Personal Narrative Analysis

Walking the overgrown paths in the expansive woods behind my house, I tried again to escape the claustrophobia of the cul-de-sac and the boredom of a small town. The forest was my sanctuary, and I walked knowing every rock, root, and bush. Then suddenly, it was different. My eyes hit the familiar clearing ahead, and I launched into a sprint through the underbrush, leaping up and over the barbed wire-topped rock wall. Landing with a whoop of delight, I eyed the novelty, a huge, brown steer, staring back at me. Molten joy turned to icy fear, and the steer began to charge. Thirty seconds of terror later, I noticed two things as I heaved against a maple tree: my now dung-covered shoes were ruined, and my curiosity was finally piqued.

Its been a year since I began walking these new halls with lockers on both sides of me. Although the faces that pass me look unfamiliar, i began to recognize

Once upon a time, there was an illegal immigrant named Rosa she came from a poor family and her mother left her when she was 4 years old for another man.

Rain drips down the waiting room window, it’s soothing pitter patter putting me into a trance. Drip drop, drip drop, and just for a moment, I relax. Today is the day that determines how my family’s life is going to go from here on out. A few tests will tell us whether or not I would get to keep my mother in my life or if she would be taken away from me forever. She has been having pounding headaches everyday for the last few weeks, and she’s been having moments where her vision would completely disappear, leaving her blind for a few seconds if not a full minute. I know that whatever is happening isn’t good, but I really hope it’s not what I think it is.

“Will she ever be okay?” are the words that invested within me through every minute that passed. I could not help but think the world was falling in around me and nothing would relieve the pain. My daughter had something terribly wrong, and all I could do was sit and wonder the outcome of this horrific event. The world around me began to feel suffocating as if there was no way out. I brought this precious life into this world with the mindset that I could guard her from all the cruelty and darkness. My body grew weak with each thought that crept in my mind and I could feel the chills running down my back each time the doctor came with an update. Despite everything that could go wrong, I never stopped believing that with prayer I was not fighting

Glancing at the keys and nodding, he set the metronome and tapped his foot getting the beat physically and let his fingers glide over the keys. Letting the music seep into him as he had played the complex piece over and over again demanding himself to be perfect. Striking each key was perfectly timed and showed the emotion he had made it sound sharp and crisp. Steve kept nodding as he then glanced downward he saw the ivory keys along with his fingers coated in a rich scarlet hue. His fingers bleeding. The pain shot through his fingers as the heat engulfed the slender fingers . It was the fire again! Attempting to put the fire out that now chewed at not only his fingers but the piano as well it only ended with the man sitting up in a blind

Anytime I hear someone say that I’ve changed or that I'm a lot different now than I used it be, it brings to mind a certain set of events that occurred just before I entered high school. In eighth grade I had few worries and spent most of my time playing sports. Although I made good grades, sports were my number one priority. I often wondered what I would do in my free time if I didn’t play a sport. Little did I know I would soon find out. Midway through my 8th grade football season I tore my ACL (anterior crucial ligament) . The injury required surgery and meant that I would be out of all sports for at least six months. Everyone said I'd be back on the field in no time, but six months sounded like an eternity. My goal was to complete

Statistics show that around 50% of married couples get divorced in the United States, which would make my family and I just another statistic. 8 years ago, I was only 10, my brother was barely 7, my mom decided to leave my dad. I clearly remember sitting in the car with my nana, I was a smart kid, and asking her what was going to happen with my mom and dad. She didn’t beat around the bush or talk down to me as a child, she said “I think they’ll end up divorcing.” And to many people’s surprise, I felt excited at that idea. It wasn’t that my parents constantly fought or were abusive, but somehow I knew at 10 years old that the best thing for all of us was this separation.

High school, I remember it like it was yesterday. I remember going to football practice and rushing home to finish my homework. I remember hanging out with my friends and joking around with each other during lunch time, and I remember stressing out over the test I didn’t study for. My junior year of high school however, is when things started to change for me. I became interested in furthering my education and began preparing myself for college. One morning, I went to school and met with the college counselor, to find out how to apply to colleges. She took out a sheet of paper and made a checklist for me. On that list, were the letters SAT, or ACT test scores. I asked her about it, and to my surprise, these were my “golden tickets” as she put

There was no one and nothing in sight. The plethora of joyful ducks that were here before were nowhere to be found. There weren’t even any people walking the trail like before. The trees that were once so distinguishable in daylight were now shaded in black and were only recognizable by the shape and size from a far. It seems as if when darkness falls on Higginbotham’s Walking Trail, wildlife seems to scatter and the area becomes desolate.

It was august of 2011 I was 5 years old in kindergarten, I had anxiety attacks but I made it through. I was crying I couldn’t stay but I did every day my anxiety is caused I worry too much about my mother. First grade it was good. I didn’t cry as much I had the best teacher ever Mrs.Delrio she liked me a lot too. Second grade I cried a lot it was really hard my teacher new my family a lot because she had my siblings before. I cried a lot when my mom dropped me off but when I got there I was fine. Third grade it was really hard I cried in the morning and my teacher wasn’t very nice. Fourth grade it was a good year I didn’t cry as much my teacher was really nice she was a math teacher she was very good at her job she taught me a lot she was the

My mind teleporting itself to multiple universes is a constant in my life. Each individual universe is connected in a fractal-like fashion, consisting of spindly chains of universes in arms not unlike the Milky Way’s spiral arms. Imagine the famous Mandelbrot Set: narrowing in on a particular point will reveal the set’s characteristic bulbous shape, but scaled down; in the same way, zooming in on a set of temporally-linked universes will eventually reveal a branching-out shape not unlike the central shape of the multiverse.

A long white and cold road trip. It was about 5 years back. My family and I were heading to Wyoming for spring break. Worst. Mistake. Ever.

When I woke up it was morning and the rain had slowed to a drizzle, the rest of my family was just waking up too.

It's funny, how I never really thought about the correct way to word a sentence or a phrase until I was being graded harshly on it. Growing up in a household that spoke two different languages, grammar was never really that important to me. My goal was to speak both English and Spanish fluently, it didn't matter if it wasn't grammatically correct. As long as the words sounded good next to each other, then, of course, it made sense! Right?