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Personal Narrative

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Running head: Personal Narrative Story 1

A PERSONAL NARRATIVE STORY

NAME

INSTITUTION AFFILIATION

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Personal narrative story 2

DEATH

Ever since I was a toddler, I have always struggled with the concept of death. Whenever I think

about it, I always shudder. Death always seemed so unreal and distant to me. In fact, whenever I

heard that it has befallen somebody I knew, this would always not make sense to me. As a matter

of fact, I shunned all funerals to justify my skepticism about death. Throughout my childhood,

whenever I lost a friend, I would always assume that he or she has gone for a long commercial

break without any permission and sooner or later, the person would emerge from the self-exile.

I think probably most people may think that I was not raised on a strong religious background or

values but on the contrary, my parents were strong, unwavering Catholics who displayed their

rosaries at the slightest chance. I was attended catechism and was broadly welcomed into the

Christian family by the extensive congregation that had assembled in church on that day.

My encounter with death was rather weird. I was in high school and out of curiosity or sheer

stupidity, attended a party by one of my friends where we drunk ourselves silly. It was while

walking home that I saw a look-alike staring at me from the nearby hydro-electric dam. I was not

impressed. This is because my drunken stupor had clouded my rationalism and judgment. Most

people fear death, well, myself what I fear most is being depicted as weak or incapable. I relish

my freedom and I guard it rather jealously than a normal person would. The figure staring coldly

at me from the dam challenged this and I felt a need to retaliate. I jumped into the water dam,

with all clothes and with minimal basic swimming skills. You guessed right, everything went

pitch dark.

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1 Running head: Personal Narrative Story A PERSONAL NARRATIVE STORY NAME INSTITUTION AFFILIATION Personal narrative story 2 DEATH Ever since I was a toddler, I have always struggled with the concept of death. Whenever I think about it, I always shudder. Death always seemed so unreal and distant to me. In fact, whenever I heard that it has befallen somebody I knew, this would always not make sense to me. As a matter of fact, I shunned all funerals to justify my skepticism about death. Throughout my childhood, whenever I lost a friend, I would always assume that he or she has gone for a long commercial break without any permission and sooner or later, the person would emerge from the self-exile. I think probably most people may think that I was not raised on a strong religious background or values but on the contrary, my parents were strong, unwavering Catholics who displayed their rosaries at the slightest chance. I was attended catechism and was broadly welcomed into the Christian family by the extensive congregation that had assembled in church on that day. My encounter with death was rather weird. I was in high school and out of curiosity or sheer stupidity, attended a pa ...
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