Personal Narrative

On 10/02/2017 at 0017 hours, units were dispatched to 627 Central Ave for a report of a Domestic involving a knife. I responded at emergency speed, priority one. Upon my arrival, I located the accused female in the bathroom.

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.

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.

Were I to name one thing unique about me, it would be that I’m one of the only people I know who can say from experience which is more difficult; writing a personal essay or surviving a life-or-death, take-no-prisoners spy shootout, complete with a crowd of bad guys, laser guns, and of course, a hero and a sidekick. I’m the sidekick.

I wake up at 5:30, five days a week, and each time I try to cram in five extra minutes, I end up having a late start to my day.

"Oh? How bad you've been? You've been so bad you need to be punished? You've been so bad you need to be spanked?

It seemed as if we had only been at school for about an hour before it was time for

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.

This story is going to be about this one halloween and it was truly terrifying for me at least. This will take place when i was about nine years old and the year was 2014. It started out as every day and it was like any normal day and it was halloween and i had to go to school so here was this big party at the end of the day and we were going to have a 5 day weekend. So everybody was excited and it was party time there was a big school party then there was a classroom party. We were just waiting for recess so that the party would start cause they scheduled the party after recess and lunch. It was only twenty minutes after rescues and our teacher took 18 minutes to take us back inside.

In the middle of August, during my transition from sophomore year to junior year, I started working with my grandfather with his investment business. My grandfather lacked most computer literacy, so I was mainly there to print out reports for his three person company. Working for my grandfather would later set me up with the opportunity to take my first step towards adulthood.

The girl who I’d grown up with since preschool had a small tremble in her hands and couldn’t write legibly. Being bullied at a young age and didn’t pick up a pencil for the rest of elementary school, took its toll. But she sung the loudest songs and kept you on the edge of your seat with the passion that flowed from her vocal chords. She could talk for hours on end and listen just as well. She did all her work vocally and may have gotten the best grade in the class. Never giving excuses and always taking the hard route, and continued humming along the way.

I’m just a tall, skinny, little girl. The confidence level in myself is very low, and it’s hard for me to find friends that actually like me for who I am. I walk in these brick doors almost every morning wondering what today will be like. The cold air hits your face as one would walk into Mrs. Price’s classroom. I sit at my light, wood colored desk hearing all the little voices around me. Suddenly, my ears feel as if they were going to burst. Mrs. Price yelled at the top of her lungs.

Time passed as I remained in that kitchen chair. Until the doorbell broke me out of my continuous, horrific train of thoughts, that is.

My family and I love searching for junk in our neighborhood. We don’t often come across something reusable, but what we do find becomes a treasured part of our household for many years. In Australia, junk removal is more commonly known as “white-goods collection” where people place their unwanted fridges, dishwaters, and driers on the front lawn for council pick-up trucks to dispose of. Opportunities such as this only come around twice every year, so one could imagine the occasion to be very hectic for many suburban communities. At the peak of collection season, junk piles would grow so large that they would almost prevent the mail carrier from reaching letterboxes. My mother and I regularly joke about our neighbors throwing all their household

The door slammed on my way out of the old apartment building. No, I didn’t slam the door; it was a windy morning in the city of Chicago. As I was walking outside, I whispered to myself “This is it.” The wind was pushing against me, almost causing me to tumble over. Along with the wind, the smell of rain filled my nostrils and my clothing started to soak from just a five-yard walk from the apartment building to my dad’s truck. As soon as I got inside my dad’s truck, I was shivering from the ice-cold rain and piercing wind that was outside and I loudly sighed with relief. The slam of the door may seem like a negative thing, but it was actually the beginning of a better life for me. It was the sound of me breaking free from an affectionless prison