In "The Story of an Hour", I can relate to so many different things that happen in this short tragic story. After reading the story I almost felt as if Louise Mallard and I were living the same life with different events and different outcomes. Everything about us comes down to always being misunderstood and just wanting to be free. At the beginning of the story, we look at Louise Mallard from a bird's point of view. Louise is introduced as a devoted young wife who has been told the news of her husband's unfortunate death. When Chopin delves into Louise's thoughts and feelings, they surprisingly contradict his initial description of her. I grew up in New Jersey my whole life. I lived in a huge house and everyone in my family drove nice, expensive cars. Everyone in my town pretty much knew who I was thanks to my family. In the city where I lived this type of popularity was a normal, everyday thing. Everyone on my street lived as well or better than me. Being different from all the other "rich kids" in the neighborhood, I hated the appearance that we were better than others, more privileged. I definitely wasn't what people expected of me. I didn't go to high school at Seton Hall Prep with the other "rich kids." I didn't like them. Instead I went to a more relaxed private high school called Chancellor Academy, where the kids were definitely not like all the other "rich kids." These people were my true friends and they couldn't care less how much money I had. Besides not going to the school everyone thought I should go to, I was a skateboarder. What an image they have. So now I'm not only considered a spoiled rich kid, but a spoiled little punk skateboarder. I wasn't that. I just wanted... middle of paper... to get rid of everything that had been holding us back. The end of the story is a real tragedy for me because I feel like Louise and I have such a connection. When Louise went down the stairs with her sister and saw her husband walk through the door, her heart gave out and she died. This event for me is like finally arriving in Gainesville and realizing that my parents were still just a phone call away from smothering me. Even though I can do whatever I want, it's nothing like I thought it would be. I love my parents with all my heart and Louise loved her husband at times. The doctors said that Louise died of heart disease, "Of joy that kills (16, paragraph 23.)" For me that was the tragedy, that Louise was once again misunderstood. Although the events in my life are not as painful as Louise Mallards, we are similar in the sense that all we want is to be free and understood..