Personal Narrative

The brand new Ford that my mom bought a few weeks ago fired up and rolled out of our driveway. My dad was in the passenger seat, and my mom was at the steering wheel. The front of the new car was ready to go. One of my sisters, Hannah, sat in the seat right next to me. As for my other two sisters, they sat quietly behind us, acting as if they didn’t want to be there. My sisters and I sat in silence behind our parents awaiting the long and exhausting trip that was coming before us.

The film portrays Tokyo after the destruction caused by World War III. Tokyo has now turned into neo-Tokyo, a dystopian society built from the ruins. In just thirty years the government has managed to help build the economy up, allowing the city to prosper. With all of this progress and prosperity, the people have become self centered, making a social and economic gap. The gap has grown so significant that the wealthy cling to what money they have and those on the bottom suffer with nothing. There does not seem to be much help from city officials, as well. They only focus on their own advancement, which causes problems for the citizens. Riots occur in the streets and gangs are becoming more violent resulting in terrorizing the good citizens.

It is almost noon on a sunny day in July. We just got off the plane and we are now in Denver, Colorado. My stepdad, Bill, is going to get us a rental car and we will be off to Yellowstone National Park. “How long will we be in the car?” I ask my mom. “It’ll be about eight and a half hours on the road,” she replies. This is unbelievable! First, I’m forced to deal with all of this traveling, and now I find out I have to sit eight and a half hours in a car with my family? Great, this is just great.

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.

One warm summer morning my sister, dad, and I were sitting and watching T.V. and my best friend’s dad called and invited us over for the weekend. He said

While we were settling into the motel, my father was at home. Likewise, he saw some lights on our road, figured my grandfather succeeded to get stuck, there for my father and Bobby took off with the tractor down the road, to travel to pull him out. Ten minutes later when they arrived, they

Elizabeth is sitting in the living room on the couch in her pajamas. The lights are dim and low and papers are scattered around her. The home is silent except for her fingers tapping away at the keyboard and the occasional shuffling of paper work. A notification sound comes from the computer. Elizabeth leans in and stares at the screen with her eyebrows crumpled as she reads. She leans back and her face becomes blank as she stares off into the distance. She closes the laptop, stands up and goes into the bedroom. As she approaches the bedroom door she reaches up to the top of the doorframe, grabs and object and puts it into the pocket of her pajama pants. Elizabeth enters the bedroom, climbs onto the bed, brings her knees to her chest, wraps

The flame from Nick's lighter danced in the darkness as he lit his cigarette. I faintly heard an aged man speak from the television "2 found dead in New York apartment..." I turned my attention towards the TV out of curiosity. "Autopsy shows the couple died of starvation, this is now the tenth time we have seen this similar situation..." Nick cleared his throat to speak, a puff of smoke escaped his lips and disappeared into the darkness of the room. I shifted my gaze towards him awaiting his thought. He spoke in a tired voice.

There isn’t a day in my life that I wake up and do not ask myself, “Why?” Why did my mother have to leave? Why did this happen to me? Without a doubt, the absence of my mother is the hardest obstacle I have had to overcome. My parents were young and unsure how to raise a child on their own. My mom really believed she could not do it, so she left when I was eight months old. At that age, a mother to an infant is everything, yet she was not there. I grew up not knowing the love of a mother, but learned to be independent. I did not have someone to guide me through childhood because my dad was too busy working in order to provide for us, and his family had kids of their own to worry about. Though his family loved us, they favored their own children over me and my sister. We had to do everything around the house while they did nothing. We felt as if we had no voice and no one to support us. Being in this situation made me into

I was twelve years old when my family moved to the mountains of Humboldt County we moved at the beginning of winter and my father said there would be snow where we were going to live. I had never seen snow before and I couldn’t wait to build snowmen, throw snowballs and build igloos, like I had seen children on television do. A child’s excitement blossomed at the prospect of a new winter paradise

I didn’t make any mistakes. I was the perfect gentleman every girl likes to talk about, but would run for the hills if they had to put up with a blank piece of paper. Well, the evening was over now and I was pulling up to her front door. To my surprise, her parents were waiting for the two of us with bright smiles.

In late September of 2010, was the year I learned a new word “Depression”! I was in 1st grade and everything was fun because I had no responsibilities or worries. I didn’t know how to feel grief for a long time because I was always happy. I didn’t know that a family member could own a child.

I remember the first day of my 10th grade year in high school. Walking down the small hallways that were scented with coffee, cologne, and perfume all assorted together. Right by my side was my friend named Mia Williams. Mia was Native American with long black hair that was in a French Braid, and she was around 5’7, 150 lbs. Every step we took, insisted of us bumping shoulders with other people that were walking in a different direction.

Everything that has a beginning has an ending, never have I thought to myself that my ending would be losing the family I grew up with for over 20 years. The car accident which took all their lives will forever be encrypted in my memory until the day I take my last breath on this world. I warned my father it would be dangerous to take the entire family upstate in a van but he just yelled at me. That's something I never appreciated about my father, having a different opinion than him would just lead to him yelling at me and starting a massive argument. I called him a bastard and left him with the rest of the family. That was the last thing I said to my father, now I lie here, organizing the entirety of their funeral at my expense and leaving

One night, while he was working late, my brothers stayed the night at our grandmother’s, and I went to a friend’s house. He, not knowing that we