Personal Narrative - I Don’t Want to Cry :: Personal Narrative

I Dont Want to cryTo nighttime, I punched a child in the stomach. He gasped for air, his face grew red, and his eye got watery. Granted, we were at Karate class and we were sparring. And, granted, I was 19 and he was likely 10. I hadnt meant to injure him I had actu totallyy been going light. But I appall him. The fact is, he knew it and didnt c be. He could have go on the night without a single economic rent. But when the Shihan came to try and make him obtain better, the boys face got redder and his lip quivered as that single tear turn over down his cheek. The boy was perfectly bewitching until he was consoled. When I was younger, I wasnt the most popular. I was known as a scholastic who much dazed off in class, all the spot cosmos admired by the teachers for my intelligence. I was short, wore glasses, didnt talk much, and plainly had 2 friends in my grade. I was, expectedly, picked on by the bigger kids. I was hurt several times. However, I hid it from my teachers and parents. I didnt want to cry. And I was fine without clamorous I merely accepted the beating and went on, nerve-racking to cancel or get back at the bullies. Girls are taught at an premature age that they can cry. The sight of a girl with divide discharge down her cheeks inspires compassion, while a boys tears experience mostly embarrassment. Girls are also ingrained with the fact that females are thither for each other, and can therefore support one other emotionally. Women frequently talk of how refreshed a good cry is, as if it were a long bath or a cigarette. But guys get dressedt cry. Pop psychology tells us that this is because men see crying as negative. Because we cant accept our feelings and are scared at the locution of them. So this boy was too scared to cry until the instructor let him know it was OK? Hogwash. A Karate instructor, like a coach, wants to reinforcement half-size boys from crying whenever possible. It isnt fair that a mans despise of being forced to cry makes others think he is all bottled up inside.Personal Narrative - I Dont Want to phone Personal NarrativeI Dont Want to CryTonight, I punched a child in the stomach. He gasped for air, his face grew red, and his eyes got watery. Granted, we were at Karate class and we were sparring. And, granted, I was 19 and he was likely 10. I hadnt meant to hurt him I had actually been going light. But I hurt him. The fact is, he knew it and didnt care. He could have continued the night without a single tear. But when the Shihan came to try and make him feel better, the boys face got redder and his lip quivered as that single tear rolled down his cheek. The boy was perfectly fine until he was consoled. When I was younger, I wasnt the most popular. I was known as a bookworm who frequently dazed off in class, all the while being admired by the teachers for my intelligence. I was short, wore glasses, didnt talk much, and on ly had 2 friends in my grade. I was, expectedly, picked on by the bigger kids. I was hurt several times. However, I hid it from my teachers and parents. I didnt want to cry. And I was fine without crying I merely accepted the beating and went on, trying to avoid or get back at the bullies. Girls are taught at an early age that they can cry. The sight of a girl with tears running down her cheeks inspires compassion, while a boys tears bring mostly embarrassment. Girls are also ingrained with the fact that females are there for each other, and can therefore support one another emotionally. Women frequently talk of how refreshed a good cry is, as if it were a long bath or a cigarette. But guys dont cry. Pop psychology tells us that this is because men see crying as negative. Because we cant accept our feelings and are scared at the expression of them. So this boy was too scared to cry until the instructor let him know it was OK? Hogwash. A Karate instructor, like a c oach, wants to keep little boys from crying whenever possible. It isnt fair that a mans dislike of being forced to cry makes others think he is all bottled up inside.