Personal Narrative: I am Blind Essay -- essays research papers

I am blind. But I was not eternally blind. I once experienced the majesty of a sunrise in late August and the awe of the deep blue sea as the sun glistens from it. Now I have only my memories to comfort me. So they sent me here, a field trip, a good experience they say, to helper me cope. They sent me to a deaf school for the day, unk promptlying of how awkward it is for me. They gave me a buddy, but for what? We hindquarters?t communicate through speech or sign language. ? You?ll figure it out,? they say. So now I sit here, completely and desolate in darkness, hoping for the occasional memory to write upon the blank conceal of my vision and bring life to this seemingly dead place.And so I sit. The chair is hard and cold as stone, like a cementum chair in a jail cell. It is firm, but not strong, it squeaks and wobbles just around like a fish out of water. I reach pot to make sure all four legs are there. Yes, there?s four, four cold smooth spears symbolizing my demise. Spears ready to leap before and devour me if I make the slightest wrong or sudden move. I stretch out my arms, trying to find my surroundings. To the left, nothing but air. To the right, other spear, but not like the others this spears lies on its side like the running in my bathroom. My hold follows the cold rod. It hits something leaving a sting and scissure my thumb as it crushes against my make pass. This must be the desk. I glide my hand along the smooth surface felling all the little bumps of eraser left behind. I feel along the sides and touch the rigid edges where pens have been dug in deep like sharp wounds giving the desk a unique personality. As my fingertips reach the center, I realize just how close the desk is, only about five inches away from my rapidly beatin... ... down the hall and I hazard a revelation of thought. We are going outside. I run red-hot now and burst through the front doors into the great heaven. I can smell fresh cut grass on the horizon and the slowly warm rays of the sun finally beam down on my face. I breath the fresh cool air and listen. My bird has come keep going again and sings over the crackling flames and sirens of the trucks. It sings because it is free, it sings a victory praise for me because now I am free. I sit down on the unfaltering grass and what I understand to be my buddy takes my hand. On my hand she spells out two letters. Two letters that say everything. She spells out ?O? ?K? and I cry because I know that no subject field what happens or how much I have to suffer, in the end it?s okay because I am alive and I am free. So I am still blind, but now I am blind and loving it