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Reflection on writing personal narrative
Reflection on writing personal narrative
Reflection on writing personal narrative
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Oh, summer! The warmth of the sun as it hits your face, the coconut smell that lies around your skin as you apply sunscreen, the water in the distance as it reverses and forms a wave. A wave so salty it could dry up anything in the blink of an eye. And then it hits you. The reality, not the wave. That those days of swimming and splashing, are far behind. Now all the fun there is left for you is the damaging hours that you spend waiting for the sun to kiss your skin with its golden beauty. All there is left is a bunch of divas laying around in bathing suits as tiny as sea shells, that scream and screech at the sound of seagulls. Welcome to a summer in the Hamptons.
Monica and I, or more like Monica dragging me, had the whole summer planned
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Can’t a girl just drink some soda without being policed?” she gave a smirk that was playful, and then instantly took a chug and rested her face back to sadness.
“Policed? Now you have outdone yourself with the compliments” I laughed and then stopped, giving the indication that she had to cut the crap. “Pass me the-”
“Japanese soda?” she passed me the tall curvy bottle that resembled Kim K’s body in a tight, air choking dress.
“You know me too well,” she nodded in victory “and so do I, so before I pop out the champagne and go all Amy Winehouse on you, you better tell me.” She knew that I didn’t drink, but she knew I was impatient when it came to her feelings and I would do anything to know what was up. I had to know.
“It’s this whole Talia thing. This summer was supposed to be perfect! You know it was, right?” I nodded “I planned it to the T!” She grasped the sugar tray and I stopped her hand before she could pour it into her glass. She sighed “ She knew that I had the beach house and four bedrooms. Oh! That stinking little B-” “Witch!” I interrupted, it was a feminist thing. “Very funny- I bet she knew about Jonne!” she sounded like a detective as I came in with my gravel and crushed her case. “Oh no honey, we all knew about Jonne, it really was not that unpredictable…” She frowned and we burst into
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And as I see all there is, are two losers standing by a bar, drunk on soda...oh and by themselves. Goodbye Monica, hope you don’t mind that I took all the travel size shampoos.” She finished it off with attitude and continued with a dance out the door that consisted of a rock of her hips and a finger up in the sky.
“Ugh! That B-” “Witch” I interrupted, once again, a feminist thing.
Monica, caving in back to her old self, expressed frown lines that I had never seen before in such a young face. Her eyes turned pitch black, as a dark force took over her. Anger. A feeling she had never experienced before. It steered so deep her soul became depicted, deconstructed, piece by piece. As the roller coaster of emotions went on her eyes lit, with lightbulbs of redness. Aggressively, she snatched her phone out of her pocket and texted the one name she should not have tested. Louisa.
Let me refresh you on the subject of Louisa. She was a horrible influence towards, well anyone she hung out with. Especially, Monica. She turned her into an addict. That girl that you see in movies that was given the label trouble. Lounging over some bar, surrounded by a bunch of creeps, living a Y.O.L.O life. Well, I believe that was an accurate representation of this dynamic
"...Soda," I grumbled finally. If I was being totally honest, a small part of me was kind of glad Two-Bit was calling Soda.
Over the years, the girls decided on very different paths leaving the other one and their hometown behind. Barrett’s choice of first person plural shows that even though they were two distinctively separate people now, they were still tightly held together by their lack of closure. As each had their own idea of closure, “All Bianca wanted to do was to keep her sister in touch with a part of the world she persistently denied” (135). This shows that Bianca felt that reconnecting with the past would allow both her sister and her to fully heal. As all Bianca needed was her sister’s desire to talk about the past with her. However, Rose wanted nothing more than to forget the past and bury herself in work, “We didn’t call on Suky that day, because Rose continued to resist the idea as if it, not the potion, were poison” (137). Rose thought that digging up the past was like death, offering nothing good to the girls. The girls’ extreme differences in ideas of closure caused them to fall even further apart. After that night in the lab, they never were able to talk about it or be as close as hoped, “Our lives continued like this for almost a decade, until our father got sick and we went to Hammondsport to see him. During the time of his dying we saw each other intensely, intently, but
In Melinda Sordino’s freshman year of high school she encounters many conflicts, one of the biggest is that she must communicate with her parents about what is taking place in her life. On Thanksgiving morning, Melinda’s mother struggles preparing her store for Black Friday and the big dinner for that night. When Melinda enters the kitchen her mother sends her to the TV to watch the parades. After a while, she decides to go back to the kitchen for soda, where her mother instead, “pours her orange juice, which [she] can’t drink because it burns [her] scabby lips” (58). Mrs. Sordino’s oblivion towards Melinda makes it harder for her to communicate with her parents.The miscommunication throughout the family is what tears it apart, separating it
Hollow eyes glanced around the pristine apartment, the gray scale color scheme seems to match the women clasping her hands together, pursing her lips and searching for approval from the girl that stood in the doorway. Automatically, the girl deduced the woman was quite wealthy, especially in the neighborhood she'd now live in. The streets were busier, filled with nicer cars instead of busted ones without their fenders falling apart at the edge. Her nimble fingers explored the wall as she took careful steps into the living room. Winnie wasn't acclimated to this life style: the wallpaper wasn't being striped at the corners, stainless carpets without nothing questionable left behind, no sign of undesirable critters, and silence. She could finally
“Well little guy, it’s been fun,” she said with a smile as she gathered a pool of saliva in the middle of her tongue in preparation to swallow.
