Personal Narrative Essay: Living With Half A Heart

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When I was four I learned to live with half a heart. Not literally a half a heart but it sure felt like it. My mom had left and wasn’t planning on coming back and I wasn’t sure why. Even though I cried every night and wished for her to come back she didn’t. Being a little girl surrounded by amazing friends with complete families, not one of them missing a mom. I felt like a complete outsider, like I was so different from everyone else. Every time I think back to my mom when I was a child I think of all the times she made me feel loved and warm, how she made me believe she was the one person who was never going to hurt me. In reality she was the one person who has hurt me the most. I remember all the times when I wished I had a mom just to ask the important questions, to get advice from and just to have that mother-daughter connection I’d always dreamed of. After a while I began to make excuses for her, talking I’m not sure why or if I’ll ever find the answers I’ve needed my entire life, but I do know that my brother and I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for her. If it wasn’t for my brother I don’t know how my life would’ve turned out for me I was forced to be strong. Everything I did was to show him not to be discouraged and to always strive for your dreams. I was his role model and not then or now will I ever show him me giving up, because I never want him to give up on anything. I want him to be whoever or whatever he wants to be, because that’s the joy of living in this world, you can! You can be just about anything your mind can imagine, but you aren’t going to get anywhere pitying yourself. If I was to see her today I’d thank her, for forcing me to become so strong. I don’t think any of the obstacles in my life would have been overcome if it wasn’t for the fact that I’m never going to stop, I’m always going to push. Nothing can tear me down; it didn’t then why the hell would it

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