I watch my grandfather unhurriedly lose his life in. As I walk away in desperation of wanting to see my grandfather one last time I turn my head back to see his wrinkly‚ run down face and he cracks his last smile at me and attempts to lift his limp arm to wave and be strong for me‚ the door closes. When the doctors closed the doors my mouth felt dry‚ my body felt weak‚ and my breathe felt cold and slowly but surely I felt as if a piece of my soul was being ripped out. I had looked at my mother as
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My First High School Basketball Game I believe playing a sport that you love is fun‚ but at the same time winning is more fun. For me I figured this out when I was ten years old. I was playing a pickup game at the RAC and my brother hit the game winning shot. I was so happy because I gave him the assists. Then it came to me like I bolt of lightning that playing basketball is fun when you win. Ever since that moment it helped me perform to my full potential. It was cold snowy Saturday morning
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In the summer going into freshman year‚ my grandpa said to me he expected a state ring. I told him that was impossible. A freshman doesn’t get a varsity spot‚ especially with as much talent the upperclassmen have. Little did I know that anything is possible when I put my mind to it. My first sport in high school was soccer and I wasn’t prepared for the amount of fitness I needed. I thought that I was in shape‚ but I was in for a rude awakening. The first practice we ran the entire time. I hated
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I remind myself‚ as I run my first high school 5k. I was nearing the final‚ lit up and glowing soccer stadium. Tall bleachers filled with people surrounded and hovered over the field like a vulture over it’s dead prey. Prior to this race‚ I had only ran one high school race‚ a 3k. Even though I had trained all summer long‚ my hamstring problems that had started a while ago‚ we’re just then beginning to clear up. This meet though‚ wasn’t near home‚ like the first meet. 3.75 hours out‚ Jackson
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hears the minute bell ring. Its her first day attending Willow Canyon High School. Her first class is ceramics‚ she loves hands on projects so she believes that this class will be her favorite. On her schedule it says all 7 classes: Period 2- English‚ Period 3- Algebra 1-2‚ Period 4- Lunch‚ Period- 5 Money Management‚ Period 5- Biology‚ Period 7- Girls P.E. She is very excited for this year to start. My First class is ceramics. I have loved this class since day one because I love hands on projects
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this anymore. I thought‚ trying to focus on writing down my math homework and zone out the laughter surrounding me. I know- melodramatic eighth graders‚ everyone hates ’em. But I’m different- I swear. You just don’t know the whole story. It started when I walked into this wretched class. The worst thing in the history of bad things ever happening to people happened- I tripped. I know‚ oh the horror! But that’s not just it. I tripped. On my TIED shoelaces. And fell. And people stared. And Aaaughhhghgh
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January of my freshmen year. These same kids who bullied me in middle school were acting like my good friends cheering me on whether it was my failing effort in Gotcha or chanting “chug‚ chug‚ chug” as I ruined my small stomach. Just hours ago‚ I had slowly crept on the bus‚ book in hand‚ to be dissected by the eyes of 50 upperclassmen‚ swiftly dismissed as I scampered to a seat in the very front‚ feeling very alone. I hoped and prayed that no one would ask for my name. All the memories of my lisp and
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he now that you looked? "He is an officer" I said trying not to cry‚ my lower lip trembling slightly. "Holtan now start pushing and don ’t stop til I come back‚ because im the command sergeant major of this base." Screamed Command sergeant major Martinez. After high school I decided to go and serve my country in the United States Army. I signed up January of 2002‚ my senior year of high school to be a medic. My official first day in the Army was August 22nd 2002. I arrived in Columbia‚ South Carolina
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I remember it like it was yesterday. Elementary school; second grade; Ms. Rubright’s class to be exact. We were being lined up like cattle going to the slaughterhouse‚ so we could go on a bathroom break in an orderly fashion. My teacher called on my table‚ and we stood up and walked over to the line being as quiet as church mice; since that was what was expected by our teacher. It almost seemed like a medieval form of punishment‚ the way they made us wait half a century before we could actually
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was actually a pretty nice person. I had a somewhat unremarkable life‚ except for my mom being gone. I lived with my dad and my 7-year old brother in the suburbs. Life was hard sometimes‚ but I got through it. Eventually it came to the first day of school yet again. It was a typical first day of school. Rushing to get ready‚ finding the perfect outfit‚ cliche first-day-of-school pictures. When I got to school‚ everything was normal. Life was good. But‚ in a weird class I had called “Creative
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