I lived an average life of a young girl up until the night of my sixteenth birthday. I had a few friends over and just because I am an amazing big sister, I let a couple of Griffin’s friends come over as well. At my party, there were about four girls including myself and my mother, and maybe five to seven guys if you count Griffin, his two friends, and my step-dad, Shane.
Obviously, I shouldn’t care what a nine year old boy thinks about what I look like, but me being the insecure teenage girl I was and still sometimes am, I felt ten times worse that night. Why; because, a nine year old told me I was too BIG. On top of that, I had just moved schools; so I won’t be with my friends this year. Just the other day, mom had told me that she and Shane
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I turned off the shower, dried myself off, and changed into comfortable clothes that were still presentable. I didn’t want to go back out there but I knew I had to. After all, those people, my friends, were there for me. I walked into my room with a sudden burst of courage; I was going to do it. I grabbed the blade from under my pillow and quickly cut my wrist a few times, wincing at the instant pain that shot through my entire arm. I didn’t care though. I did what I thought and felt needed to be done. I know it wasn’t the best way to handle my situation but it was the easiest. Soon after I made the cuts, they began to bleed. I didn’t know what to do. The red liquid seemed to ooze out of my wrist and form pools, rivers, and what looked like oceans coming out of my arm. A few drops of the blood even landed on the floor around me. I hadn’t realized how deep the cuts …show more content…
This was yet another way we acted as if we were together; we always shared our meals.
“I said I wasn’t hungry Matt.” After I said this, I realized how rude it had sounded and immediately apologized.
Rein and Matt ate their dinner on either side of me on the couch, squishing me in the middle with nothing but bottled water and my eyes glued to the TV screen. Once they were finished, the three of us ventured into my room.
Rein changed into a pair of pajamas I loaned her and Matt stripped to just his boxers; revealing his toned abs and to be quite honest, he looks amazing.
No! I can’t think like that of him, he is my best friend. I flinched and turned my head to get the thought out of my head and anxiously rubbed my wrist while looking around the room. Once again, I flinched from the sudden sting and looked at the area with small spots of dried blood; staining the light blue fabric of my shirt. I began to panic a little when my mom knocked on my door.
I scrambled out from my spot on the bed to let her in and my mom joined our conversation for a while. Griffin was long-gone in dreamland. I don’t exactly remember what it was we were talking about but I do remember waking up the next
Everything for a year had been leading up to this point and here I was in the middle of the happiest place on earth in tears because my friends had abandoned me in the middle of Disney on the senior trip.
The fresh wound didn’t seem like it would be such a problem until I saw the blood trickling out. Sure, when I had cut my self by grabbing a piece of saw palmetto, I felt my skin ripping and quickly retracted my right hand. However, my want for adventure to explore the tree island overcame the small bit of pain I felt. An adrenaline rush helped me overcome all of the annoyances pushing through the dense brim of the island, like palmetto leaves and spider webs, as well as the myriad of other obstacles upon finally penetrating.
"My mom, she was so distraught, because she was on the phone with me when it was all going down," he said. "She was so terrified, and I thought she was going to have a heart attack because she was so scared. Her voice was like sheer
I had no idea what was going on and I don’t think he knew either. I could feel myself loosing balance but I fought to stay up right as I covered my ears screaming because I couldn’t stand the pain of never-ending noise pulsing through my head!
I scrambled away as fast as I could with my wounded legs, I fell of the side of the counter, and proceeded to walk/fall accross the floor. I fell and felt his hands come in contact with my arms and I started shoving his hands away from me, he's the reason I'm in this situation. I'm breathing hard and can feel the blood seeping out of my bandages, and I breathe harder. There's no air going into my needy lungs, no matter how much I breathe. I'm being burried alive by my own anxiety and fear of this single man standing in front of me.
On February 21, 2016, I, Deputy John Arnold, went to 11747 West 105th Street South to assist another deputy in reference to a fight in progress.
It has been said, “The hardest part about growing up, is letting go of what you were used to; and moving on with something you’re not” (insert citation). Everyone grows up in different places, but it is the ability to move on that allows each person to grow. I have spent my fair share of time in different places, especially with being a ‘military brat.’ Places change people, not because they are a specific geographical coordinate, but because the people one comes across in the different places affects her. My life became what it is because I fell in love with new people and made memories in Oregon, Texas, Nevada, and New York.
