Friday, May 31, 2019

Fighting for Inner-peace :: Personal Narrative Essay Example

Fighting for Inner-peace I am fighting for inner-peace. I know this is a paradox, and Im rather proud because it is true. Passivity has been a lifelong threat, laziness a constant lure in my search for identity. This world begs me to succumb to existing in the image of someone else, it asks only that I slip silently and blindly into the niche it provides instead of carving my own. I required a long m to work up courage to fight for the serenity I had glimpsed in the woods in summer and in lovingly grantled books read late until the earlyish morning. Doubt had established itself in my mind at some early age, when or why I do not know, and I could trust any person or group more than myself. Doubt begat fear, and fear gave birth to obscuring myself from the eyes of the world while I was a child. Now, I am sacred to the fight, after over five years of fear and immobility. I rejected the easiest way out of life, and demanded truth. I reinforced my body as I strengthened my mind against the attacks I faced. When I was fifteen I started Tae Kwon Do, the martial arts class that was offered through my school. I learned more about blocking, kicking, and punching in the root two weeks of that class than I had known my entire life. My once powerless body, petite and thin, could knock the wind out of someone with a well set punch, and I could kick people taller than me in the head. So what I could do, I did, and now my friends instinctively block when they see me grin mischievously in their direction. I am content to know I have taught them something useful. Last spring for the third time in a row, I shakily accepted my teachers hand as he congratulated me on second place in womens division sparring. It was a bittersweet triumph, three times now I have preoccupied to the same girl. She has become an icon for everything I wish to triumph over in this world. She is beautiful, hair similar black silk, impeccable taste in clothing,makeup like a Renaissance paint ing, and average when it comes to everything else. I watch her silently stride into art class on three inch heels, skirt above her knee, no runs in her stockings, and manicured nails smoothing invisible wrinkles from he shirt.

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