Personal Narrative: My Road Journey

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As I drove home, on the same highway I had driven or ridden almost every day my entire life, something about this drive felt different. Maybe it was because that ride connected myself with my work, my friends, my whole life, and I was about to take this drive for the last time. I had just left my best friend, Madison’s house. We spent the entire day hanging out, eating, and losing my pedicure virginity, but avoiding the inevitability that, unlike the previous times we had spent together, we would have to say goodbye. As I was driving, tears streamed down face in a complex mix of sadness and joy. I had been battling with my disease endlessly and finally, I was completing my adventure for the cure. Living in the midwest with my disease was…show more content…
My stuff was crammed into two cars and my family and I started driving to California at 3 AM. My family and I don’t have the best relationship so you can imagine that a 5-day road trip was fairly agonizing. Just like any other family, there were road trip playlists, snacks, and car games being played, but a darkness rested just beneath the surface of the happy road trip facade. My parents and my brother were scared and grieving for the girl they were about to leave in California. I, however, was anxious, excited, and terrified that my dreams wouldn’t be lived up to. Leaving Kansas for California required me to put all of my eggs in one basket. I don’t if you have ever done that, but when you uproot your entire life to follow a dream inspired by a small thread of hope, it seems pretty reckless. Of course, I didn’t feel reckless as we were driving through Oklahoma and Texas, I just felt like I was finally going to be okay. The pain of my disease was slowly lightening in parallel to how many miles we put between the car and the prairie I spent my years playing…show more content…
For a whole year, I tried to diagnose my symptoms and put a label on it. In my heart, I knew what my disease, but I spent the following year ashamed, depressed, and suicidal. I asked myself, how did I catch this disease? I would pray to a god I didn’t believe in: Why did you give me this? Why me? It was like he was forcing me to hide in the shadows as everyone else got to enjoy life. Their coming of age story happened in high school and I knew mine couldn’t even begin until college. It was during that troublesome year that I told someone for their first time. We were in cheerleading and several other extracurricular activities together. She accepted my disease and said she supported me, but that is where our friendship to a turn for the
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