Personal Narrative-Stereotypes In High School

I could hear music from the cars passing as well as, the strong scent of animal feces. I held my breath and rolled my window up, while my dad’s attention quickly changed toward me instead of the road. He still smile, even though he knows what to expect out of me. Nevertheless, the awful scent was not going to take away one of the most memorable moments of my high school years. As I entered a mixed of screaming and cheering voices of my peers, I entered the short, wooden gate. The backyard was packed and the crowd as large as everyone in our grade gathered together in a classroom. I felt six months ago, when I was studying for my first midterms. In reality, it was only about twenty girls in my friend, Emily’s backyard. I have not had friends gathering in since the UGGs

I would only attended close friends’ birthday parties and I believe I only had two of them, Alex’s and Lyssa’s. My freshman year of high school looks like a 5’1ft me and surrounded by piled and piled of worksheets and books, maybe my core teachers standing in each corners. Each time I got hit by a water balloon, I felt I could finally yet slowly breath again. As I was picking up the broken balloon on the grass, I came to a realization that I could make my high school feel like this water balloon fight. There is part that I get to have fun, yet there is still time to clean; it was all about balance. I promised myself, in three months I needed to make up all the fun I have missed during my freshman year. Sporting events, participating in clubs, meeting friends in the morning, socializing outside of school, etc. Although, my sophomore GPA was not as high as my freshman year, I did not regret any of it. I still have decent grades and I have a life. I realized how much free of stress I was compared to the exact same time last year. I never admitted that I’m a perfectionist, because nothing was ever good enough for