Personal Narrative: My Hero's Journey

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“It is hard for me to talk about how I feel.”, she said in a hushed voice. “I do not know where to start.” “Why don't you start from the top, the very beginning, where it all started?” I said back. It was in a park by my house when she showed me her scars. My heart dropped. I can remember that part clearly, but what happened after that is not something I can recall. Over the summer we would hang out a decent amount of times. She was the same age as I am. She says things no one would think to say. She would call me late at night because she could never sleep. She was tired all the time. I still remember laughing at when we would talk and she would pass out mid sentence. One night things seemed off though. She did not call, text, or give me…show more content…
We walked in, the nurse directed us to the room, and I began the longest walk of my life. I did not go in. It was really hard for me to even be in the area. A hour crawls by and I hear her family saying goodbye. Her dad walks out and sits on the chair next to me. “ I do not know what you are thinking.”, he said, “ But you know how much she needs you at this moment right now.” I looked away. How am I supposed to respond? I remain sitting down. “You are the only one she can really talk to about anything.” That was it. He just got up and left saying that he is going to wait in the car and to be ready in the next…show more content…
Fear is what ran through me before I finally looked in. Her mom was holding her hand and she was sitting up. I felt this strange feeling of tearing in my chest when I saw the strips of linen around her wrist and arms. Her mother saw me then said her goodbyes and left the room. She turned to watch her leave and we made eye contact. It was almost as if someone opened dam. Tears flooded my eyes. The weight of the world was bent on crushing me against the tiled floor of the hospital. I walked over to the chair next to her bed and sat down. Silence followed for what seemed like an eternity. I kept tryong to muster up the strength to talk. All I thought of was screaming at her. She broke her promise to be clean, but you can not do that. She did not need that at that time. She needed reassurance, and I was struggling to give that to her. Finally she spoke, “How are you holding up?” I do not understand why this happened next, but I began to laugh. Maybe the weight of the world did finally get to me then or maybe it was her and what she said. She was asking me how I was doing when it should have been me asking her those types of questions. I replied back to her question “I'm okay. How about

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