Personal Narrative: Sartell Swim

The Concussion While growing up my life had always been about basketball. Because of playing this sport I ended up getting an injury that not only injured my body but also my life. My injury was not like any other injury to the body, it was to my head. I didn’t know it then but brain injuries are hard to fully heal from. I learned this when I had thought that I got over my concussion until my grades started to plunge due to the fact that I was missing school because of migraines that had me crying myself to sleep and that were so bad that I wasn’t able to function normally.

All of my life, I had known nothing, but Snellville, Georgia. Snellville was a very small city in Northwest Georgia, weighing in with a population of about 20,000. Since Snellville was where I was born and raised, I was used to what the city had to offer, even though it wasn't very much. My family and I had never traveled outside of the state for two reasons: we weren't in a financial position to do so

“Do not give up; the beginning is always the hardest. ”-Kemmy Nola The day had finally arrived. It was the day I started my new swim team, and I could not have been more anxious.

‘’RR’’ I bounced on the old rusty trampoline, preparing myself to flip over and do a tuck. I looked at the camera I had set up to record myself, I had sworn I was doing it wrong and I needed to see what I was doing. I soon later found out I was doing it REALLY wrong. I take a deep breathe even though I've done this so many times before, I then do the actual flip.

It was a rainy day, for I felt gloomy, tired, drowsy, and drained. It was freshman year, and I was ready to compete in the regional championships of 1A high school swimming. I was going to swim in the 400 freestyle relay, and I was nervous, excited, ready, and energized. As I sat on the bleachers, where the CSD swim team was located. Before I knew it I was up on the starting block, just about ready to dive off after the previous swimmer made it to the wall.

Nantucket. The gloomy dark prison I was forced to call home. 6-year-old me was full force against the very thought of calling it home. Some consider it to be a picture perfect island. With all the crystal clear waves kissing the shore of the beaches it is hard to imagine a better place other than Bora Bora.

One girl in particular, Sarah, was extremely displeased with my arrival. I was unaware of this for the longest time until she made it very clear. Sarah had seemed friendly, she was very intelligent, and she was popular. I learned that Sarah was also extremely competitive and envious when others did better than her, and I learned it the hard way.

Nothing. My hands began to shake because I knew something was wrong. I sat there, in the middle of the court, looking at my knee. Nothing. I looked over to my dad and shook my head as he walked over.

I hate summer camp. My names jack and this is how it all began. Mom was saying it is a good way to experience having a time on my own and staying outside by myself because in the future when I go to college I have to do everything on my own so I had to do it I thought it was just going to be as normal as school can be

I'm moving gently forward, over the wild and beautiful, unexplored world below me. I'm floating in silence, and breaking it up with the sound of my breath. Above me, there’s nothing but shimmery light, the place where I've come from, and will go back to when I am done here. I'm going deeper past the wrinkled rocks and dark seaweed, toward a deep blueness where a school of silver fish wait. As I swim through the water, bubbles burst from me, wobbling like little jellyfish as they rise.