Personal Narrative-Saturday School

I don’t remember exactly how it felt when it first happened, but I do remember that right when I hit the solid concrete floor, I knew what had happened. Never again was I going to mess around with one of those skateboards, especially since I didn’t know exactly what I was doing. My head was spinning with confusion. I tried to stand up, except I fell right back down in even more pain. Everybody at camp was looking at me as I was crying, holding onto my leg as tight as I could.

As a young aspiring musician in middle school, I wanted to start a band desperately. Instead, I was known as Emerson Middle School 's’ music freak. I posted flyers in businesses around my hometown and online ads. I wanted to be like Amy Lee from Evanescence terribly, but my taste in music was different than most people. When my fellow classmates heard about my compositions and ideas, they thought it was a joke.

I’ve always wondered why people with a little or a lot of power tend to treat you unjustly. I’ve experienced many times when people with power treated me poorly. There were times in school with teachers, in school with principles and even out in public places. When I experienced these moments they made me feel like there were something wrong with me or I was different. Also, it made me feel like I was different from others… but not in a good way.

My body cried like a newborn babe, afraid in an unfamiliar place. Immediately, my fresh eyes were greeted by waves of black hair, friendly smiles, and the Japanese language. I had arrived in Japan. I did not know the language or the customs, but I dove right into the dark pool. I was determined not to let the unknown drown me.

I step out of my Dad’s blue shiny Honda van as he says “good luck on your first day”. I force up a weak smile as I close the door and it made a whoosh noise as it closes. I look at the entrance for a good five minutes. I take a deep breath and slowly as a turtle, a zombie and snails. I thought to myself, a zombie and a snails.

Or the time when I messing around on the kitchen counter like most 3 year olds do. I’m sure can imagine what happens next, cant you? Yep you were right I fell head to the ground. I’m now wonder if thats why i’m basically dislexic.

One rainy fall afternoon I decided to go out and practice getting in and out of clip pedals. I started riding and then in while taking a turn too fast I crashed, leaving me on the ground my ears ringing and with a sharp pain

“Four AP classes is a lot,” my parents warned, reading the list of courses I would take in the fall. “Are you sure you can manage that?" I felt fearless. “Of course,” I assured them. “I can handle it!”

I hit eh tree at a slight angle which prevented my head from making contact with the tree, but meant that the entirety of the force was put on my inner left thigh. In the blink of an eye, I was on my back, in pain, and wanting to see my mom. Turns out she wanted to see me too. She fully ran down the side of the iced over hill in order to get to me without falling while my dad crept down the side. After making sure that I did not hit my head, They put me on a sled and carried me back to the

I was still standing balling my eyes out. When my parents heard me screaming and crying they ran into my room to see what had happened. My mom saw all the blood and

We were rear-ended on our way to school. Being the diligent eighth grader I was, I had my mother finish driving me to school. I had a first block geometry test I needed to take, after all. Eventually, I stumbled down into the library and sent my mother an email explaining how my back hurt and my legs were still numb and we went to the ER. At the ER they placed me in a neck brace and conducted hours of testing including CT scans, MRIs, and X-rays.

I remember when I was going to start school. The school I went to was called Lincoln Elementary. It was just a short four streets down from my house. I was a little nervous and slightly scared to go. I didn’t want to have to leave home and be gone for so long.

As time passed, I seemed caught in a rigid routine. When I woke, my crazies made it hard to shower. During the day, I worked as an accountant for two small businesses in town. After work I came home, got high, and sat alone in my house. At night I watched Johnny Carson, and on the weekends, I visited my Aunt Claudia.

And we went to go ride our bikes. Me and my brother went down this steep hill, and I Body slammed the ground, I was bleeding and I was bruised up. And this one dude was Looking at me has I was falling, I was yet again embarrassed. Then we went to a

This early in the semester, you’d never expect people soliciting for meal swipes. But TDR is seeming more and more unpredictable these days. Last week my roommate Andreas and I approached the entrance when two girls asked us to swipe them in. Had they asked freshmen year when we had more swipes than a Tinder-addict, we would have said yes for sure.