Friday, February 15, 2019

Personal Narrative - Hit by a Car Essay -- Injury Disability

The Living dwarfI want a lot, and theres a lot I dont. yet Id rather I not want at all. To want - such(prenominal) a human issue to do You know, a trait of those constitutive(a) markers who demarcate and defacethen there are those gray areas. same(p) an epidemic, the smears spread from champion to another..I apologize. Im making the murky waters murkier. To assortA yellowing cal oddmentar page materializes before my own eyes. As I ponder above the black-and-white chessboard splashed with gray, I see as an inexplicable draft flattens the page momentarily over a dusty dividing line. The page reads, August 18, 2008. Immediately, the sheet transmutes into a pane of glass. Nonchalant, I stare as the pane rises up over me, and shatters against my head. The glass pieces dilapidate upon impact, and I stand among showering particles, examining my new environment. The board has become a garden, one partially teeming with life and mixed with utter death and destruction. I reach out and lightly grasp a blurry leaf. Did I touch it? Did I imagine it?As if in answer, I find itand then, its gone. I went into a coma on that day. At least, thats what they vocalise. They say I was crossing a street near my school on the way to my home. I was jay-walking. More correctly, I was breaking the law. Yes, the irony soaks that calendar page. Yes, a car hit me, sending me flying. No, the actual impact wasnt that damaging. Two fractured clavicles, I think. But obeying the laws of gravity, I fell. Apparently, my head landed on a concrete edge. More correctly, the back of my head collided with stone. Yes, that was damaging. A undynamic cerebellum, I think.Since my brain stem incurred damage, it meant that I would possess a tangible disability for... ...I raise my pen and jerk it downward. Paint is a temporal dress at best, right? At the moment before the knife-like spinning top strikes a knife-like slab, my movement is halted. Flabbergasted, I try again. What else if not the s ame end that meets me? I relax the utensil. Its an unspoken rule I fecest know some constitutions. A draft inexplicably evinces, and as a reminder, a page materializes What matters, it states. Life matters, I retort. What I believe is life, is what I seewhat humans seeand what they see defines what they choose to do its the human way. I choose to believe what is important. And what a human thing to do So be it, I am an organic marker. I spread the epidemic. Just an organic marker, scribbling and smearing. The murky waters stay the same, as I run my course. Like an unspoken rule, physical constraints run with me. Its the human way.

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