She continues in this sequel to talk about the abuse she faced and the dysfunction that surrounded her life as a child and as a teen, and the ‘empty space’ in which she lived in as a result. She talks about the multiple personalities she was exhibiting, the rebellious “Willie” and the kind “Carol”; as well as hearing noises and her sensory problems. In this book, the author puts more emphasis on the “consciousness” and “awareness” and how important that was for her therapeutic process. She could not just be on “auto-pilot” and act normal; the road to recovery was filled with self-awareness and the need to process all the pieces of the puzzle—often with the guidance and assistance of her therapist. She had a need to analyze the abstract concept of emotions as well as feelings and thoughts. Connecting with others who go through what she did was also integral to her
“Garcia from criminal minds.” I responded. “Oh. No one is gonna know who you are Bethany.” She said, with a humorous grin on her face. “ I don’t care. I think I look cute.” I said proudly. I walked to the bonfire after grabbed a hotdog and sat next to Finn Eckart, and A girl I had not met. She had brown hair and brown eyes, she was stick thin and sipping out of a red cup. “Hi, I’m Bethany. Have we met?” I asked. This wasn’t something I normally did. I stuck with my crowd. Which mainly was just my best friend Rebecca Pillar and I. “I’m Sadie.” She responded. “Oh, I’ve never seen you before.” I said, wondering if she would give me more information. “Yeah, I just moved here from a base in Texas.” She replied. “Oh okay. So you’re parents are in the military?” I asked. “My dad.” She responded. “Oh okay.” I said nodding. I was going to say more but suddenly a girl who looked my age ran up to Sadie. “Sadie, they’re going to play Hide N’ Seek, are you coming?” She asked. “Umm yeah.” I got up and walked with Sadie. “Brooke this is
“Well, I know that I’m going to screw Jason, just as soon as his plane touches down in Virginia. As for Boogie, I don’t think I’m going to pursue him after I rejected him already. I am very curious about Diamond, though. I would like to know where they met and how often he’s been with her” I said. “Honey, trust me you don’t want to know about the personal stuff because you’ll never be able to get it out of your head” Latria assured, as she continued to dig in her purse. “What on earth are you looking for?” I asked as Latria pulled out some crumpled
“I see you’re drinking water. Is it safe for me to say that you don’t drink?” I asked with one eye braw higher than the other.
When she was singing before,” said Sonny, abruptly, “her voice reminded me for a minute of what heroin feels like sometimes-when it’s in your veins. It makes you feel sort of warm and cool at the same time. And distant. And- and sure.” He sipped his beer, very deliberately not looking at me.
Davie looked up, then shook his head a little, an aggravating habit he'd picked up from that bitch Amanda. Without a word, he went to the cupboard and poured himself another cup of coffee.
"I told ya so she was pretty sis, didn't I?" he grinned, as his older sister carefully filled the cup nearly almost to the brim with some hot tea, while a small container of sugar added two lumps to it.
Although it seemed like we had a lot in common being actresses, I wanted to end our conversation and talk with other interesting people. After all, I was at a Gatsby party! This was the nicest party I had ever attended, and I was determined to meet people even though I didn’t want to come in the first place. When Marion Davies turned around to grab a glass of champagne, I made a run for it. I saw another woman I had seen in the movie Pretty Ladies, so I introduced
“Are you kidding?” she proclaimed. “This stuff is way out of my price range. It’s the caviar of the sushi world. Only ultra rich snobs get to enjoy stuff like this.”
Fortunately, I didn’t have to ponder what to do for too much longer because, just then, the door to the occupied stall swung open and a strikingly tall, slim girl stepped out, still zipping her pants. “There, have as much as you like!” she said, as a form of greeting, in the same intoxicated voice. She was...