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Story of My Life By Hunter Freeman 2021 Yesterday is history, tomorrow is a mystery, but today is a gift that is why it is called present.

Reflective essay My senior year of high school I didn’t know what I was going to do with my life. I felt that I was not worth much, and I was going to skip college and find some crappy job with a crappy boss I would have to be a slave to for the rest of my life. That’s not what I wanted to do though. Because even though I hated high school I wanted to go to college, and I wanted to finish it and get a job I actually like; a job I could be proud of and want to wake up every morning with a great attitude ready to go to work, and yes even on Mondays too. I just didn’t know what that career choice was yet. All I knew was I like to play baseball; that was my life my passion, the only thing I felt I was good at. And covid took that from me. Now I really felt that I wasn’t going to be anything special in life, but I wasn’t going to stop there, so I got to thinking I used to love to write stories of my family being super heroes and they all loved them, although I think that was because I was a little kid writing funny stories. Honestly, though, I think they were pretty good especially for how old I was at the time. I thought maybe I can put the only two things I’m good at and combine them. Sports Journalism is the thing for me. Which makes sense because my great uncle was a journalist himself and even has a movie of the war in Afghanistan called The Hornets Nest. There it was, I finally figured something out and I have loved every day of it. I want to say thank you to Mrs. Cervantes for making it easier to wake up and come to class. She is by far the best teacher I have ever had in all my years of school, and I think that everyone can agree when I say that I am very appreciative of her. Thank you, Mrs. Cervantes.

Godzilla has Chicken Pox Godzilla is back His lizard skin is dark and black But he has these red spots on his back He might be dying let’s hit him with rocks He’s not dying he has chicken pox We need to go run, run, run Assuming he isn’t here to have fun His fire breath bright much like the sun We need to leave get in the car Don’t know where we will go but it will be far Godzilla is getting closer and closer to that church full of people But he stops and stares at the sharp point of the steeple I guess fear is what you lack As you get out of the car and start to laugh And you say as you give your leg a smack He’s isn’t trying to hurt us he’s just trying to scratch his back

Play Ball Play ball, that’s a beautiful sound. It’s almost as good as the sound of cheers after a hard-earned victory. It’s almost as good as the pop noise you get from your glove when you catch a hard thrown ball. It’s almost as good as the music during the pre-game. It’s almost as good as the sound of a crack of a bat when the ball is hit hard. It’s almost as good as hearing your walk-up song before you go up to bat. All these sounds might just be a little better, but it all starts with that play ball.

Inside my Head Critical voice: You can’t do it. Writing self: Yes, I can. Critical voice: No, you can’t. Writing self: Why would you say that? Critical voice: You don’t have enough courage. Writing self: You can’t talk about not having courage. Critical voice: How so? Writing self: You just live in my head. Critical voice: And? Writing self: You don’t even have the courage to show your true self. Critical voice: That’s where you are wrong. Writing self: Is that right? Critical voice: Yes. Writing self: How do you figure that? Critical voice: You are my true self. Writing self: Huh? Critical voice: I am the one who tells you what you can and can’t do. Writing self: *sigh* Critical voice: You see I am you. Writing self: No, you have been living inside me for too long. Critical voice: You can never get rid of me. Writing self: I just did. Critical self: ……

Blood Memory Man do I miss my brother, He got sent to Chilocco Indian School in 1942 and I haven’t seen him since. I got left behind because I wasn’t 9 years old. But it is the year 1946 and I am now 9. I finally get to see my brother. It was a long bus ride to the school, but I was so happy to finally see my brother again I didn’t mind it. Finally, we arrived, it is a lot different than I expected. It is a lot bigger than I expected too. We walk into the door and the first person I see I ask where my brother is. Where is my brother I say? And they told me we will find him for you but first a haircut. A hair cut I say? I don’t need no haircut. Oh yes you do little boy that’s the rules. Well, that’s not to fair. And he says well life isn’t fair so sit in the chair and I’m going to cut your hair. Maybe I don’t want to cut my hair. Do you want to see your brother again or not? Yes of course I do. Then get in the damn chair boy. So, I sit and get the same haircut every single kid has in the school. I look awful they cut my hair almost bald. But finally, I get to go see my brother. They take me to the housing area and I see my brother. Brother, I yell. He sees me and comes running, I’ve missed you so much. I’ve missed you too brother. He asks how mom is. I tell him she hasn’t been doing very well she is extremely sick. Oh, well what happened. She has cancer I say. He was heartbroken and what all made it worse was that he hasn’t seen her in a long time because he’s been here. She told me to say she loves you and misses you dearly. I miss her so much. Anyway, c’mon I’ll show you around. We start walking and he was showing me where all the class rooms were. We walk into a class and I see the most beautiful girl standing in front me. I asked my brother who it was? She said that is Marla. Wow she is beautiful, I’m going to go talk to her. I don’t think that’s such a good idea Howard. Why not. Well, that is the dean’s daughter and plus she is a white girl. I don’t care if she is white, I can’t live with myself knowing I never even tried to talk to her. Howard you are 9 years old what are you even talking about. I walk over there and talk to her. I could tell she liked me and I liked her, so I asked if she wanted to eat lunch with me. She said yes of course. This was only the beginning of the story. We ended up dating all through school at Chilocco. We even got married at 20 years old and stuck with each other. That is until the love of my life got lung cancer and sadly passed away. I was devastated but I knew that life isn’t going to stop for me so I need to move forward. I am now 84 years old still working in interior construction living my best life.

