Personal Narrative Analysis

When I was in high school, I held the upmost conviction that I, alone, was completely different from everyone else. I knew deep down that I couldn’t place

No matter where one goes on this dismal chunk of rock, one will probably encounter an outsider. In high school lunchrooms there is always at least one poor, sad teenager who has the unlucky seat next to the trash can. In parks and school playgrounds there is always that one melancholy kid that provides a stark contrast from the joyful shouts and screams coming from the other playing children. The experience of being an outsider is an inescapable universal condition that can be caused through social class, appearance, or other factors.

Everyone was talking to each other and I was just standing in the corner of the cafeteria completely alone. I was unable to open my lips, it felt like someone had super glued them together. I felt completely alienated, it was like I was apart of a movie, but not actually apart of the scene. Listening to everyone speak made me extremely anxious, I had honed in on the conversation of a near by group of kids talking about how they were excited to start high school. I wanted to go and speak to them so bad, but I had kept my lips shut for so many years, I doubted that I would be able to communicate effectively with my peers. Just as I had finished processing those thoughts in my mind, the bell rung, school had finally started, I proceeded with my schedule til lunch without saying a word to

When I was thinking about what I wanted to write about my experience as an outsider, all that came to my head is my experience so far in college. Every adult in my life told me before I came to Fitchburg that “oh everyone will like you” or “these are the friends you have for the rest of your life”. I came into college with high hopes and

I always knew I was different or didn’t fit in as well as my other classmates. I mean, sure I talked, dressed and pretty much looked like everyone else, but my ethnic background made me think I couldn’t succeed in life because I was born in a foreign country. Whenever people would talk about immigration at school, I would became very uncomfortable and sit silently. It felt like all eyes were on me, but when I would look around no one was actually staring. They were concentrated on their work or staring off into space.

Ever since third grade, I was different from the other kids in the classroom. The other kids always teased me and called me names like, “Nerd!”, and “Smarty-pants” because I was the youngest one in the grade. This torment continued to haunt me through all the schools that I went to. In school, I was anti-social because of my gap that separated me from my peers. This seemed like a barrier that I couldn’t face, and I wouldn’t have been able to do it if I wasn’t determined, or if I had great friends that helped me along the way.

Ever since I can remember, I have always been the odd one out; or at least it always felt like I was in my own distinct universe. All the way until my Freshman year of High School, very little, with the exception of school, had my even remote interest. While other children my age would pass the day playing sports, or having a social life, I would shy away from all forms of interaction. However, it is not that I did not want attention, it was just that I did not see the point in focusing on something other than the important things in life. It would be years later in my first year of high school that I learned the importance of all aspects of life, from academics to social interactions. Regardless of how long it took for me to figure out my place in this world, my quest to reveal my true identity has only just

Before the age of three I had an array of tests performed on me that most people do not have in a lifetime, including ultrasounds, MRIs, CAT scans, and endoscopies. However, none of the tests told the doctors what was wrong. They could not figure out what was causing me, starting at only one years old, to throw up starting at 3 A.M. and ending at 12 P.M., at least two nights a week. This went on for years. My parents and I became accustomed to these recurring “episodes” because medications only worked for so long, eventually my body would become used to them and the doctors would have to figure out what to prescribe me next. By the age of ten, I had outgrown my mysterious illness, but, I am still working to outgrow all of the struggles it

Your existence, which includes never having experienced the negative effects of transformation is more than ideal. Conversely, despite the sector, previous colleagues and I have resorted to fear and anxiety as it relates to impending job loss. None the less, any anxiety or depression was misplaced. Moreover, in most instances each transformation exhibited successful outcomes, and later proved to be assets to the prospective organizations, and to the members forced to utilize any new procedures.

This feeling of being unwanted along with the feeling of insecurity, caused by the financial struggles my family, as the first generation, had while trying to start a life in a completely different country, pressured my true personality. I began to talk less, thinking that it would help take some burden off my parent's shoulders. These feelings completely endowed my childhood. It was to a point that I had already forgotten how to socialize with people and became extremely introverted that I started to acknowledge what I was enduring.

I knew I was different, even at school, I would always get in trouble for the most stupid reasons. Whenever we learned about the small amount of history that we were allowed to be informed about, I would never fully understand why something happened. So like any student, I would raise my hand, ask my question, and hopefully get an answer. Although, it was apparently different with me because once my question left my mouth, I was yelled at over and over again. And each response from the professor would basically be “Because it did now shut up”. And of course this only worsened once my dad died and had a mental breakdown and started to interrogate everything. Even among my peers, I was more... what’s the word I want to use... socially out there?

As a child, I had always been the outcast. I often found myself hiding in the bathroom during recess to avoid the embarrassment when kids wouldn’t let me play with them. During lunch I ate at a table with a group of kids who, with me, were rejected by the others. No one wanted me in their cliques. My peers would make fun of me because I had a speech impediment or because I looked a lot chunkier than the average fourth grader. Everyone avoided talking to me, unless they wanted to make fun of me. My teachers were my only friends, which made people poke fun at me even more, calling me the “teachers pet”. I will admit I seemed very awkward as a child, but regardless I was a child who felt abandoned and worthless. I didn’t look or talk how everyone else did. Because I looked different, I was rejected.

It was an aching solitude. I sat in silence, ensnared within my chaotic mind while everyone’s elated voices stretched across the classroom like a contagious disease but my immunity was too study to catch a speck of it. I was never a big fan of change, especially ones that strike you without any warning. The transition from elementary to junior high wasn’t the challenging part for me, it was the fact that I felt alone. It never occurred to me that everything was temporary, even friendships.

Growing up my social status affected the way that I viewed myself compared to my peers. When I was in the 1st grade, I would have to wear my brother’s shoes that he outgrew. He was younger than me by two years, but his feet were bigger. I would be made fun of by my peers because I was a girl wearing boy shoes. My mom had financial issues that would cause us to move and change schools a lot. Whenever I would find a group of people to fit in with it seemed that we would have to move again. Entering a new school, I would have to try and find myself within a group so I could belong. One of the problems was that I was shy and my family did not have a lot of money. I noticed in the schools I went to other new kids who were deemed pretty or had

As a child, I had always been the outcast. I would find myself hiding in the bathroom during recess to avoid the embarrassment when kids wouldn’t let me play with them. I sat at a table at lunch with a group of kids who were rejected by the others as well. No one wanted me in their cliques. My peers would make fun of me because I had a speech impediment or because I was a lot taller and chunkier than the average fourth grader. Everyone avoided talking to me, unless it was to make fun of me. Teachers were my only friends which made people hate me even more, calling me the “teacher's pet”. I will admit I was a very awkward child, but regardless I was a child who felt abandoned and worthless. I didn’t look or talk how everyone else did and since I was different, I was rejected.