Personal Narrative: Is It Worth The Pain?

The most vivid injury in my mind is one that still shows today on my right ankle.

I quickly swallowed my homemade authentic Indian food leftovers and gulped down my chocolate milk. Looking down at my watch that read 11:28am, I knew that I only had two minutes until my most favorite part of the day: recess. This particular day in 5th grade, I had run a lap around the playground before getting the rest of recess to myself. As I started walking for my warmup, another student ran up and said, “My parents said that your people caused 9/11.” Completely caught off guard, I held back the tears in my eyes and tried to shake off his comment. I had never encountered something like this.

When my mother asked me to read a book a few months ago, I was hesitant to agree. A stressful school year was approaching, and seeing my friends on a Saturday night seemed much more appealing. When I was younger, curling up with a good book was a typical pastime. Then came high school, and reading was replaced with countless hours of studying, cheer practice, and trying to figure out when I could catch up on some much needed rest.

So then I go, and find Mrs. Price and tell her, ¨The red sweater wasn't mine. I knew adults weren't right all the time.¨ So I yell at the top of my lungs to Mrs. Price, ¨YOU BELIEVE ALL THE STUDENTS AND YOU ALWAYS YELL AT ME, I WISH YOU NEVER TEACHED HERE, I JUST WANT TO PUNCH YOU IN THE FACE.” Then Mrs. Price tells me to go to the office. So I stomp my feet on the floor ,and go to the office. When I get into Mr. BobbyJoe’s office i talk to him and tell him what had happened. He says to me, “Now Rachel I know how you feel if I were you I would do the same thing. So what i want you to do is to go and tell Mrs. Price your sorry while I go and call your parents then come back.” So I go back to the class room and tell Mrs. Price that I was

I pull my knees closer, trying to shut out the cold, although even as I do so, I recognize the futility of the gesture. I can’t preserve heat like this, trapped in a metal husk with nothing but the clothes on my back. The unyielding sheet of steel that’s been keeping me upright for what seems to be centuries was not meant for man—merely machine.

The doctor wrapped my ankle in a bandage and told me I had to have it for a few weeks.Having sprained my ankle I had to sit out on a few activities. For the first few days i already became bored of having to

Have you ever been so desperate for something that you redevelop your motive in its entirety? Throughout my life I’ve found myself placed in this frightening situation multiple times; the most confusing of which would be what I’ve endured this year. People in their 20s have it rough anyway. We’re old enough to feel like we’re supposed to know what we’re doing, yet young enough to be clueless and it still be acceptable; then there’s those of us who think we’ve got it all figured out only to be proven tremendously wrong. I have learned, however, that being tremendously wrong can lead you right where you need to be.

The overstretched fake smiles and false enthusiasm futilely hid the jittered look held within during my first major audition. Six months of hard work and preparation was overpowered by stress coming in the form of sweat and unnecessary bathroom breaks. Ashamed and terrified of performing as a soloist, the metal strings shrieked during the audition in front of the white tarp hiding the judgement that I feared. The truth was a bittersweet reality that I brought home as a trophy while the event laughed at my incompetence as a cellist.

Have you tried and failed to get together with a girl or guy? Well this roller-coaster of a story will surely get you to empathize or sympathize with me, or maybe if it is that big of a failure to you, both.

After reading your response I realized I was not completely clear on my point of view. I have noticed this before and am working on trying to be clearer when writing. I also am trying to find a balance when giving details with my explanations. It is a find balance that I am still learning, in the past I have gone off topic because of my detail or long explanations. This is something that I am constantly working on and is not easy. However, when I receive feedback like this one it helps me find the part of my journal that I need to fine tune. I appreciate the time you took to read and give a meaningful response and not just tell me you agree. Yes, I do like people agree with me because I am only human. But when I receive a response like your,

All my life I’ve been told that college was a place that I would meet some of my best friends and possibly my significant other. Although I have made a few friends and acquaintances, I have not been as social as I would have hoped. My experience during my first few months at college have not been as good as I would have hoped but not horrible either.

Sitting on that bench wasn’t going to help make me feel better about myself. Neither was it going to place me on my dream team. Repeatedly thinking about the catastrophic event that took place within that hour made my head want to burst. I wasn’t sure how my eyes wanted to react; it was as if they were holding back my tears all the way back from my head.

One evening, I was helping my eleven year old son with his homework. We began to speak about how much school is important and how you have to do your best in order to succeed in life. He looked up and asked "mom why didn't you ever finish your school?" That was an excellent question and got me thinking.

I want to apologize for my recent activities and actions. This text might be large so I might have split the text into pieces.

I still remember the Tuesday night sitting in the cold park bench alone looking at my phone and reading his text. Part of me wanted to be blissful, he knows I exist, but the major part of me was trying to hold back the tears that were starting to make their way through. Sometimes they don’t have any idea of how long their words can stay in our minds and how many different ways it can affect us. I still remember every word in that text; stabbing like hundred knives, and enhancing the pain. I started doubting myself that day, was I worth everything? Was I worth for someone to like me? Do I even like myself for someone else to trust me? We know there is a saying, ‘love isn’t supposed to be easy; it is supposed to be worth