- Joined
- Apr 16, 2019
This is a YouTube channel called Share My Story.
www.youtube.com
They are a corporate story time channel that tell supposedly real stories that are supposedly submitted to them by email.
So I’m gonna conduct a little experiment. I’m working on my own totally real story about how I got my hand chopped off when I was in elementary school. Here’s what I have so far.
Constructive criticism only plox dont like dont read
Share My Story
SHARE MY STORY is a platform that allows teenagers to have their stories animated and shared around the world. Send your story to sharemystory2019@gmail.com
www.youtube.com
So I’m gonna conduct a little experiment. I’m working on my own totally real story about how I got my hand chopped off when I was in elementary school. Here’s what I have so far.
Hey! I’m Jeremy, and this is my story.
When I was a kid, art class was my jam. It was so much fun, I never wanted to leave. One time I made an awesome clay sculpture of cheese and crackers. It’s lame, I know, but I was so proud of it. But that’s not important.
One time, we had this special assignment where we had to make self portraits by gluing pieces of cut out construction paper on a canvas. But the thing is, the teacher couldn’t trust any of the students with scissors, because someone managed to poke their eye out. Yeah, you know how you were told to not run with scissors? It’s not a joke.
So what my teacher did instead was to bring out this giant heavy duty paper cutter with the big handle on it, and cut out the pieces of paper for us. Now some of you skeptics out there maybe thinking “Well why didn’t the teacher just use scissors?!” Well that’s because her hands were shaky, like, shaking all the time. It was... really sad. But that didn’t stop my teacher. She painted really well, and she cut those shapes wicked fast. Like, our eyes could barely keep up with her cutting!
So everyone’s going in line, asking the teacher for a shape to cut out, and I join. I even remember exactly the shape I wanted. A rhombus. So after a while it’s finally my turn in line. And I ask for that precious rhombus. So my teacher gets out the paper, and starts cutting. But just before she does, I see a fly. Right near the giant paper cutter. So I stick my hand out below the blade in an attempt to catch the fly. And the teacher, well, chops my hand off. Like the whole hand, just, boop, gone.
So I’m freaking out, and eventually the hospital is called and I’m freaking out. I go to the hospital, and when I get there, I ask where my hand is. And they say the art teacher threw it out. Like, threw it in the trash. I could not believe what I was hearing.
Living with only one hand is really hard. Especially when it’s your non dominant one. I could barely write, or eat, or even... that.
But eventually I adapted. I learned to over come that. And that’s my story of living with one hand.
When I was a kid, art class was my jam. It was so much fun, I never wanted to leave. One time I made an awesome clay sculpture of cheese and crackers. It’s lame, I know, but I was so proud of it. But that’s not important.
One time, we had this special assignment where we had to make self portraits by gluing pieces of cut out construction paper on a canvas. But the thing is, the teacher couldn’t trust any of the students with scissors, because someone managed to poke their eye out. Yeah, you know how you were told to not run with scissors? It’s not a joke.
So what my teacher did instead was to bring out this giant heavy duty paper cutter with the big handle on it, and cut out the pieces of paper for us. Now some of you skeptics out there maybe thinking “Well why didn’t the teacher just use scissors?!” Well that’s because her hands were shaky, like, shaking all the time. It was... really sad. But that didn’t stop my teacher. She painted really well, and she cut those shapes wicked fast. Like, our eyes could barely keep up with her cutting!
So everyone’s going in line, asking the teacher for a shape to cut out, and I join. I even remember exactly the shape I wanted. A rhombus. So after a while it’s finally my turn in line. And I ask for that precious rhombus. So my teacher gets out the paper, and starts cutting. But just before she does, I see a fly. Right near the giant paper cutter. So I stick my hand out below the blade in an attempt to catch the fly. And the teacher, well, chops my hand off. Like the whole hand, just, boop, gone.
So I’m freaking out, and eventually the hospital is called and I’m freaking out. I go to the hospital, and when I get there, I ask where my hand is. And they say the art teacher threw it out. Like, threw it in the trash. I could not believe what I was hearing.
Living with only one hand is really hard. Especially when it’s your non dominant one. I could barely write, or eat, or even... that.
But eventually I adapted. I learned to over come that. And that’s my story of living with one hand.
