Personal Narrative: Happy To Be Alive

1050 words - 4 pages

Personal Narrative: Happy To Be Alive

People often ask why I seem to be so happy; my usual reply is "because
I'm alive".

It was six days after my eleventh birthday, so naturally I was happy,
but by the end of this day there are feelings I had that I never knew
existed.

I recall my primary six teacher asking my class to gather round her as
she had something to tell us. She said that a man had gone into a
primary school in Dunblane and started shooting at innocent children.
The thought that someone could this came to me as a great shock but I
did not even consider what might have happened to my cousin, Emma, who
lives there. In all honesty I had forgotten about her.

It wasn't until I walked past my house window after school and I could
see my mum crying, I filled up with worry but the thought of what had
happened to my cousin still never entered my mind. I looked at her,
then my mum said my cousin's name. It felt like my legs had just
disintegrated. I could not stand. I filled up with both crushing
emotion and devastating anger. The reason for my tears was obvious but
the answer for my aggression plagued my mind endlessly. I found myself
unable to look at anyone. The room was filled with loved ones who were
going through the exact same as I was yet each look came across as so
patronising.

I felt the only way to get away from the pain and anguish that
encircled the living room was to go to my room. I sat alone in
silence. This silence made my anger grow until I lashed out; I began
to hit the wall repeatedly. The more pain I felt the more I hit. I
wanted to try and feel some of the pain my cousin might have. I don't
even think I came to within an inch of it. I didn't stop, until my mum
dragged my emotionless body away. She looked in my eyes. Then came an
awkward silence that felt like an eternity. She could not say
anything. She gave me the one thing I needed the most, love.

As my cousin came from my dad's side of the family I knew I would have
difficulty when I would have to see or speak to him. I saw him that
night. It was as I expected. He was hurting, maybe more than I was.
Seeing my dad looking so weak was an awful sight. All the life that
I'm used to seeing in him had been slowly drained away. I wanted to
stay with...

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