As I was pulling my right arm back to the side of my body, Joseph caught me. His right hand caught a very firm grip on my skinny right arm. He dirty, long nails started stabbing into my arm. He brought up his left hand to get an even firmer grasp on my arm, making sure that I would have no way of slipping away from his grasp. He elevated my arm so that it was closer to his face, he opened his mouth and he put my arm into his mouth, biting me. I was so mad to the point where I couldn’t even think of the pain he just brought to my arm. I pulled my arm away from him, his mouth still closed on my arm. His teeth grinded across my arm, causing some slight bleeding. When I finally got my arm back, I smacked him across the face. My tiny hands doing nothing to harm his body.The only thing my hands did was anger him even more. He stood up, grabbed my head, and slammed it on the corner of the table. I didn’t know what I could do that would hurt him more than he had just hurt me. I decided he had won the fight. I didn’t want to cry in front of all of Joseph’s friends, because I didn’t want them to think I was a cry-baby. My plan was to walk away, with shame, and go to the bathroom and cry, but I couldn’t do that just yet. My brother and his friends looked at me. All of their jaws simultaneously dropping and their faces going pale white. One of Joseph’s friends whispered to him and said “Joe, she’s bleeding!” Joseph then pointed to my head. I
There were a lot of arguments happened around my teenage time. Most of the arguments are little things in life such as my mother waking me up at seven o’clock in the morning on weekdays, helping her clean the house, different opinions on choosing stylish outwears.
Brick walls are always going to show up in our lives to prove to us how badly we want something. One brick wall that I have faced in my life has to do with when I was younger and played softball. I was the newest member of the team and I had never played the sport before. I was always interested in watching softball, and finally decided to play on a recreational team with my close friend. All of the other girls had played for a few years already, and had grasped the skill. I on the other hand, was just learning all of the skills and wasn’t the best. Each practice, I would really try hard to play at the same skill level as all of the other girls, but it was hard to instantly be good at something new. Eventually, the games started to begin and
I once knew a girl in middle and high school who was quite peculiar. I'm not saying every kid was normal during this period of their developing lives, but this girl was definitely strange.
I wake up in this room. My mother is to my left crying with her face in the palms of her hands. My dad, he paces the floor with his hands in his pockets. I am scared I can barely remember what has transpired. As my mother stands and looks at me square in the eyes, the nurse comes and says with a grin on her radiant face “Hello, Mr. Howard. How are you feeling?” I attempt to sit up, but my body is aching. My dad hurries over to help, but it was no use the pain was overbearing. I began to weep and apologize. My dad with a stern look on his face says, “Andra, you are fine now just relax”. How could I relax? I am stuck in this room with no memory of what happened.
“Why don’t you use your locker? You’re going to have back problems before you even graduate”. These are words that are repeated to me daily, almost like clockwork. I carry my twenty-pound backpack, full of papers upon papers from my AP classes. The middle pouch of my backpack houses my book in which I get lost to distract me from my unrelenting stress. The top pouch holds several erasers, foreshadowing the mistakes I will make - and extra lead, to combat and mend these mistakes. Thick, wordy textbooks full of knowledge that has yet to become engraved in my brain, dig the straps of my backpack into my shoulders. This feeling, ironically enough, gives me relief - my potential and future success reside in my folders and on the pages of my notebooks.
During my freshman year of college, I had met one of my best friends, who go by name Jill. (She lives in New Jersey and while I live in Pennsylvania) I found it to be strange that sometimes, it feels like we have grown up with one another but in reality we have only one another for four years and I couldn’t be more thankful. I can remember when we met at school as if it was yesterday.
“Hello Miss Megan, or should I say my royal highness” she said with a playful smile, promoting my fantasy. I curtseyed to her and then ran to the kitchen to grab another handful of snacks. I plopped down on the floor cradling the Cheerio box in my lap. I watched my mom and grandma share hushed conversation near the door way, followed by a lingering hug.