Personal Narrative: Memoir

Memoir

I didn’t know whether it was the cold pizza, the half eaten oreos cluttering my bed, or my best friend sitting next to me that made me realize what was going on, but the way we laughed told me that this moment was the best. It was the thing that showed me to open up. In my life, everything had always been such a hard thing to do. Anxiety was holding me back from being able to open myself up and be who I wanted to be. My life was a constant struggle of things being “to be, or not to be”-- but when I had met Rachel Gone, things for me changed in a totally different way. It was my turn. I remember looking over to Rachel, fear twisting in my stomach. She and my older brother both expected me to stand and speak to both of them, telling them every little secret about me and everything I adored in secret.

The feeling of relief surged through my body like I was an electrical cord connected to the wall. I agreed, so I stood up on my cold wooden floor. My brother took his seat next to Rachel and grinned at me. I could feel myself shaking.
When I began speaking, the words were rough-- beaten up, almost. They were forced out of my throat, causing a hard dryness to them. After moments, though, my interests spilled from my mouth. My embarrassing moments, secrets, and wants tumbled to the floor, soaked in by Rachel and my older brother like they were mops absorbing the mess of my words.
They laughed. I was mad for a moment. Furious,