Personal Narrative

One day my cousins had visited us from Texas . We all wanted to go to Wet N Wild .Then I had asked my dad if he could take us to Wet N Wild . Then he said ,"yes", but we will go on a Saturday . Then Saturday comes.It was a very sunny day with a bit of wind.

The sparks fly in the air, there are marshmallows in your hair, and you’re with your favorite people in the world. This is called the best place on earth, for me at least. I enjoy camping so very much, you meet new people, experience different things, make new memories, and have a blast. You also see new sights, smell some things, and always wake up to the birds singing and not the bustling streets of the city. Camping is my go to activity.

The most important game of the year was coming up and I was ready. Everything was going perfect for me, because I was the starting QB as a freshmen at Englert High School. We were playing Joston High School the number 1 team in the nation since 1960, it was going to be a tough game because they had the number 1 ranked defense, but we had the best offense. The day before the game was just a normal day I went to school and had football practice after school. A couple weeks ago one of the other teams that we had played earlier in the year wanted another game so we decided to play them. They had been the hardest team we had played all year, we had only beat them by a last efforts field goal it hardly went in as it bounced in off the crossbar.

I think about it for a moment. "Thanks for the offer babe, but I'd rather fly this one solo" I reply to him.

I go to the woods to calm down ,take a break from the drama. My dad used to take me to this special spot where these rocks split and you can stem to the top of them and sit down. For some reason the view and the feel is so peaceful. There's a dip in the rock perfect size for my body. I'll kick back and look up at the sky and sometimes, it’s rare though i’ll listen to music and sometimes fall asleep and when I wake up i'm refreshed and calm. Sometimes i'll stay there after i'm calm and just chill and sometimes if a friend comes over well sometimes go over there and we'll play around on the rocks and talk and after a little bit of hanging out we will go back inside and play my PS4 for a little bit and after the gaming we are still bored we

I was not an intentionally bigoted twelve-year-old. I was raised in an affluent suburban community where the vast majority of people are white. The 100% white private nursery school which I attended was chosen by my parents largely due to its proximity to our home. My public elementary school was about 70% white as it was populated with students who resided nearby. Finally, the private middle school which I attended, located almost an hour from my home, provided me with exposure to the most diverse student body of my youth as it was comprised of about 65% Caucasian children. What each of these formative academic experiences shared in common was both that their student bodies were disproportionately Caucasian, as well as that their senior administrators

Every student is excited when school starts. New classes, new backpacks, new clothes, and seeing all your friends is a part of this excitement. The first few weeks are new; no homework, plenty of free time, etc. But after two or three months, school isn’t cool anymore. The homework piles up, the tests are being printed, but how much stress can you take before it’s too much?

In the beginning of third grade was so exciting because I will get to see my friends. But when I got home my parents told me and my brother that we are moving. I was really excited at first because it was my first time moving.

I wish I could tell you all of this in person but I know if I try I’ll probably get very nervous and forget some small details that I would really like to tell you, and those are probably the most important to me. I saw you for the first time on February 23 at the valentines party, and that was such a fortunate thing to go to because I was able to get free food, have a good time, see old friends I haven’t seen since last semester, but most importantly I was able to see you. I didn’t know who you were at the time, but I knew you were like a very sweet, funny, caring, smart, and very beautiful just from your appearance. I first noticed you when you sat across from me when we were playing charades, and that’s when I knew that I wanted to get to

My life began in Manhattan, New York in January of the year 1977. I was born to a 21 year old Irish American mother, Catherine Cunningham, and a 60 year old Sicilian American father, Anthony Perniciaro. My parents came from very different backgrounds. My mother’s family was relatively wealthy and affluent. My father was born and raised in Brooklyn. His parents were extremely poor immigrants that were seriously affected by the Great Depression. My father was a bricklayer and an artist when he met my mother, who was just starting her life, being only a few years out of high school.

I was designated out of necessity. My older brother was sent to prison the year before she was diagnosed. My twin sister was married at the time with three small children and my younger brother was only 16 years old. Therefore, I tried to become everything that she needed. Helping her through her battle would prove to me that life is too short to not pursue my dreams.

Opening the link, I was hit with instant nostalgia, memories of my grandfather calling me to the living room, rambling about a man with no limbs. I remember sitting there with him, smiling as a result of my grandfather being passionate about Nick and his seminars, tuning in time to time, listening to the voice over translation in spanish. At the time, I didn't fully understand what my grandfather meant when he said he was an inspiration and how he gives hope to others, as I was a relatively cheerful (snobby for the lack of a better word) pre-teen. I went along with it, hoping to somehow get out of watching this man as it was translated in Spanish and it took quite the effort for me to piece the words and sentences together.

I look around the dark room, watching my allies. One sharpening one of his swords, another punching a bag of sand. And another boy in the window looking down over the city. I sit in the corner, just watching them. All I can think is, how did I become a fugitive of the entire country? I stand up and wander to the door.

I was running, far too scared to turn around and see who was chasing me, though I already knew. They are the ones that killed my parents. At the age of six, two days before my birthday and the Induction Ceremony, they burnt down my house, with my mother and father in it. “Why me? Who did this? What do I do now? I’m so scared.” Those were the only things running through my mind when I heard what had happened. I was at school that day, it was a Friday and we were celebrating my birthday in school, as it would fall on an off day, and I remember seeing Headmaster Greene walk in, his face was more emotionless than usual as he spoke with my teacher at the time. Professor Reynolds walked over to me, while we were painting, I could tell she was upset,

A blank page stares up at me. I wish it would just fill its blue shelves all by itself like the overflowing letter beside it. But the pen remains hovering over it, no words to fuel it into action.