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 like Louise Mallard and I were living the same life with different events and outcome. Everything about us boils 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 eye view. Louise is introduced as a devoted young wife who has been told the news of her husband's unfortunate death. When Chopin delves deeper 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 knew who I was because of my family. In the town where I lived, this kind 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 this appearance that we were better than others, more privileged. I definitely wasn't what people expected of me. I didn't go to 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 real friends and didn't care 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, not only am I seen as a spoiled little rich kid, but also a spoiled little punk skateboarder. It wasn't who I was. I just... middle of paper... want to free myself from everything that was holding us back. The end of the story is such a tragedy for me because I feel like Louise and I have such a connection. When Louise came down the stairs with her sister and saw her husband walk through the door, her heart gave out and she died. For me, this event was like finally arriving in Gainesville and realizing that my parents were still just a phone call away from choking me. Even though I can do whatever I want, it's nothing like what I thought. I love my parents with all my heart and Louise loved her husband sometimes. The doctors said that Louise had died of her heart disease, "Of a joy that kills (16, paragraph 23.)" For me, it was the tragedy, that once again Louise had been misunderstood. Although the events of my life are not as painful as those of Louise Mallards, we are similar in the sense that all we want is to be free and understood..