Personal Narrative: Life Is A Box Of Chocolates

723 Words3 Pages
For two years, I pranced ignorantly through out my life. Views of the pentagon, flooded the panoramic windows of my apartment. Chandeliered lobbies, tennis courts, a sauna, multiple pools, a gym, a balcony, roof top access, twenty-four-hour security and many other amenities blinded me. It was the place to be. Every night there were parties, people, liquor, music, and food. Two hundred miles away from home, I lived what I thought was, the ultimate life of independence. Completely naïve to the reality of the world, I impractically coasted up the hills in my life. Life was sweet, but have you ever heard the saying life is a box of chocolates? I soon learned, like a box of chocolates, no matter how sweet life is you never know what you’re going…show more content…
Overcome with the good, I unintentionally let my guard down. I was always on go, following a set routine. Every morning, six thirty, I’d get up for school at eight. Then, I’d take the subway to work where I was an intern. Once I finished, either I’d go home to start homework or go to my second job where I worked in retail. At night, I always squeezed in a late night dance class. On a good day, I would get home at eight o’ clock, but on a full day I’d get home one thirty in the morning. I had a tight schedule, not the mention, the school projects and intern work that I had to…show more content…
When he passed, the guy hung out the window and taunted me. “Hey, come here!” he joked as he hit the horn. He had a grin of pure evil on his face. The flow of the traffic saved me, because it restricted him from stopping. Tears came to my eyes, because I knew was alone. Independence, it’s what I prided myself on, and now it was my weakness. Sure the guy passed me, but he didn’t stop there. He pulled over about 10 feet in front of me and waited. I stopped in my tracks. My job was another two blocks up. It was the only safe place to go but if I continued to walk up there, he would have grabbed me. I knew he couldn’t pull over into the opposite lane of traffic, so I quickly crossed the street to get away from the van. He pulled off, and made a right at the next light. I’m pretty sure he was attempting to turn around and come back but, I made it to my job before he could. After that day, I constantly replayed that event in my head. It haunted me everywhere I went and I was afraid to leave my apartment. I was depressed by this tragic event just as Mya Angelou was in Sister Flowers. “For nearly a year, after I got raped, I sopped around the house, the Store, the school and the church, like an old biscuit, dirty and
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