Personal Narrative: Dealing With Darkness

I am no longer one of the people in the darkness. I have escaped the delusion. Through the pain in my

“Hello” I shout. “Anybody there” I yell into the darkness. My voice echoes far into the darkness of the world beyond. I don’t know where I am, and I don’t know who I am. Each day I sit here calling out into the dark hoping to see the light. I am trapped. I travel each and every hour searching for light or a means to escape this perilous abyss. I wait for the light to reappear each day, small slivers of light at first. But, eventually the bright gleaming rays of light pierce the abyss.

I’m bound into a vicious cycle of obscurity so deep that the choice was luminous. I seem less than myself, but at the same time, I can feel relaxed- even self-righteous, believing that I, a mere mortal, am immanent within this existing plane… And, I ask, Why must we face reality and not become lost in the gray abyss of our mind when it returns to the dawn of darkness from whence it came? Truly, it is comforting there…

I never thought I would be labeled an outsider, a misfit even. As I trudged my way through the halls of my small town high school, I would endure the gazing pairs of eyes, that belonged to my peers, followed by whispering and often times some laughter. I always used zone out during those repetitive speeches and commercials about the effects of gossiping and rumors; never did I imagine that one day I would be on the receiving end of of the everyday potshot. Growing up I was always the center of attention, the one everyone yearned to be friends with, never was I the antisocial child in the corner with nowhere to turn… not until high school. They say high school changes you. They say high school accounts for some of the greatest years of

I’ve always been an outsider, it’s been hard for me to build friendships and relationships. Not too long ago, there I sat in the corner of the room in the way back, trying to hide from the world, and be myself. I didn’t really want to get involved with anything or anyone. I was afraid to open up, talk to others, maybe because I was afraid to get rejected. Until, I met the best people I could ever meet, my best friends Marisa Mendoza, Jessica Contreras and Deseray Reyes, the ones who up to this day have sticked by my side, at my best, and worst moments. They have all been a big part of my life, I can enjoy every minute I spend with them. For me, they aren’t only my friends they are like my sisters.

There are lost souls who wander out of the ring of light, fools who wonder what is in the darkness, what the darkness is. There are always those who don’t listen to sense and wisdom and leave the right of light, who turn their back on the fire, and venture outwards. They wander alone, stumble and grope their way through the inky wilderness, blindly picking their way over terrains they will never see. Sometimes they will hear another – footsteps, ragged breathing – and they will wonder if it is a human like them or something never meant to be seen in the light. Sometimes they will brush hands with another person, and sometimes those two will go on together. If they are lucky, they might find a few more, and each holding onto the other, they will find their way

The darkness is slowly scaring me making me feel overwhelmed. I can’t see anything. I feel suffocated and musty with all these boxes stocked next to me and on top of me. I’ve been here for so long and I feel so hopeless and useless. Then suddenly a bright light shines on me and I finally feel free from this very comfortless home. I wish someone would open this lid on top of me so I can breath in fresh air. But here I am staying strong and just patiently waiting. Then suddenly, I am lifted, opened, and place on top of a flat surface. I feel so nervous. I am hearing human voices. My wish is granted. It is my time, and I am free!

So you might be wondering “how did it ruin and save your life?” well it goes like this. When I was growing up I was introduced to gospel and country music. I then shook both off and went to rap and hip hop. Once I tried those I started to change. I was noticing that a lot of what I was taught I was also throwing right out the door. I did change from it but here is how the story goes.

Of the year 1975, within Philadelphia, the champ become victorious, knocking out my hopes, dreams, and memory. That moment had played about a thousand times in my head, giving me guilt of not trying hard enough. Both me and my pockets were empty, with and exeption of a rusty old dime. Ignoring these shameful incidents, I have accepted reality and truth to conclude the fight is not only during the match. I have risen up from the dark pit to grasp the glory within the rings. Of tomorrow, that positive feeling has caused me to run to the boxing gym of the early morning. Despite the anger and pain, I fought overnight with sweat dripping down my face as I slowly rose out of my unwanted

Where are the prayers when those suffering don't look like you? Where is the outrage when the victims don't pray like you? Why don’t we cry when the hurt don’t live like you? In the days since the City of Lights was rocked by more horrific attacks, there have been hundreds of articles written, thousands of opinion pieces published, and millions of statuses shared. I, like so many others was fixated on the TV screen, my thumbs scrolling through my Twitter newsfeed, as the attacks played out on realtime over the internet and the airwaves.

rent study supports the premise that women and men in management have at least equal claim to transformational leadership.

When arranging my shadow experience, I looked to my supervisor for information regarding who to contact on the outreach team. I was given the name of an Occupational Therapist who could accommodate my learning experience, in which I emailed to set up an appropriate time upon approval from their manager. Due to time constraints, I was given the opportunity to do two home visits in the morning with clients that had been on the seventh-floor as inpatients. This was chosen to give me the experience of transition from the hospital to their home and the gaps within the system. Before going on my shadow experience, I made sure to get best practices and the job description of the individual being shadow’s job to help assist pre-job shadow time. The

In seventh grade, my classmates and I had to paint two pictures for our art class. Everyone had to do their own pair of paintings, and my teacher said that only a select few could go into the art gallery in my town, open to the public. We had to make one with a monochromatic color scheme, and one with a cool or warm color scheme. I chose black and white for the first one, and cool colors for my second. My first painting went as planned, and my teacher selected it to be part of th eart gallery collection. The second one, however, had some issues.

move, but I am restrained. I listen, but I hear nothing. I smell but I

As stated before many people get so lost in sorrow that it encompasses their life. I turned into one of these people, and there is point where one encapsulates their own quandaries. When we sit in darkness we feel as if there is no light to be seen even