Personal Narrative: Westlake High School

It was a pouring and cold afterschool afternoon at Westlake Elementary. I stood under the awning of the school as I waited for my mother to pick me up while holding tightly onto the clammy cardboard plate that displayed the gingerbread house I had made that day covered in a layer of plastic wrap. I had been waiting for hours and there were no other students to be seen. Yet, I kept looking forward to showing off my creation to my mother. I had always been an optimistic individual and tended to lean towards the “bright side” to every situation. I realized that I was responsible for my own happiness and dwelling on the negatives would only serve to cut down on my happiness and limit the scope of my experiences. However,