Personal Narrative: My Personal Beliefs

Ever since growing up I always believed in myself to never giving up, especially, on my beliefs. My beliefs represent me and I represent them. Although I may stand firmly on them, moments in life, change my position. I remember getting picked on for being an asthmatic, not able to go and play with kids my age, whether, it was hiking, sledding, ice skating, swimming, any sport really, except chess. Chess was a mental game where I was in control, crushing opponents with the guile horse. Anyhow, being an asthmatic did provide with some benefits, I could not clean the house, smell perfume or cologne, I was restricted to chemicals and if I did not have to attend school on snowy days.
‘I am an almighty god’ I chanted in my head. Instead of being

confined with this condition I would usually spend my days outside and fight. I told myself that asthmatics are stronger because we know what it feels like to not have air, to stare at the sky and wait for our air ducts to open, to be aware that we are still trying to grasp the slightest oxygen that would warm up our bodies. Even if there were medications, such as albuterol, I despised them, medications can help you and internally destroy you. My rebellious mind repudiated supplements that ‘suppress’ my asthmatic symptoms. I did not believe that medications would make you feel invincible one day and the next day you would feel deteriorated and this process is a cycle. You become strong then weak, good then bad, okay then horrible, alright then miserable and so on.
Sirens were always on my mind every school year, the rushing of ambulances and EMTs, faces who stared at me while I laid on the floor pleading for air, teachers feeling sorry for me, this feeling I abhor.

This happened at least twice a year till 7th grade. I’m not weak, I said to myself angrily. When I hear sirens now I still can’t get the feeling of helplessness out of my mind. The sirens are calling to me and tell me to become a pulmonologist… they tell me and beg me to serve as their guide, to make a difference in the lives of children who believe themselves to be weak and who confine themselves because their conscience has been adulterated with medication. As for me, although I do get some symptoms in the night (clothes hung by a rope across my room with an extraneous smell), I deal to live with it by believing I am stronger and as time passes so does the circumference of my air

ducts.
Living with sirens and flashing red and yellow lights I decided to push myself beyond the knowledge that confined my awareness of the countless lives that this disease has stolen.

I had to go to Manhattan Hunter Science High School! I needed to experience and embrace the concepts of its prestigious title, ‘Science’, if I wanted to find a cure for asthma then this was the school. Sixth, seventh and eighth grade were for me to shine and although, I was in a terrible accident at school, having amputated my finger and missing class for almost a month, I did my best to come out first. No one will hammer me down and I meant it, I whispered to myself with a new sense of determination.
I believed that I would be able to attend freshman year at my destined high school but, I become instantly hopeless with my aspirations when reading that I was declined. Disappointed with myself I found a greater reason to go to ‘my high school’ and this was my first stepping stone. I advocated why I would be a good candidate with the tiny, tired, principal. She pushed me away and told me that all the spots were filled for freshmen year but I suggested Sophomore year as a silver

lining.