Personal Narrative-An-Me

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.

Baghdad, Iraq is where I was born and raised; I lived there for about 6 years during the most pivotal years of the war. My dad left when I was about 7 months. He went to Lebanon to live for a few years before settling in the United States. My mom took care of me and my siblings. War was going on in Iraq; people walked with a dying heart. Iraq was split into Shiite, Sunni, and Christianity. Sunni and Shiite do not have any issues with one another, but there are people who do not like the Shiites and caused civil strife between the two divisions of Islam. My family is Shiite and we do not believe in a separation between anyone because we are one, they are

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.

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.

I arrived at practice with my shoes laced, hair pulled back, and the mindset that I was unstoppable. I could play against every member of my team and come out the victor on any given day. It was the first day of practice that week, and challenge matches were scheduled to begin. The team went through our daily shuffle of drills, conditioning, and running to prepare for what was lying ahead. While warming up with my friends, I felt great, talking about homecoming, boys, and a variety of irrelevant events. I felt ready. The odds were in my favor and nobody could stop me.

It was near the end of my 8th grade school year, about 2 month away from graduation, when something I never expected to happen actually happened. This event really changed my life forever and shaped me into who I am as a person today. I had just arrived at my house after school when my parents received a call that my grandma was ill and that we should come down to check on her. As we rushed down to my grandparents house, my family was deeply concerned about what may have happened because my grandma had never really had many health issues before this. As we arrived at their house and walked through the door, we were greeted with the sight of my grandma sitting in a chair with a blanket around her while she was sleeping. My family’s first reaction

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.

My day starts out like most of a dollar’s day starts. As I rest in my owners wallet. He grabs his wallet and slides it in his back right-hand pocket, with me included. This is how my journey begins.

Racing at night going One-hundred and forty miles an hour on US-27 holding the lead, Shift six gear, speed topped out at two-hundred miles per hour passing by cars smoothly. I chanted I am immortal, I am a god! while I pushed my sports bike to its limit. Suddenly a black car approaches. WHAM! I get Rammed from behind and lose control of my bike slamming into a Semi-truck up ahead. Lights out. When I peeked my eyes, I saw 4 humans around me. Thump after thumb I believe I was in an ambulance rushing down the turnpike. I looked around and the first words that came to my head are “Rick this is just a dream”. This is the story of how I escaped from an illegal laboratory that clones and modifies humans.

I love living in a small town, it gives me a sense of guaranteed safety and simplicity.

I barely slept, ate on the run, and by the time the week drew to a close, I had accumulated close to twenty thousand dollars due to perseverance, and resiliency. Also, with Tyche on my side, I was able to rent an economical two bedroom apartment with plenty of sunlight, four blocks from ‘Ink it Baby’, and secured a job waiting tables at Harry’s Diner, two blocks from my abode.

I went to Fordham Preparatory School a private, Jesuit, all-male high school located in the Bronx, New York City. My school has many aspects that make me like and dislike it. I had to wear a suit jacket, tie, and dress pants as my uniform which I did not like. Not being able to choose what I wanted to wear was frustrating and I felt very restricted. I also felt part of a set wearing the same clothes as everyone else. I am very glad that I am able to wear what I wish in college.

This is a story how my life changed dramatically at the age of fifteen. It all started On February 16, 2006, in a small country called Guyana. It was a rainy day, when all of a sudden I heard a loud knock on the door bang! Bang! It was the mailman with a package for my mom; in the package had a letter with my name on it. Mother yelled “come here nekita read this for me” As I opened the letter, I was a bit curious as to what might be inside, so I began to read when I said “oh my god mom it’s from the embassy” suddenly there were a scared look on my mother’s face. “She said continue reading Nekita” the letter said I had an appointment to go into the embassy to collect my visa to come live with my dad and there were a few things we needing to

As I begin to recollect past experiences and events growing up, Thanksgiving is the holiday that appears most meaningful. I choose to illuminate Thanksgiving because this is a time when family and friends would forget their worries and differences and collectively came together at grandmother’s house to partake of the Gullah dishes. Furthermore, it serves as a vehicle in stimulating family health and wellbeing, while passing on the identity of the family throughout generations. As I reminiscence, I can recall the air was bursting with love, hugs, laugher and kisses; a sight to behold. Grandmother’s house was small but no one seemed to care as it was inviting. Every area of the house was utilized from the kitchen to the narrow stairway that lead upstairs to the bedrooms. Children were outside playing working up an appetite although there was a chill in the air often going unnoticed, still we were bundled in our hats, coats and mittens. This was not a formal affair but we were all neatly dressed. The house was filled with distinct smells that was heavenly. Steam came from the kitchen as finishing touches were placed on meals. Watching my aunts sweat trying to maneuver in a tight kitchen hoping to avoid bumping into one another was hilarious, but I paid close attention for one day that would be me

It was 10 years ago, when I was just a little boy. At that time, my mom had so much work at her office and she just couldn’t come back home until 9 p.m. In my family, my mom was the only one who could prepare food and cook. So when she called my dad and said that she couldn’t come back home early to cook a meal for me and my father, we thought that we were having the biggest problem in