personal narrative
personal narrativeI am a very complicated person. Or is that weird? Unusual? Maybe it’s eccentric, I really don’t know. I think the best word to describe myself is unique. But then again, everyone is unique in their own way, but isn’t that exactly what unique means? Doing things different than everyone else…. being yourself, and completely unlike the rest of the world. See now I’m babbling, I have a tendency to do that when I get nervous. Now I’m thinking, why am I writing that I’m nervous? Why should I be nervous? This is just some silly little personal narrative that I have to do for some not so silly little high school English class. But it’s more than that. It is the beginning of things I can’t even fathom. It’s the window into the first major writing assignment of my junior year; it is the porthole into my inner being. Have you ever seen “Being John Malkovich?” Well, I haven’t but I’m pretty sure it’s something about John Cusack finding a hidden door in his office or something that when walked through transports you into John Malkovich’s head. Well, this paper is that door and I am John Malkovich. And that scares me. I am really a coward at heart. Or at least, I think I am. It’s pretty funny that I see myself that way because if you were to ask one of my friends they would probably tell you that I had pretty big “cajones.” It is so strange that the way you perceive yourself and the way others see you can be so dissimilar.
I am always afraid to get up in front of the class to speak. It terrifies me. When the moment is rapidly approaching and I know that in approximately 2 minutes I am going to have to get out of my chair, walk to the front of the class and be stared down by my peers, my heart starts to pound in my chest. Tension sets in. The sweat starts to trickle down from my brow and my voice begins to shake. My name is called; the Moment of Reckoning is upon me. Every thought in my head dissipates as I take position at the podium, or what have you, and then the strangest thing happens. I’m perfectly fine. And I wasted a good worry for no reason. Once I got going, there was no stopping me.
Did I mention what a huge dork I am? I don’t think so. But trust me; I get the gold medal here. I can sit and play FreeCell for hours on end. I have every single episode of Dawson’s Creek on tape. If ever a sesame seed should grace my food with it’s presence, I must scrape it off...
To view the complete essay, you be registered.