The Things I’ve Lost Some blood from my head in 2004 when my older brother pushed me into a window seal and I busted my head open. My nana to a bad asthma attack in 2006. My uncle Adam to overdose in 2007. My first ever homerun bat in a tournament in 2007. My love for school in 2008 when the majority of my class got held back because we had an art teacher as the teacher for the year. My first ever state tournament in 2008 to a blowout. A $50 bill my Papa gave me for Christmas in 2010. My second ever state tournament also to a blowout in 2012. My first ever computer I got in 2012 when my little brother smashed it on my hand on accident. One of my best friends who took her own life in 2016. (R.I.P Dacie). My love for baseball in 2018. A lot of my friends in 2019 because they resorted to drugs and drinking. My grandpa Fred in 2019 to cancer. My house for a year to a fire in 2019. My mind every time I stepped foot into the high school. My patience for immaturity. My last ever baseball game in 2021.

All Lies All you can do is lie But that is okay Cause I don’t even care anymore Deny it all you want Even though we both know it’s true Friends never last Guessing you already know that though How could you do that Injecting yourself with those toxins Just to get a little high Knowing what it does to your body Losing yourself piece by piece Making a fool of yourself Needles are not the way to go Over everyone who has ever loved you People ask why I’ve stayed this long Questing for your next fix Reserving your body to the devil Staying to yourself Though family comforts you more Usually, I wouldn’t put up with this Various suicidal thoughts running through your brain While you strap your arm with a belt Xanthic in your teeth from all the drugs You would think an over dose would make you quit, but all it did was make it worse Zilch respect for being that selfish

Swung A Little Harder I’m sorry that your dream didn’t come into reality. I’m sorry that baseball wasn’t my only thought. That it wasn’t what I wanted to do with my life. Sorry that I let the pressure get ahold of me, and let the nerves get to me. I’m sorry I didn’t live to your expectations, or didn’t have the passion for baseball that you wanted me to have so bad. I’m sorry that you had to see your little baseball stud turn into a regular. I’m sorry that the biography about me won’t ever get published, but there is a new story and the same moral still applies, FOLLOW YOUR DREAM. I’m sorry that I didn’t field every ground ball, or catch every pop fly. I’m sorry that I didn’t finish strong. I’m sorry that I didn’t run a little faster, or throw a little further. They said you just have to aim for the stars and shoot and your dream would come true. You just grazed it you didn’t follow through. I’m sorry but if that was my dream, I would have aimed a little higher and swung a little harder.

Shadow Shad*ow n 1. The black silhouette that falls behind you in the light: your very own portrait on the wall drawn by the sunlight coming through the windows. 2. God’s way of telling you to be yourself, like it is a daily reminder that you are unique. 3. The act of being a follower: like someone’s little apprentice or slave / someone who does not have a voice / a scared being who does what he is told and only that / someone who cares what people think of them so they hide behind someone with power to make it seem like they know what they are doing / the kind of person that thinks about the glass half empty rather than the glass half full / the act of disregarding gods way and not being there selves or unique / but of being someone they wish they could be.

My Oklahoma Here, the cattle groan and the roosters sing, the weather is cold one day and scorching the next. The sweet smell of bonfire during the night and the nose crinkling smell of Conoco in the morning. Here, in my Oklahoma you go to school or work during the week days and watch football during the weekends. The half country half city type of state where if you drive ten minutes you see farm land for miles then turn around and see buildings and fast food. Here, in my Oklahoma where the church bells ring and roosters sing on Sunday.