Personal Narrative

My eyes fluttered open and I found myself there again. I always find myself in the same place, stuck in the exact moment of time when it all happened. I struggled to get a hold of myself. Is this a memory or am I still in Afghanistan?

I slowly sit up and rest my back against the headboard of my old bed. Closing my eyes and taking everything in that has happen since I’ve woken up. Being in my old room, brings back a lot of memories of when I used to live here as a child. Moments with James, moments with my mum. I let a tear escape my eye, quickly wiping it away. I can’t let it get to me anymore. It was five years ago. A few more tears escape and I go to whip it away again when light bounces off the scars on my arm.

At the start of my last year in middle school, a transfer student from China who was unfamiliar with English mustered up all her courage, approached me, and introduced herself with the best English she could manage. This action would later on welcome me to witness her world of resilience. Her name was Amy, and throughout her journey through eighth grade, she faced a lot of adversity with peers around her. No matter how difficult the obstacle was, she had always pushed through with all her effort. This narrative will introduce the resilience that Amy portrayed throughout her first year of school in America.

Have you ever performed in front of a lot of people? Well I had to at my music teachers guitar concert. It was a big challenge I faced. I was really frightened because there was a lot of people and I was worried that I would mess up. In fact I was so frightened that my shirt was all wet and my hands were shaking. No matter what I did I couldn't calm myself down. From this I learned that I had stage fright, but I was still brave enough to face it.

The sand is cold, the sky overcast, and the waves crash against the shore echoing harshly through my ears. I see clouds rolling overhead, I can smell the salt of the ocean, feel the texture of the sand, taste the electricity on the air and it all points to the coming storm. Is it real? Can anything be real when seen through someone else's eyes, felt through someone else's skin, tasted through someone else's tongue, Breathed through someone else's nose, heard through someone else's ears? This is what the world looked like to her, felt like to her, but what did it look like to me, feel to me? Was there ever a me or only this continually changing sculpture, patterns of a person and nothing more. I shivered as the cold air caressed the flesh I wore.

I find myself on the rough carpet I had fallen on when the piercing screams of the alarm began. Beside me, the man who had murdered my mother has a tight grip on my arm, preventing me from lunging at him again, or causing myself any more bodily harm. I realize that I had passed out, or at least day dreamt of Xavier while I was on the ground screaming for someone to help me.

It had been around 42 days. I had no way to know when the sun was rising or setting; I only had my sense of time. They came in every day and gave me a small loaf of bread, some sort of meat, and only enough water to wash down my food. It was not enough to give me strength only enough to keep me alive. I was not sure where I was or even how I got there. The only thing I knew was that I wished I could go back home to my loving family.

School was letting out for summer and there was pure excitement in the air, or at least that’s what I thought. I was 15 years old and I had a huge summer in store since I got my first car and I could drive anywhere I wanted. I always had a great relationship with my grandfather ‘Pop’ and since he lived in town we did a lot of stuff together. He was 79 years old, but you couldn’t tell it because of his energy and health. I knew ‘Pop’ had been sick but I never thought twice about it, because he had always been really healthy. Being the young stupid kid I was I never went to check on him because it was summer and I would hate to miss out on something with my friends. That was my immature mindset, which made me feel very lonely for the majority

A rainy Saturday filled with a bit of cleaning, a lot of work and a constant rain, the hubs and I found ourselves with a hankering for burgers. Of course downtown has options, but we also wanted to get home just in case the downpour decided to continue. One never knows in Michigan after all.

This I believe that there is a God, and he is watching over us, and helping us everyday with the problems of everyday life, whether it be an illness, break-up, school pressure, and even helping people make the right choices in life, because some people face greater consequences for things they done in the moment and didn't think of the consequences or what would happen if they did something they knew that was wrong but, didn’t think about the possible consequences of their choices.

It was the final night of the camping trip. My family had come to the woods, and having spent two days toughing it out in a tent, we decided to treat ourselves and stay in a cabin. The day was well spent and included fishing, roasting marshmallows, and playing games with my mom, dad, and little sister, Payton. Understandably, all four of us were exhausted. Things started to go wrong when I entered the cabin bedroom.

I sat in the rain for over an hour at my spot tonight, looking past the slate boulders and fallen trees of the forest I have grown to love so much. It's a good thinking spot. It's been my safe place to go when I cannot love myself. I use it often, if one would like to know. It's been raining all day, but I don't mind; it was fully worth the wet butt just to collect my thoughts outside.

After all movement stopped but the trembling of my clammy hands and chilly legs, I knew more than one impact had just occurred.

It all began last Friday. The time was nearing midnight, but the television was still blaring infomercials and crime shows. My older sister, Laura, and I had been watching movies for the past few hours.

I was laughing so hard my mom took her hand and hit me on the back.But I didn’t care all I cared was that my brother fell on the concrete.He was crying, but I just kept on laughing, I don’t know why but I did.My brother got mad at me and started screaming at me, but I kept on laughing over and over.I finally got over it when he told me he’ll kick the basketball to the neighbors.He was bleeding not a lot, but he was bleeding.After that me my mom and he just kept on playing basketball.I was too young to know not to laugh all I thought was funny I laughed even when It has been unnecessary.Me writing, he has made me remember lots of things from the past, so I thought of two that were really meaningful to me one where I almost got in a lot of trouble and another when I was extremely scared.