Personal Narrative Essay: Emerson Catholic High School

1790 Words 8 Pages
I did not realize what was happening until after the warm colored leaves had disappeared beneath the snow, quite like my old self had disappeared beneath my new self. It was December and, I had always hated the winter months. That winter was supposed to bring record-breaking cold weather, and living in northern Illinois meant frostbite galore. All I did those days was sit in a box (I’ve called school) for eight hours, and get home with eight more hours of homework. At least I had homework to get my mind off of it, at least for a little while I could still be sane. Emerson Catholic High School was not so terrible, but I came into it from a public middle school, and it was not like everyone was in the same boat because all of the private school …show more content…
We texted back and forth, arguing about which group we could go in, where pictures would be taken, and the whole nine yards. This situation frustrated me so much that I had to turn off my phone for a while and panic. I told myself to go with whatever group he wanted, but I did not have the guts to be in a group with classmates I did not know, so I decided not to go at all. Maybe it was not just the poor planning. I really did have a lot of anxiety about going to my first school dance. Boys had always come around and tried so hard to get to know me, but I never had the self-esteem to even try to get to know them. I ran away and wondered, why they liked me of all the girls that went to this school. I was not special at …show more content…
Then I realized home was the other way and wondered where we were going; she told me it was a surprise. But soon enough, we were at Skywalk and I was so angry with her. Lucky for her, I cooperated and followed her inside because I knew deep down that I really did need some guidance. I did not want there to be anything wrong with me anymore. The building smelled like a bar of soap and the furniture was so dated, but I sat in it anyway while I waited for my name to be called. About ten minutes later a tall, lanky woman with dark, wiry hair came out from behind the wooden door. “Abbey,” she called out with a kind smile. I stood up carefully, and made my way to the door where she was standing. My mother greeted her and watched as I followed the woman down a narrow hallway of conference

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