Most Dangerous Barrios In The Dominican Republic

I am driven. It wasn’t always that way. The passions I developed inside as a result of my experiences became too powerful to restrain. When I began to speak again, I understood the value of words and the power they held. I began to perceive words as a tool; a powerful, meaningful weapon against the adversity I have witnessed in this world and the changes I needed to see in it. My passion for change and equal opportunity in the pursuit of happiness, stability, and health have motivated me to master my potential and to develop my leadership skills in order to provide a service to our world and future.
During my time of residential instability, the neighborhood I stayed in was one of the most dangerous barrios in the Dominican Republic. Many nights I would sleep to the sound of gunshots in the background, but it didn’t really affect me because I couldn’t see them. One day, as I was walking home, I witnessed a man get shot four times. Every shot that went through him resonated within me. I tried to obscure the scene from my mind, but I remember lying awake all night replaying that moment over and over. Ever since then, having to sleep to the usual rhythm of violence was unbearable.

She was malnourished and her face was marred by sweat and dirt. I remembered her face vividly; she had a beautiful, innocent glow and light brown eyes. She stood there weakly as we entered the shop. When we hurried out, I noticed her standing abnormally still. We heard her fall and ran back to her. Her eyes were wide and still. We desperately cried for help while trying to wake her, but when we finally acknowledged her death, we both screamed and almost dropped her. After help had come, I broke down. I experienced days of overwhelming guilt as a result of that occurrence because even though I had not killed her, looking at her lifeless, blameless face was an image I could not forget and couldn’t stop blaming myself