I don’t know how to begin to define myself in order for you to understand who I truly am. I believe there is more to a person than stories that mould us into who we are today; like when one asks, “Tell me your story," I don’t think about that time when my family broke into two or that time I was diagnosed with my mental illnesses. I think of coffee, because coffee is bitter and bitter people drink coffee, sad people; people with heavy hearts and heavy footsteps, with tangled thoughts, people with anxiety and words left unspoken, people like me. Lonely people drink coffee. I think of the world map I have in my room with thumbtacks marking every country I want to visit. I think of foreign languages, and how beautiful it sounds when words form…
When asked to write about a childhood experience most people think of the time they lost their first tooth when they were 6, or about the time they started school when they were 5, however, I’m going to write about summer. It wasn’t just any summer it was the summer that I went to the lake with my Dad and Papa. I was about 4 and couldn’t be any more excited about what was going to happen…
Growing up can be challenging even with the ideal surroundings. Your teen years are even more puzzling because you seem to be stuck in between being a child and an adult. Throw in not having a father or mother around and life gets difficult. The year 2001 was a difficult year for my family and the nation. My life growing up wasn’t picture perfect, but in one very long month I learned that kindness from those around will help you endure and survive.…
The story started when one night I snuck out of my house to go to a party, as a result, that night I slept over at a friend’s house and found a ride home the next morning. When the car pulled into the driveway the morning after, I thanked the driver and walked up to my front porch with a sly smile to greet my obviously frustrated parents. As my mom ushered me to sit down on one of the chairs on our front porch, I know that nothing good is going to…
Who am I? That has always been an essential question for as long as I can remember. I never really understood why we had to answer that question along the way, but I’m now a senior at SJPII and I still have no idea who I am. It really bothers me that for 16 years I still haven’t figured out who I am. Constantly going from class to class and making new friends I still can’t pin point who the “real” me is.…
She was born on a busy summer night on September 13th 1918 in Brookline, Massachusetts. I always had the feeling that Rosie was a little different from the rest of us. On the day of her birth the midwife arrived late, and my theory is that this action deprived her brain of oxygen. We were proven right when she failed to advance from kindergarten and was deemed to suffer from intellectual disabilities. When this happened our parents began to conceal their third child from society.…
People have several different ways in which they tie their shoes. I have tied my shoes is…
“Individual commitment to a group effort - that is what makes a team work, a company work, a society work, a civilization work.” Vince Lombardi, Green Bay Packer coach.…
When I was younger, I was oblivious to the world around me, I always thought life was just a really slow journey, But as I began to grow up I started to recognise, That everything I thought when I was younger were just stupid little lies. I have learnt to take every chance I get, So in the future I won’t regret. I don’t know if I have matured in my mind,…
I always keep this poem and picture in my wallet. I take it everywhere with me because it means quite a lot to me in two very different ways. One of those ways is because it holds sentimental value. When I was younger I learned to read very late in life and I was always so embarrassed of that. My father knew that I was struggling and bought me the book, Where the Sidewalk Ends. It is a book full of poems and little pictures written by Shel Silverstein. I remember opening the book to ta random page, and it was the page with this poem. I then remember my dad asking me to read it to him. I was so uncomfortable, even thought I was just going to be reading to my dad. He gave me some words of encouragement, and even thought I was not able to read…
When I got to St. Vincent’s hospital I thought I was in labor but the doctor said my water wasn’t broken yet. So I had to walk up and down the hallway for the baby to come down. Then finally the doctor pulled my water. And oh my god I was in so much pain. The nurse said” Keep pushing, the baby is almost out.” With a final push I had my baby. She was the most beautiful little baby with dark hair and big light brown eyes. I called Diana.…
Transitions to adulthood are usually positive events, be they quinceneras, bat mitzvahs, or just getting older. Most people see transitioning into adulthood as something beautiful and amazing. Unfortunately, what people fail to understand is that not everyone’s life is exactly the same, and we all manage to fall into that assumption that it happens at the same time for everyone, and nobody ever comes out with any negative results.…
I was never a dog lover. My kids always wanted a dog. I dug my heels in but eventually, they wore me down with chorus’ of “please can we get a dog?” Begrudgingly, I began looking for a dog. It was to be a Christmas present for my kids, an older dog, a trained dog. I knew that I did not have the patience for training and I knew that when kids say they will help; I knew exactly what that meant.…
Growing up, most of the children I knew would go to church on Sunday’s, visit their grandparents’ house to bake cookies after school, and have milk and cereal for breakfast every morning. But I had never set foot inside of a religious building, couldn’t even speak the same language as my grandmothers, and ate congee with fermented soy beans like it was the most natural thing in the world. My little town where I’d grown up, made friends, and built memories was, to say the least, completely un-diverse.…
My first home for many years. This land comes rarer to me as the day…