Personal Narrative: Life After High School

It was an warm sunny day I was dabbing it ,four boys were strolling down woods street. There four boys names were Mac,dope boy ,devin and Shaddy. Devin was the smartest one out of all of them hood boys,the rest was the same.Devin was ready to start his own business selling shoes.Dope boy,Mac and Shaddy were going on the wrong path selling drugs,robbing and beating up people. Devin would hang around with them often and conversed with them, but he would not do any bad things. Mac has been a dad already, he had to take care of his 2 year old. Dope boy had an older brother, but, he go shoot a couple weeks ago. Dope boy was reckless, everyone was scared of him even his own mother feared for his life .Shaddy was the slickest one out of all of then, he would get away with everything he did.Shaddy was a only child ,no mother, no father living with his grandparents and living in the worst part of town.

"I'm so glad we can finally move into an actual house than an apartment." Kyle Sapienti, soon to be Stump, smiled and said. He traced the date on the calendar behind Patrick. September ninth, two thousand fifteen. Kyle moved away from it then grabbed the last bag of his from the apartment and packed it into his car. Patrick was taking Kyle's car with him because his car was already at the new house.

By the end of the week detention was getting so absolutely frustrating I felt like breaking the teachers neck every time I heard her exhale.

one of the biggest decisions of my life was choosing a major for my post high school education. Many people seem to have a general idea to what they would like to major in at a relatively young age while others have a more difficult time deciding what to do with their future and sadly I was one of those unlucky few.

I quickly raised my hand thinking " I know it, I know it." "Yes Thomas", the teacher said. "MAN!!! " Oh I forgot to introduce myself, I'm the girl that always knows the answer, the one who always follows the rules, the teachers pet, better yet, I'm the know - it - all.

Between the grades of kindergarten to grade four, I just didn’t care. I never thought twice about giving the wrong answer, doing my best work, or presenting projects in front of the class. That soon came to an abrupt halt when I started grade five. Everyone was starting to get serious about their grades and who they were starting to become. I began to worry about what people thought of me, and tried desperately to fit in. I was constantly working at getting my grades back up and maintaining my friendships, but I developed really bad anxiety about everything. I couldn’t work on or present any projects without stressing over it to the point where I wore myself out and made myself feel sick. My anxiety has decreased small amounts at a time over

I was given a life sentence at the age of seventeen. Since I was a freshman in highschool I have had plans to attend college after high school. I realized that I was an average student but I always tried hard in school hoping to one day impress the admissions board of a college I hoped to attend. I took classes in highschool that were completely out of my comfort zone in hopes to figure out what I would do with my life after high school. During junior year I was put into a web design class that submerged me into what seemed like another universe, the cyber world. I even learned a new language, program coding and how to design websites. I was fascinated and I would spend hours on end learning this new language. Soon I decided that I wanted to

Before we danced you'd fold your fingers into a gun, point it at my face, and say "blam." Embarrassment seeped like split garbage bag juice when the school forced nine year-olds to pair up and dance. Your sweaty hands, slippery guns would clutch my cold ones while we tapped across the gym floor. Every morning you'd point your nervous gun at my grim fish face, smiling. We found ourselves in the same gym

I am notorious for being clumsy. Sometimes I envision how my senior graduation will turn out, full of trepidation that I will trip on stage as I am approaching my principal to receive my diploma. Regardless, I realize that as the number of days left in high school decreases, it does not matter what happens on stage; all that matters is that I am finally graduating. OR

My life began 14 years ago on September 22, 2000 at about 1:30 pm at Mesquite Medical Center. I weighed 6 pounds 3 ounces and was 19 inches long. I have a sister who is 6 years older than me and is currently attending Stephen F. Austin for her 3rd year. When I was born, I had little blue spots on my body, but the most noticeable one is on my finger, it has grown as I have gotten older. My dad also has these mysterious spots and has been to many dermatologists to try and figure out what they are but no doctor knows exactly what to call them.

When I finished high school from my home town, I decided to move to bigger city for higher study. My parents sent me to one of dad’s older brother house for stay, so I stayed there for about one year. Everybody was okay in that house except for my aunt, she never treated me good. The problem was she had two sons, so she always discriminated between son and daughter. She had a problem with the way I talk, my outfit, my hair, and many other stuffs. I had to make breakfast in the morning, then cook lunch by 11am, and I had a school from 12 pm until 3pm, and when I comeback from school, I had to cook dinner. During the weekend, I had to clean house, wash clothes, and go for grocery shopping. I was basically a servant, and I did not do well in my

After what seemed like hours, Hanna had finally decided which shoe I was going to wear to the party.

My whole life I knew there was something different with me. Compared to my peers, I felt as if I was one step ahead of them in a developmental point of view. The thought process running through my head displayed contrast to others my age, and that left me feeling separated from them. Despite having had those feelings of not fitting in, the constant cycle of being the “mature one” did build my confidence. Whether I knew it or not, it has contributed to where I am now.

My story starts before I was even born. The doctor told my mom that I was going to be brain dead. I guess I did not move a lot in the womb. I was born on March 7, 2000. It was actually seventy degrees in Huntington. When I was about a year and a half years old my mom and dad got divorced. I can’t remember it but it has affected every day since then. I have had to move back and forth between houses because I felt like I needed both parents in my life to keep me happy.

When I was young, I did a lot more seeing than speaking. I was considered a dream child - so quiet, so calm, such a pleasant student. I learned that it was easier to be a wallflower. To attain great grades rather than be yelled at. I grasped that if I was as close to perfect as I could be, my life would be as easy as the circumstances would allow. And to give myself an advantage, I practiced observing others. I knew would be most beneficial to befriend, who was troubled, who was mad, and who was something I could only wish to be: Average.