Autobiography

Sorry guys! This wouldn't work on any of my computers or my friend's computers so this is the first one it's worked on. Sorry!!!

Innocent vacation to New York turned into a blood frenzy with a four year old girl left with thirty-seven stitches in one finger. Became ambidextrous.

Figure skating since I was two, I fell while practicing and sprained my hip. I was becoming a grandma at age nine. Ice became my best friend.

In fifth grade my school forced us to take an instrument. On top of the annoying “practice points” we did for homework, we had many annual concerts. Flute in hand, I strutted down the hallway ready for this concert. With my one-inch heels and my fancy black dress, I was the star. Owning the hallway catwalk, I fall and break my thumb. Show over. No more flute playing for me...definetly not a let down.

Tennis became the sport for me. For a couple summers, Wisconsin hosted a camp just for tennis. Playing for nine hours a day, I developed shin splints. Starting at seven in the morning until noon, we ran and practiced sprints. One in the afternoon until six was strictly for skill improving. Seven at night to nine at night was for playing matches. The weekends were our three-day tournaments.

At age eleven, I was diagnosed with the growing disease Osgood Schlatters. Walking became very difficult for me. Hearing my alarm go off in the morning and putting my cold feet on my warm carpet was the worst feeling. Most mornings, I would even fall from my knees giving out on me and not being able to support myself. Falling became a second nature to me. I finally grew out of it and was the same exact height as before. The irony amused me…only a little.

The hospital became my second home by age thirteen. I almost became immune to the x-rays and MRI’s because I had so many of them. My chronic back pain was not healed by physical therapy. Running out of options for pain relief. I’m on a first name basis with the doctors: at least I have more friends.

Final Draft

“You really think this room is clean?!” I sarcastically say to my boyfriend.
“Yeah, everything has its place on the floor.”

My heart has its place with the swimming pool. The temperature, the waves, the smell, everything-belongs to me.
I remember the first time my mother took me to the pool. One small inner tube, two huge floaties, and one lifejacket later, I was a pro. Once it was time to leave, I cried for hours on end wishing to go back to that pool.

I felt like I was swimming through clothes in my boyfriend’s room. I guess that’s what college does to you: dirties you up.
Within forty-eight hours, he leaves to go fulfill his dream and I’m stuck in high school. You can cross out glamorous lifestyle from my resume.

The minute my toes touch the surface of the water, my thoughts melt away. Nothing bothers me while I’m in that pool. It’s me and the chlorine. I don’t think anyone understands the feeling of complete emptiness until you are under that water. Silence surrounds me.
I swim with a necklace given to me from my mom. My dad gave it to her more than forty years ago as a way to show his love to her. It’s my good luck charm.
*** *** ***
My boyfriend gave me some shirts as a reminder of him during our soon-to-be long distance relationship. One more good luck charm to add. While packing him up for college, I start to think what I had given him during our relationship, and if that was enough.
I smear Burt’s Bees all over my lips while watching this slide show of our relationship run through my head. Layer after layer, I cover what’s hiding underneath. My true fears are too scared to come to the surface.

My first swimming and diving meet took place only six years after I first touched the beautiful water. Step after step, getting higher and higher to that diving board, my nerves overtake me. Close to passing out, I took one long, deep breath. Next thing I knew, I was submerged in the chilled water almost eleven feet into the ground. Nerves vanish into calm energy. Fighting for air, I swam to the surface. I see the results: 9.6 all across the board. I knew I had won the meet.

Tears rush out of my eyes like fish swimming away from a shark.
“Jordan, Jordan, it’s alright. We’ll talk everyday while I’m gone. I’ll count the days until I come back. I’ll be thinking about you every night. We still have two more days until I leave,” Christian pleads, scared himself.
“I love you,” I whisper as the Burt’s Bees melt off my lips.

Loud screams come from my parents in the bleachers. I receive my gold medal for the Juniors Dive Meet. My first gold medal. It’ll look perfect on my nightstand.
One large celebratory dinner later, my sister says she’s proud of me and gives me flowers. An extremely nice gesture for her to do, I think to myself. And then, my parents say those three words that strike my heart, “We love you.”

The gold medal is made of my dreams. I never participated in a diving meet. I’ve only swam if it was on vacation. I’m afraid of heights. Jumping off a twelve foot high dive is not my cup of tea.
Just one more detail you can cross off of my list of accomplishments, or lack there of.

Baffled by my confession just two little days before he leaves, Christian mirrors what I had said.
College is the most exciting time of your life, and it haunts me everyday knowing I can’t be right next to my boy living our lives together. On days I miss him the most, I wear the shirts he gave me, so I always have him close to my heart.

Seven hour school days, three hours of homework minimum each night, and college applications is anything but the dream Christian is out pursuing. Who I am, who I want to become, what I want to study is all up in thin air. While drowning through boring and tedious weekdays, I try to remember the reason why I work so hard and why I stay so strong. The answer is still unclear to me.

Collage Second Page

*** ***
My boyfriend gave me some shirts as a reminder of him during our soon-to-be long distance relationship. One more good luck charm to add. While packing him up for college, I start to think what I had given him during our relationship, and if that was enough.
I smear Burt’s Bees all over my lips while watching this slide show of our relationship run through my head. Layer after layer, I cover what’s hiding underneath. My true fears are too scared to come to the surface.

My first swimming and diving meet took place only six years after I first touched the beautiful water. Step after step, getting higher and higher to that diving board, my nerves overtake me. Close to passing out, I took one long, deep breath. Next thing I knew, I was submerged in the chilled water almost eleven feet into the ground. Nerves vanish into calm energy. Fighting for air, I swam to the surface. I see the results: 9.6 all across the board. I knew I had won the meet.

Tears rush out of my eyes like fish swimming away from a shark.
“Jordan, Jordan, it’s alright. We’ll talk everyday while I’m gone. I’ll count the days until I come back. I’ll be thinking about you every night. We still have two more days until I leave,” Christian pleads, scared himself.
“I love you,” I whisper as the Burt’s Bees melt off my lips.

Loud screams come from my parents in the bleachers. I receive my gold medal for the Juniors Dive Meet. My first gold medal. It’ll look perfect on my nightstand.
One large celebratory dinner later, my sister says she’s proud of me and gives me flowers, Extremely nice gesture for her to do, I think to myself. And then, my parents say those three words that strike my heart, “We love you.”

The gold medal is made of my dreams. I never participated in a diving meet. I’m afraid of heights. Jumping off a twelve foot high dive is not my cup of tea.
Just one more detail you can cross off of my list of accomplishments, or lack there of.

Collage

“You really think this room is clean?!” I sarcastically say to my boyfriend.
“Yeah, everything has its place on the floor.”

My heart has its place with the swimming pool. The temperature, the waves, the smell, everything-belongs to me.
I remember the first time my mother took me to the pool. One small inner tube, two huge floaties, and one lifejacket later, I was a pro. Once it was time to leave, I cried for hours on end wishing to go back to that pool.

I felt like I was swimming through clothes in my boyfriend’s room. I guess that’s what college does to you: dirties you up.
Within forty-eight hours, he leaves to go fulfill his dream and I’m stuck in high school. You can cross out glamorous lifestyle from my resume.

The minute my toes touch the surface of the water, my thoughts melt away. Nothing bothers me while I’m in that pool. It’s me and the chlorine. I don’t think anyone understands the feeling of complete emptiness until you are under that water. Silence surrounds me.
I swim with a necklace give to me from my mom. My dad gave it to her more than forty years ago as a way to show his love to her. It’s my good luck charm.