young age of two I was diagnosed with a disease that did not have a cure. Luckily‚ I was spared the memory of being diagnosed‚ but I often wonder what it would be like if I had been diagnosed later in life. I was diagnosed with Type 1 Diabetes‚ an autoimmune disease that affects the body’s ability to manufacture a hormone called insulin. I have to prick my finger four times a day to get a blood sample to test my blood sugar‚ which wasn’t easy as a toddler at first‚ but eventually I became used to it
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ballFootball is life. football change everything. i started playing football when i was eleven years old. but before that‚ my father want me to play basketball. it was not nice playing basketball for me because i do not fit on these game. Here comes football which was introduce to me by may childhood friend. we always play a small sided game in our village and then i found out that i was good on it. so i trained to play football. i have been playing football for six and a half years and now‚ i am in college
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Tears poured down my face. The tears won’t stop I thought they would never stop. I laid there at night wishing someone would know. Anyone. Someone. But no one ever knew the truth because I didn’t know where they would send me‚ or what would happen to me. Then my alarm clock blared reminding that I had to go to school. I didn’t even sleep at all. But it’s been like that for days. It’s 6 AM time for school. Great‚ another day of pretending like everything’s okay. I put on a bright smile and pretend
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TX surrounded by my entire family was really a fundamental thing in my life. When i say entire‚ I mean literally all of us live a minute maybe two away from each other‚ and some of us were even neighbors. Now things are a little different and we may have scattered around all over Weslaco but we remain united and always available if one of us needed each other. My cousins and I would always be together‚ Literally 24/7. Sometimes we would fight and i look back and remember and i think it’s the funniest
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by listening to the flow of music is inexpressible. Nothing compares. My sophomore year I was given a choice: Either continue in the solo classical piano I had played my whole life‚ or join jazz band and put effort into learning a new style of music. I chose jazz. The comping‚ sight-reading‚ and working with a group of people made jazz crazily different from classical. I loved it. I would listen to jazz for hours to discover how to make the keys sing like Count Basie and Oscar Peterson.
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none of that mattered to me. All I could do was to stare at the only thing in the room that was able to grasp my attention: a shiny‚ red drum set. I migrated to the back corner of the room where it sat unoccupied‚ took my place on the stool‚ picked up some sticks‚ and immediately felt at home. At that moment‚ it was clear to me that playing music was what I was meant to do. Immediately wanting to join the band‚ I knew the only obstacle in my way would be convincing my parents. After all‚ neither one
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As the sunset tucks down‚ I space out to grasp onto thoughts of realization. Days passed by as if they were battling with the wind. I cannot embrace every memory‚ because some just happen too rapid that remembering them is ineffectual. Curiosity starts building within me due to my wonders on memories everyone knows I went through except myself. When I was twelve I opened a family album for the first time. As I flipped each page I did it in such slow motion that it was as if by flipping the pages
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have affected his/her in a good or a bad way. My experience has changed my life. At first I thought my life is over because of what happened in Syria‚ which made me move the United State. I was so depressed because of that change and I struggled to move on and face the fact that I might not be able to visit my home again. I also was going to regret not moving for my entire life. Syria is one of the most beautiful places in the world. It was my home that I was born and raised in. It is known for the
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GO!” I leap from the starting blocks and into the chilling water holding a streamline until I begin my underwater pullout. As the race continues I push myself harder and harder as I begin to fatigue until I finish. Looking up at the clock I think to myself‚ I need to go faster‚ I can go faster‚ I will go faster. I hop out of the water and take my spot in line behind my teammates‚ preparing for the second of six 100 yard breaststroke sprints from the blocks. From each team‚ BGSC to PAA to LOSC I have
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from my mother’s grasp‚ I charged. With arms flailing and chubby legs fluttering beneath me‚ I was the ferocious two year old rampaging through Costco on a Saturday morning. My mother’s eyes widened in horror as I jettisoned my churro; the cinnamonsugar rocket gracefully sliced its way through the air while I continued my spree. I sprinted through the aisles‚ looking up in awe at the massive bulk products that towered over me. Overcome with wonder‚ I wanted to touch and taste‚ to stick my head
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