Personal Narrative: What Difference Would It Make?

Over my years of school, one big influence on me has always been sports. Ever since a young age, I have always enjoyed playing and watching sports. In my four years in high school, I have fell in love with the sport of lacrosse.

I woke up and took one bite out of my pop tart but that one bite was all I could eat. My legs were shaking, and my heart was pounding. My dad told me, “It is a true honor to even make it this far so go out there and have some fun.” Once I heard this statement, I knew I was ready to go. I arrived at school and boarded the bus. The car ride was an hour and fifteen minutes of hearing the squeaking of the wheel on the bus. My teammates were getting their heads ready for the big game.

I became ambitious to better myself in all aspects of life. My main goal was to cleanse my skin of eczema and focus more on positive thoughts. Every day, I was consecutively resisting myself from scratching myself. It seems easy for some but was a challenge for me. The next major step was to accept me. Accept the fact that my skin is different, but I’m still the same as everyone. I didn’t change overnight, but I certainly changed over a long period of time. Beginning of Freshman year nothing changed dramatically. This was mainly the year I told myself to think positively about myself. Sophomore year came along soon enough. I found new friends that surrounded me with positive influences, and for the first time in my life, I felt accepted. My skin was progressing and I had friends that supported me. Junior year was the year I pushed myself in school. Took my first advanced placement class and surprisingly did well. Between the end of Sophomore year and Junior year, I began to work harder in school. I wasn’t always the smartest kid, but I didn’t push myself hard enough. This was also the year I progressed with my skin condition. Most of it has vanished. The friends and positive influences made me want to do more with my life, rather than worry about my looks. I pushed myself a more the following year. Senior year comes by and now I’m taking three advanced placement

In a political climate today that is defined by hyper-partisanship, a confluence of factors have led my political leanings to lean left of center but center around a moderate outlook. As I grew up in a family with a Democratic mother and a Republican father, I often understand the logic of both sides. While many times political parties attempt to claim a moral ideological superiority, I believe that all people have their own experiences and opinions that justify their leanings. For me, a person’s political ideology is not a factor that defines one’s personality or character. Among my friends, I am often hesitant to initiate political discussion unless I have known the person for a long period of time. While politics

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.

In a restroom, in a church or anywhere else in the world you will judge a person by their appearance whether it be negative or positive, you cannot help it, it just happens whether you like it or not. For an example, when you are walking down the street and you see someone wearing ripped up clothes and bad hygiene then you automatically assume negative things such as beggar, homeless or even possibly a drug abuser. Being judged can go a different way also, you can think of someone as a rich, snobby individual because they are wearing very nice clothes and act a certain way but in all actuality, they could be a wonderful person. A more serious case of people judging other people that I have noticed is that most people

she was. Once, everyone was awake and dressed at 8 o'clock we went over to the main lodge to find our friends Chris and Lynda Schatz, with their friend Tim Isbell already eating. It seems that it’s always a buffet here with the same thing as yesterday, but there was hash brown shredding's instead of squares, and I once again had cinnamon rolls, apple juice and bacon, excluding biscuits because they were just nasty. We ate our breakfast and chit chatted, but while we were doing that the weather turned nasty, and the wind was howling much more than it had yesterday.

How many people do you believe you can trust? We put trust in others that they will preform as you expect them to. It varies from person to person as to how much trust you put in them. Some people you will trust to the grave, others you won’t believe as soon as the television remote is missing. Although, when it’s life or death, how far can you trust even your closest friends?

Throughout my life I have learned that you should never lie, cheat steal, and to never be a coward. What I notice if you don't do any of these things you are counted as a nice and trusting person. Also when you do those things you get an awful pit in your stomach. This automatically makes me realize that doing this is wrong. My reasoning for know it wrong is because of it harms another or yourself it is automatically wrong. That if you are fine with doing these thing then people view you as untrustworthy and not someone they would want to be around and be friend.

The feeling of the newly fresh tide smell from the stack of jerseys overflows my nose. I begin dressing myself deliberately and my focus starts to be overcome by a sense of nervousness. Tying the last knot thinking how am i going to benefit my team and my teammates, but however my emotions prohibit my thinking, making me vulnerable to any mistake on the pitch. A tsunami of concerns make me think too much and lasts for an eternity.

One. I am small and I am always outside. I like running fast. I ski down the mountain without taking turns and I don’t like eating vegetables. I have a tree fort and I help my dad with hammering.

I was brought up into a family who believed in working hard to get what you want, and I too, have taken in this belief. I started taking a part in our family farm at a very young age, and have stayed involved each year. It’s not always enjoyable, but having my easy-going dad around, to keep the frustrating moments calm, sure can make it enjoyable for me. My grandpa and great uncle also helped me have a strong connection to the farm, and always helping out when help was needed. I was never believed by many when I told stories of driving the combine at a young age in school. My peers and teachers all thought it was near impossible, for a kid my size to operate such large equipment, but believe me or not, there isn’t much to it. It may look big and scary, but it happens to be my favorite part of farming.

As soon as I landed, I knew something was wrong. I hit the ground with an audible

Someone has already taken out a Minolta cellular phone and called for a car, and then, when I'm not really listening, watching instead someone who looks remarkably like Marcus Halberstam paying a check, someone asks, simply, not in relation to anything, "Why?" and though I'm very proud that I have cold blood and that I can keep my nerve and do what I'm supposed to do, I catch something, then realize it: Why? and automatically answering, out of the blue, for no reason, just opening my mouth, words coming out, summarizing for the idiots: "Welll, though I know I should have done that instead of not doing it, I'm twenty-seven for Christ sakes and this is, uh, how life presents itself in a bar or in a club in New York, maybe anywhere, at the end

My mom’s voice woke me up. ‘OH NO… I didn’t see what happened at the end; thankfully it was only a dream’, I muttered to myself. It was a scary dream. I never — and I mean never — want that ever to happen to me in real life. Deep inside, I know it wouldn’t, but I still felt uneasy.