Personal Narrative Essay: The Land Of The Free

I thought all of my problems could be solved in America, “The land of the free.” The whole journey from Syria got my insides spilling out with thoughts of a whole new great life. The boat wasn’t even the thing that brought me closer to my new fate. It was my hope, the fragile string holding me tight. I knew that the new world would be hard living with a Syrian name, Adnan Hadad, and an Arabic language. Though, I was hopefully taking a permanent vacation from the famine and war in Syria, I still didn’t imagine what I would really face when I got to America.

But, that was in the past. I’ve been in school for a week now, facing challenges, that come with being a refugee. It’s hard to look back and see myself standing on a boat towards a new life. I was hopeful, but this unwelcoming school has helped to tear

me apart. The only one holding me together is the one and only Lily. I still remember her on the first day, she was so popular. It seemed as if the whole grade had revolved around her. I’m still amazed to this day that she gave it all up for me, to be known as, “the refugee’s friend.” Although, It sickens me to have to take advantage of her. But, I feel as if I have no choice. She is my shield against all the new obstacles in this school. Just the other day the “school hulks” tried to pound on me. It was Lily who stepped up as they were about to give it to me. I know her parents must wonder, where her bruises come from. I vowed to myself after that, that I would never put her through that again. I’m strong enough to handle those kinds of problems.
While the bullies do what they do best, I’m also stuck with poor english, malnutrition, and a broken home. Of, course Lily has come to the rescue for those too, except she can’t do anything about my house. Every day in homeroom, on top of personal English classes ran by actual teachers, she tutors me on it herself. It’s tiring and sometimes hopeless, but I know she’s trying to do what’s best for me. As for the food, she always makes sure to pack extra in her lunch box, and splits it all with me. For that, I am eternally grateful. It’s the biggest meal I have everyday.
So, as for the first day of my fifth week, I haven't had to conquer any bullies, yet. Lily sat at my side splitting her lunch with me, and I savored the peanut butter and jelly that seemed to melt in my mouth. But, just as things seemed to get good, the nowhere to be seen bullies, had now been seen.
“Hello Adnan. Oh, I’m sorry you probably can’t understand me. To bad I don’t speak your language.” The first boy called out. His faced formed into a smirk as he swung his hand back. I felt Lily at my side and I pushed her away. The pain was quick, but I still didn’t show any sign of fear. “Well, he’s tougher than I thought. Didn’t even flinch. I don’t even see an expression, just bones.” He laughed at this and poked the side of my ribs. Instead, the poke turned out to be violent shove, as he pushed me towards the ground. To my relief the bell sounded, herding everyone out. The boys stood there for a few seconds and left saying, “Poor refugee.” I looked over at Lily who sat helplessly in her chair. To my surprise, her eyes were watering.
“I’m sorry,” She said with a sniff. I watched as she hurriedly collected her belongings and left me, running away ashamed. She didn’t have to be sorry. I wondered if she knew that she was the only string tying me together.
The next day, I was intent on telling Lily what she meant to me.

The night before, I didn’t practice my English so I knew what to say. By now, I knew most of the words, so I would just let my heart guide me. Besides, my cramped old house, which is actually just a junky garage in an abandoned alley, is too small to let out my feelings. Once I got to school after a cold walk in the snow, I placed myself by her locker and waited. Fourteen minutes had gone by, and still no sign of Lily. I only had a minute to get to class now, so I hurriedly collected myself and ran to my locker. I was disappointed, knowing that without Lily here, it would be the hardest day of school. I opened my locker and to my surprise a note fell to the floor. I quickly picked it up and gazed at the neat handwriting that clearly spelled my name.

Dear Adnan,

I could not bear to tell you face to face yesterday so I am writing you this note. We are moving. I will never see you again. Never forget me, and I will never forget you. Just remember, “ To be called a refugee is the opposite of an insult: it is a badge of strength, courage, and victory.” - (Tennessee Office for Refugees).

Love, Lily

Karlee
My heart stopped. Even though, I couldn’t read some of that English, I knew enough to understand everything. No more Lily, no more strength, no more friends. She was all I had, and what she has built inside of me had now been attacked and defeated. As much as I wanted to mourn, I knew that some of what she left behind in me had survived. The quote spoke in my mind once more, and told me that it’s not over. Not yet. Lily wouldn’t want me to give it all up. She left me with this for a reason. I would still fight thanks to Lily.
The first four periods went by in a rush that day. When you are waiting for something bad to happen, it usually does. So when the time came and the bell rung, I made my way to lunch. I made it to the table Lily once sat at with me. I knew that the chairs there would never be occupied by anyone but me. Even with the bit of sadness aching inside of me, I sat down and awaited for the nightmares to come. I listened to the clashing of forks and banging of dishes, the usual chaos in the lunchroom. Behind me a younger student sat banging on his plate like he was urging on a fight. When I turned to look up, they were standing there towering over me.This time the second boy spoke up. “Let's get this over quickly REFUGEE.” He screamed the last words as he tipped my chair. My body fell against the cold hard floor, and with a hard bang my head met the wall with a wild whip. I felt like vomiting, the pain was so bad. I still held firm and tough.
“You haven't won!” I croaked, “Being called a refugee doesn’t shame me. It’s my badge of strength!” I spit out the last words in terrible English. The boys, too stunned to do anymore, walked away, defeated.
The bullies left me alone after that day. Every time I saw them, I was not only reminded of my pride, but of Lily. Of course, it seemed like she was always on my mind, pushing me to do greater things. Even in my dreams she was there. Sometimes, she was visiting me at my very poor home or even feeding my malnourished body. Most of all, she’s coming back to school, and back to me. Though, I know better. As a young boy from Syria, you can’t dream. Dreaming,it seems, is the only thing that I’m not capable of. I’ve proven throughout these years what I CAN do. That is what makes me even more proud to wear the badge of a refugee.