pls could someone mark this for aqa language paper 1 Q5

I had just come to accept that my life would be ordinary when extraordinary things began to happen. The first of these came as a terrible shock and, like anything that changes you forever, split my life into halves: Before and After. I still carry the Before half around, heavy and hot as a cracked, overloaded suitcase. It is something I think about constantly, and yet I don't want to pick it up. It slows me down. Before was filled with possibility. It was not mine alone, and before long, I lost it. Now it hangs on my arm like a dull, familiar decoration or someone else's heavy, useless gift. At my best, it nags, the way that the junk in a messy drawer or the dirty clothes piled at the foot of the bed remind us to get organized, to keep promises to ourselves. You will not carry mine, and I hope never to carry yours.
Before has weight. After carries possibilities.
There are ways of letting go, sometimes by letting yourself go. Like leapers off bridges shouting, "Cannonball!" It's like saying, "Look at me. How I fill this space and time," or, "What goes up must come down" -- from jumping off a roof to tumbling in a wave; the first trying to break gravity's hold on you and the second giving in, enjoying speed as you leave your point of entry behind.
After is the part I want to keep. It is filled with mystery, possibility, magic, and the burden of a story's worth of memories. A life—my life—is now represented by this one sentence. To connect these two events is a hard loop that sometimes I can't quite make. Yet there's a thread that runs through them like a bloodstream, from the marrow of my bones through tendons and muscle and nervous system all the way to the smooth skin enveloping. New beginnings. When what is breaking feels as though it will soon hold. Just let go, Mary. Let go and be.

I feel like its way 2 boring tho the prompt is new beginnings