think of my bedroom‚ I realize why some people are so crazy about locking their doors and not letting anyone inside it and touch their stuff. My bedroom is the place where I can sit back and relax. It is the only place where I can get away from the world‚ away from the stressing college student life; a place away from work and rude customers‚ that even though no matter how nice you are to them‚ there’s always someone that finds the way to bring your mood down. A place when I can have my own privacy
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that can make your power reflect you in a certain way. My power comes from my family‚ my life experiences‚ and what I want for my future. My family is a huge source of my power. They have loved me and supported me in what I do since I started. Like when my parents attend games and concerts to support me. They give me power in what I do. That’s how they’re an influence on me‚ and a source of my power. Life experiences also influence how I use my power. Looking back at those significant moments influence
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Journals‚ magazines (seventeen‚ vogue‚ American girl) and my hate for books and writing turned into a passion. The first book I read for enjoyment was in third grade‚ and it was the
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January 2002 I was standing in front of the Battalion Commander’s desk being read my second Field Grade Article 15 in seventy days. I was being demoted to Private First Class‚ being sent to Correctional Custody in Camp Lejeune‚ South Carolina for thirty days and being moved to a new company when I returned. The first field grade was for disobeying a lawful order from three senior NCO’s‚ the Brigade CSM‚ Battalion CSM‚ and my Platoon Sergeant. They had all told me in the same day at separate times to get
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| My Life | The absolute true story of my life. | | Malik Flournoy | 8/22/2012 | U.S. History Mueller U.S. History Mueller | “Life is only as complicated as you make it‚” my mom would always say to me. My life has been great so far‚ then bad at times. But in retrospect my life may seem better than others. Although that may be the case‚ my life isn’t as perfect as it may appear. Being me I had to go through a father-less childhood with a “pop-up father”‚ brainless injuries
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The Fear I Will Overcome I have this fear. It causes my knees to shake. I break out in a cold sweat. My heart starts to beat at 100 miles per hour and I get light headed. I am crying inside but try to act strong around people who think that I am the toughest one there. The thoughts of certain death run through my mind as I imagine my own funeral. My stomach feels strange. My palms are clammy. I am terrified of heights. Of course‚ it is not really a fear of being in a high place. It is the view of
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painful one. “He would put his peewee in my peewee‚ and touch my peewee”. Those are the words no parent or adult wants to hear come from a child’s mouth. Child abuse is sadly a common issue that our society has to face‚ and I was one of those who went through it. I was sexually abused by my grandfather multiple times day from the age of three to six and half. I was abused multiple times day in different ways each time‚ and it was only when I was left alone with him. My parents left me alone with him twice
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to make my fall asleep when I was a child. I really miss him‚ my grandfather. In some sense‚ he is the person I admire most. To begin with‚ my grandfather is very brave. He was a policeman. His team was ever asked to catch a ruffian with gun in the central road of our city. Due to the crowed public around‚ it was very dangerous to keep the ruffian. Accidently‚ my grandfather saw the ruffian stay near him. It was a good chance to catch the ruffian‚ because the ruffian did not notice my grandfather
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"My shoes! These were my favorite pair‚" he groans. Then as if realizing where the puke just came from he looks at me. "Shit‚ this means you have a concussion or something‚ right?" The whole time I am just trying to hide my mortification; I just puked all over my sister’s idol. On what apparently is his favorite pair of shoes. "Um‚ we should go find Karla‚ can you walk?" he asks. I have no idea who Karla is. I’m hoping‚ Karla is the manager who spoke with me earlier and not one of the nurses
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what skin color you are or who has the highest grade in the class. Cultural Identity is about what traditions or interest that makes yourself become you. My cultural identity is mainly made up with my love of dance ‚ sports ‚food ‚ music ‚ and family. Without any of these interest i couldn’t see myself being the person i am today. As a child my mom and dad always told me “Makayla it doesn’t matter what you’re doing or the mood your in you’re always dancing.” The same day they told me that is the
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