Personal Narrative-Memoir

They ask me to write down my race, And I think and I think, I am so much more than that. I am the pounding rain in a thunderstorm The stunning sight of fireworks I can bring peace and joy Or fear and annoyance

As I sat in the brightly lit kitchen doing my homework, I suddenly realized that someone was intently watching me through the nearby and opened front door. It was pitch black outside, the only small sources of light beaconed from the stars. The shadowed figure drummed his fingers on the middle of the glass, leaving fading fingerprints.

All I could think about was how bad my legs hurt. I had scratches from branches that tore away at my skin on my arms and legs, a terrible headache and my clothes had so many rips and tears that I couldn’t remember how I got. I couldn’t remember anything, not my name, what had happened or anything. I just didn’t know. All I knew is that I had been stumbling through the woods for quite some time. Well until I came to a road with tons of cars coming from every direction. I stepped one foot at a time onto the noisy road filled with commotion and so abruptly it all went black. I woke to nearly blinding lights shining above me and looked around to see the room of a hospital. As I tried to sit up I experienced a piercing pain that lasted until I finally

Sitting on my mother’s bed with my two younger sisters, our eyes are overflowing with tears and I step out of the room.Their yelling is all I focus on instead of taking action. My parents are arguing over nothing, as usual. My heart begins to beat at the pace of a butterfly’s wing and I freeze. The volume of their argument has increased and I attempt to persuade them that this argument can be solved in a more positive way. I remember the fear I felt when I saw my mother crying immensely, it was gut-wrenching. My father was standing in front of her, I knew he was going to hit her because it was not the first time this had happened.

Everyone has a past with changing events that have shaped you to be who you are today. Good or bad these events are important to your life's story. My childhood was your average childhood till I turned the age of five. That’s when everything went downhill. It was one blow after the other: my Pa died and my parents got divorced. Slam, right in the face like a softball to the head. It hurt so bad and I didn’t know when the pain w When they say there’s a light at the end of the tunnel, they’re not lying. My mom got remarried and then had yet another kid to add to the four she had between her and my stepdad. Damyn was a blessing in disguise.

I spent the days reading and sleeping and doing homework. It was about as exciting as the Republican National Convention, well, the homework anyway. The books were the most interesting part, but you can’t spend all of your time reading books, right? Anyways, after quite a bit of thinking and debating with myself, I came to the completely logical conclusion that the best way to alleviate my boredom would be to make bread, because the best thing to do when you are bored is obviously to do something that involves a lot of sitting around and doing nothing.

The process of completing my memoir has been difficult, but fulfilling at the same time. It was difficult to figure out what topics I wanted to write about. I really wanted to dig deep into myself and write about topics that would change me. The prompts given to me about writing about your pet or funniest moment weren’t very appealing to me. I wanted to write about something that was difficult to write about, but would help me at the same time. Some of the topics I choose were a challenge because I was explaining meaningful things that I’ve never put in words before. My hardest topics included my first relationship, a significant person in my life, and my scariest moment. On the other hand, I enjoyed writing about how I got my name, appreciating

I sat in the rain for over an hour at my spot tonight, looking past the slate boulders and fallen trees of the forest I have grown to love so much. It's a good thinking spot. It's been my safe place to go when I cannot love myself. I use it often, if one would like to know. It's been raining all day, but I don't mind; it was fully worth the wet butt just to collect my thoughts outside.

Things aren't always what they seem. There's always something or a reason to why things happen. I believe this situation was one of them. The end of the school year was over for most of my friends, but I still had one month left. I had one more month left of work,projects, and assignments. Personally to me it wasn’t really a pain in the butt, simply because it would help me out a lot and I would also be ahead of my new classmates. The dedication and time I put into my last month of school was something that my teachers thought should be rewarded. We were warned that there was a camping trip coming, and ahead of time i had already planned to to not attend, simply because of my lack of confidence and insecurity. I was always that kid that would like to be alone and rather sleep. I would not even socialize unless I knew who that person was, most of the time it was my friends and family. That was simply how i was and that was my way of living.

Early in the morning, the ball dribbles and echoes throughout the gym. The sound of the rim thuds, as the ball bounces and rolls around it. The sunlight comes through the window and illuminates the gym, and no one but myself in sight. The sweat begins to make its way down my forehead, and drips down my face onto the sleek, shiny floor. I begin to breathe deeply and repeat the drill, in and out and pull-up jumper, swish. As I finish practicing, I hurry to get to class.

I was terrified when I saw all the blood on the ground. When I saw the blood, I knew that somebody was hurt. All I could see around me was blood in the seats of my mom's car and on the ground. I could hear my mom crying and screaming while holding something in her arms. When I got up to see what she was holding my heart busted out of my chest. I could see my mom holding my little brother, and tears running down her face like a waterfall. However, I could overcome this tragedy because of my family.

The echo of the ambulance resonated in my head while we were riding to the hospital. My mom was on the stretcher since she had the worse injury and my sister and I were sitting on the metal bench inside the ambulance. My sister was stifling her tears, sniffling and hiccupping from time to time to time with sharp breaths, and I was staring into space, letting the intenseness of the recent moment settle in while the EMT checked our vitals and asked us yes or no questions. We arrived at the hospital and they hastily brought us to a room with a hospital bed even smaller than a twin size with 4 chairs and my dad showed up minutes after, riding right behind the ambulance and came with us. My sister only had a little back pain, but no cuts, bruises, or anything irregular within her. There was a mirror inside and I when I stood in front of it, I saw on my face my dried up nosebleed, a large rounded cut under my eye from my broken glasses that were now lost in the grass of the accident, and tiny cuts everywhere that I now have scars from. I also had this sharp sore feeling when I pressed the area below my eye. It was bad, but not nearly as bad as what my mom had to experience. She had a fractured a rib and I knew she was in immense pain. Of course, my mom occupied the bed and while the doctor examined us, asking us questions in the most calm voice they could. I was attentive to what the doctor was saying and asking, but I was also dazed, getting lost in my

Once I reached my father I noticed this was not good, not good at all. He had his arm held tight against his stomach, obviously trying to fight the severe pain. His face held strain as he tried to hold back the overwhelming distress. Blood and screaming filled the parking lot, my mother’s cry being the loudest of all. People started to crowd around, looking to get a better view. Tears streaming down my face, I was as devastated as one could be.

“I’m tired” I said in a cranky voice. My mom grabbed my head and put it on her lap and told me to go to sleep.

“Jim out the door hurry hurry.” My mother hollered. I stumbled out the door, gasping for air. Following my mom we crossed through a corridor and ended up in what looked like a lobby. It was chaos, everyone was screaming, yelling and crying. Than a man in a red bandana covering his nose and mouth appeared from behind the smoke. He told us to follow him and head down the stairs. I found my mom grabbed her hand and we raced down the stairs as fast as we could. Only a couple of staircases down my mom started breathing heavily and