Personal Narrative: Traumatizing Repercussion

We conversed about how stressed we were and what our plans were for thanksgiving break. My friend usually didn’t stay around when I’m with my school friends. They seem to not pay attention or notice him at all. Shortly after the bell rang for first period, I instantly remembered the dread and anxiety that school brought upon me. This day was a block day; Four class periods that lasted for an hour and a half each.

I had to go to the new gym because of an assembly that was meant for meeting all the teachers. While I was walking I was thinking “Will I be able to make new friends?”, “Will I be okay in this school?”, “How will my teachers be like?”. All these thoughts were going through my mind. Abruptly, a super loud bell rang, it broke my chain of thoughts.

Since it was my first day, I was confused which hallway to use so I was just walking around trying to find my second period after wondering around I managed to get to my class. I went to my second period class and the bell rang as I entered. I was confused about when I would have lunch. I didn’t know anything, nor anybody.

It was uncomfortable for me to be around my classmates, but everyone in the class seems to be nice to me because I was the new kid. They didn’t have problems with me and I didn’t have problems with them. As time goes on, I began to feel

he foundation of my personal hell was laid that day. I was in absolute terror for the remains five minutes of the trip to my house. I slowly reached for the handle to the car door, but my hand was trembling so badly I missed the handle on my first attempt. The calm tone of my father’s voice was in dissonance with the anger he outwardly displayed. He told me to go straight to the basement and wait for his arrival. I heard my father speaking to my sister in hushed tones. In order to understanding of what they were discussing it was necessary for me to get closer to the two of them, but I only dared to venture to the third step from the bottom. I was close enough to hear what they were saying from that distance while also being close enough to

However, I smile and confidently walk past them to sit at a table with my new friends. During the whole forty five minutes I didn’t dare to look back at the table with my old companions. High school was my opportunity for a fresh start. I prepared for the first day of high school as precisely as women prepare for their wedding day. I went to five mall in search of the perfect outfit, nail salon, hair salon, practiced my smile and even rehearsed the tone with which I would greet my classmates.

Words Can Hurt Bombarded by the bullies and lies, it all started in 6th grade by being called a “slut” from my so called friends. I would go home after school to be put down once again, I was “dumb” according to my family. By then I had no faith in myself and the world came crashing down on me. I was getting D’s and F’s in school. I would go home and lock myself in my room trying to get away fro the name calling but that didn’t help.

My First Day of 6th Grade Noises filled the crowd with excitement in Cupertino Middle School. It was the first day of 6th grade. I was feeling nervous. Sweat was forthcoming down my face very slowly. I had never been in such a huge school with lots of students.

With this being my first semester here on campus, I was very nervous my first week of classes. Where were my classes at? Is there enough parking for me? What if I’m late? I had many different thoughts running through my head the first week of classes but I found my classes, I found parking, and I made it to class on time with no worries.

"Waking Up from Abuse" Awakening to the reality that your entire life has been a lie is about the harshest wake up call you can get. I speak from experience. I've actually done it twice now. The first time I "woke up" was when I finally realized I was the survivor of childhood narcissistic abuse.

The next day, I had to become revitalized. I was able to write down an introduction with a strong thesis statement, but something just wasn’t right. I couldn’t stop my progress just to try to figure it out, so I kept going. It wasn’t until I turned in my rough draft to Mrs. Graff that I had realized that I had broken two of her top rules.

During my sophomore year, I took my first AP class: AP World History. As a freshman, I would see the older students stressing out about that class. I remember the anxiety I felt as I walked up to the classroom on the first day. The teacher stood at the door, with the seating chart in his hand. “Find your name and take your seat,” he instructed as students arrived.

The transition from eighth grade to ninth grade is one of the most difficult but unforgettable things a student must do in his adolescence. For me, it was filled with new opportunities of taking Ap classes and joining clubs. One of these cubs was Youth and Government (Y&G). For as long as I can remember my brother, Riad, has boasted about how amazing Y&G is and how it has changed his life. My brother is three years older then me, so as a freshman he was a senior in Y&G. I was so excited for the year due to the fact that i got to experience Y&G with my brother. Little did I know that senior year changed my brother.

My first day of high school as a freshmen in a new level of education Is what I was thinking when I woke from slumber that morning in bed. Stepping foot on the campus wasn’t even the beginning, taking the school bus in the morning is where the first taste of being a freshmen and actually starting and being an high school student. I started to get really nervous and a sense of reality hit me. Walking towards the bus stop all I see is a huge group of high school students waiting around for the bus, calm and cool as I try to stay to be I approach the waiting area not knowing what to I’m getting into.

Want to know the first traumatising experience I can remember. Well I was about 4 years old and I had just gotten this new lemonade maker. It was the full package. It had a ton of amazing and advanced things, well advanced for a 4 year old. Anyway my mom was helping me make lemonade and after it was doing its thing she went outside with my dad. My 4 year old impatient self decided it was finished after about 30 seconds and started grabbing at it. I was reaching a high as I could. I felt a part of the machine and lached on. I started pulling on it, then out of nowhere if falls off the counter and hits me on the head. The lemonade was ab-solutely everywhere. By this time i'm bawling my eyes because I just broke one of my prized possessions at