Personal Narrative Analysis

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As I took my first steps in life, I ended up trapped in a storm. On October 26th, 1997, I was brought into this world on a serene island that embodies all that is paradise: the unfamiliar island of Roatán 80 miles off the coast of mainland Honduras. The next year, on the very same day, I survived the turbulent storm recognized as the deadliest storm in the Atlantic. We never came home; there was nothing to come home to. My 19-year-old mother relinquished her promises to that land in pursuit of my well-being. She came to the U.S. with a dream on her back and hope in her heart fighting with the doubts of her mind. However, she let her passion and determination overtake any hesitation her mind presented. As a child, I was an actress; the classroom…show more content…
Using the determination inherited from my mother, I kept setting my own goals to keep challenging myself. However, the only person who acknowledged this determination was myself. My mom was working three jobs at the time and in the small window of time I had the privilege to brag to her about my achievements, she usually used to express the agony she had to withstand on a daily basis while running on little sleep. She would dismiss any achievement I begged for her to appreciate, which left me unsure of her feelings towards me. I concluded that she was just enduring this suffering for my well-being and, in return, I set another goal to reciprocate for her suffering: everything I was going to do was for her. My mother married a man when I reached my teen years. He made her radiate with an unfamiliar contentment that showed me how much my mother depended on this man for her stability. I felt the opposite: uncomfortable and skeptical of his intentions. However, I was not going to let her lose that when she had already given up so much for me. This man committed an act on me which triggered a range of emotions from confusion to utter…show more content…
The illustrious child glistening with potential, had now burnt out. Overcoming my thoughts became my greatest challenge and I was failing repeatedly. The only solution I found was death, and in attempting this during school all I can remember was the difficulty breathing and in distinguishing reality from hallucination. I spent months without human contact except that of interviewers and needles. I also had a small window to watch the autumn turn to the bitter winter that came that year. With it, I yearned to be embraced by a mother’s warmth. I came home on a bright day within the transition of spring to summer, and the sun had never shined brighter. It was complete euphoria; the trees pleasantly shook in the caress of the wind; the voices in the crowd were harmonious, and the world seemed filled with opportunity. In this new world I came to recognize, I knew that returning to my self-driven nature was all more possible and the reasonable thing to do. The following school year I was able to rise back onto the stage not only in the classroom, but I stepped outside of the classroom as well. Although I could barely keep myself standing, I surprisingly made soccer and volleyball teams. I was participated in

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