Personal Narrative: Happy To Be Alive Essay

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Personal Narrative: Happy To Be Alive

People often ask why I seem to be so happy; my usual reply is "because
I'm alive".

It was six days after my eleventh birthday, so naturally I was happy,
but by the end of this day there are feelings I had that I never knew

I recall my primary six teacher asking my class to gather round her as
she had something to tell us. She said that a man had gone into a
primary school in Dunblane and started shooting at innocent children.
The thought that someone could this came to me as a great shock but I
did not even consider what might have happened to my cousin, Emma, who
lives there. In all honesty I had forgotten about her.

It wasn't until I walked past my house window after school and I could
see my mum crying, I filled up with worry but the thought of what had
happened to my cousin still never entered my mind. I looked at her,
then my mum said my cousin's name. It felt like my legs had just
disintegrated. I could not stand. I filled up with both crushing
emotion and devastating anger. The reason for my tears was obvious but
the answer for my aggression plagued my mind endlessly. I found myself
unable to look at anyone. The room was filled with loved ones who were
going through the exact same as I was yet each look came across as so

I felt the only way to get away from the pain and anguish that
encircled the living room was to go to my room. I sat alone in
silence. This silence made my anger grow until I lashed out; I began
to hit the wall repeatedly. The more pain I felt the more I hit. I
wanted to try and feel some of the pain my cousin might have. I don't

... middle of paper ...

...o talk about the horror of what

This experience dramatically changed my outlook on life. As a person I
don't feel that there was much of a change but the way I now look at
things is different. I knew that for Emma's sake I had to go out and
face the world. As the cliché goes, I now take every day in my stride.
I smile to show that I'm grateful that I'll experience what life has
to offer me. To this day still the topic arises, in classes a teacher
may mention it. When this is talked about I get an indescribable
feeling going throughout my body. This may be the way that emotion
works. I'm not sure. All over the world people are still using
handguns. No matter how many protests take place people still feel the
need. My only question is why? Why shoot someone? Is there a sense of
power that comes with that?

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