Personal Narrative

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Personal Narrative Entering through the doors, I gazed around. It wasn't how I remembered it, I now felt like a stranger, an impostor. It was the same but it felt so distant. I had returned to the worry-free days of primary school. On my right, were the stairs I tumbled down. I was rushed to hospital, my head hurt. The whole of my class went very quiet, I didn't understand why because it was break time, but now just a normal staircase draped with a new carpet of the most unreceptive peach, stared back at me. I continued to walk forward but a train of jumping five year olds crossed the corridor distractedly. The teachers were new; the pupils were new, only I knew what the school had been like in my unperturbed years there. Finally able to cross, I advanced into the playground. The door, which had once tested all my muscles to open it, now flung open with a mere touch of a finger. I stepped down, disbelieving of what lay in front of me. What had once seemed so large was now no bigger than my patio. Bombarded by memories flooding back to me, I walked around. The ground was now a green tarmac. It was once grey and gravely and it used to hurt whenever I fell over; like the time that jenny and I spun around as fast as we could ten times and the ran to the other wall of the play ground (which I now saw was not very far). But Little Maxi was in my way so I bumped into him, he hurt

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