerry there and yes my expectations were right when I got there Jerry was sitting down outside of the cabinet with his head down.