Personal Narrative: Hiding Solitude Essay

Spending life wrapped in a coddle of emotions and experiences I cannot sort through l’ve set out on a journey to explain myself to you. Walking through life while collecting moments I fail to piece together l’ve created a litany of lessons and frustrations I’m attempting to share. None of this should be extraordinary news; I never climbed a mountain (or completed other like physical feats) to find enlightenment, l’ve failed to create a technology which will save lives, I’m nothing special just a neighborhood twenty year old writing stories for you; nuggets of disdain, snark, discovery, and solitude.

Twenty years on a planet is exhausting, I’m still not confident that adults can survive beyond this point: however, with these twenty years of faulty experiences I’ve learned a few things and am hopeful to continue learning and experiencing. Not every moment of mine has been a success, much more are failures honestly, that’s the beauty to everything. Even though I continually fall flat on my face I find small shreds of strength to continue forward and fail again. I’m on this ferris wheel of life, I spend countless synapses wondering if my ability to continue will ever cease or will | eventually find aid from the failing and find success.

I wonder about a lot of things and often become confused or hurt, spending time in a veil of heather grey wondering if I will break through to lavender soon; if not however, I hope these failings help me find personal enlightment; or, other such fanciful events. Moment One: Glassware Tran outside with glass in my hand last evening; this happening wasn’t planned, and this journey was spontaneous at best. Spending an evening nursing a wound and attempting to navigate the night struck streets of Nashville was not expected when I woke up this morning.

Losing three hours to an exploration of my city was not listed in my preppy and overbooked agenda. Amongst the classes, obscene amounts of work and internship responsibilities; dangerous impulses were not invited to overtake and alter my night. I was not intending to end my night bloodied and confused; I hadn’t planned to enjoy an iota of the day; this excitement over sunset wasn’t carefully penciled in; and, to my unfortunate surprise I spent too long of my night captured in a moment. Last night the sunset’s melted ombre sky transformed into a gradient of red on my side.

Last night I wandered around my city with a blank stare in my eye. Last night I ran around with a glass of water in my hand. Primary school teaches you many vital skills and lessons you would otherwise learn through trial and error. One most important is to not run with scissors, you are taught to believe that running in this manner will most likely lead to a stumble, fall, and breaking of skin from scissors and their razor sharp arms. Similar warnings should exist for sparkling green glassware.

We should be telling people, “Don’t run with sparkling green glassware, you’ll trip, fall, cut your body open on shards and bleed. Look, now you’ve hurt yourself. ” Because there are no such warning for sparkling green glassware I fell victim to this lapse in judgement; and, in a painfully slow moment my mind entered a trance caused by this fleeting sun set moment. Standing, clinging to a third floor window my imagination would not let go to wondering how the sun would appear if outside instead of from behind a bullet proof plexiglass shield.

This unannounced hypnosis meant, my left middle quadrant would break a fall between four unforgiving concrete parking garage stairs and my glassware. Leaving my room was a flurry; slipping on sandals ( a less than wise selection in footwear) grappling for a scarf to protect my neck from wind, and attempting to navigate a tote bag in search of my ever disappearing keys. I was awkwardly trampling out from my bedroom determined to watch this sunset unfold. After slamming the apartment door shut behind my rear | debated for half a second between taking the elevator or bolting for the stairs.

Sadly, for myself, the stairs won out and I was again racing to greet sunset with my eyes. Three flights I managed to navigate before my unfortunate stumble. The loose fitting of slip on sandals coupled with minimal to no tracking on the bottom of these shoes gave way to a crumbling on stairs. Less a fall, than a loud and smashing, THUD, following a crackling echo through the stairs! I managed to slip my arm with the glassware under my body as an attempt to break this fall. Instead of providing aid I provided pain. No one was in the stairwell available to see my mistake unfold.

No one there to ask, “How can you be so dumb to run down three flights with sparkling green glassware in hand? “. There was a quick moment of silence as I began to asses my damages; however, in my daze ljolted up and glanced at the shattered and excessively glistening green glassware on the stairs, tiny shards and clunky hunks sat submerged in water puddles, with small floats of ice dancing around these green glass islands too. I failed to notice the sherbet pink hued water; which undoubtedly was caused by my new flesh wound.

Fumbling up from the stairs I began thinking, breaking down each decision to decide how this all happened. I began to think was running necessary? Conclusion, no the sunset would’ve been there had I walked and taken an extra minute to descend from three flights up, to our sprawling courtyard. Running only paved way for mistakes to be made; and, allowed for a podiatry fumble. Avoiding the stairs may’ve served well too. I assumed my poorly sighted self would be able to maneuver moving stairs, jingling ice cubes, skips, and a body too fragile for this sort of excitement; I was wrong.

Flip-flops were a miserable choice for my feet. With how loosely they clung to my feet and their inability to form traction with the ground I stood no chance to survive this journey. I continued to stand trembling and awkwardly twitching, which is the state my body generally inhabits, and there was an inability to contain and handle the excitement, This first clear spring evening, clutching the commands to my actions, demanded I watch the sunset in person, there would be no substitute and continuing to watch sunsets from behind windows was no longer an option.

Fully recovered from this tumble I convinced myself, nothing major had occurred. Even with my assessment of actions I failed to notice the cut, which lay upon my side; and, as quickly I’d fallen | was chasing sunset again. My twenty seven second stumble, forgivingly, didn’t put a dent into sunset time. When you’re the sort of person I find myself to be you never know when you will find strength and ability to enjoy a moment.

The prospect of waking in the morning to start a cup of coffee and begin a morning pleasantly is impossible most days; sometimes you can not even work a shower well enough to stand up and wash your hair, this cycle repeats itself and beckons to be your friend. Only problem arises when you realize these actions are not your companion and you attempt to break free; you can rip yourself into a new routine only to return a couple haggard days later. This uncertainty, and inability to function, means you snap at any opportunity to soak in some joy. This Sunset was my moment of joy.

After weeks of putzing around Dickens 309 B my brain became zapped of any sense of accomplishment and all desire to explore was lost to all floating and intangible synapses of my brain, I became useless from the throngs of college life, a zombie who ran on thirteen hours of sleep. Desperately searching and yearning for a moment of relief and enjoyment, I finally did. My biggest regret from stumbling was wasting a perfectly good fall and subsequent injury on a mediocre sunset. Sadly, mediocre or not, my body was demanding I watch this particular sky full of melting popsicles.