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“Just be happy, and if you can't be happy, do things that make you happy. Or do nothing with the people that make you happy."
-Esther Earl
basketball, writing (duh), lgbt rights, dogs

Message to Readers

I found this in an old notebook. I think I wrote it two years ago so it may not be that good. I just fixed it up a little bit and edited it (had to guess on some parts because I could barely read my own handwriting). It's unfinished. I would like feedback, especially about the accuracy of the lifestyles of blind people because I don't know anyone who's totally blind.

I don't know what to name this

June 12, 2019


    Someone once told me that he would always catch me if I fell. He didn't mean it literally; he meant that he would always be there for me. Lot of good it did him. Five years ago today, I ran out of my house crying after mom told me that he fell from a height too big to handle. I'm outside holding a candle for him today, looking at the pathetic wooden grave in my backyard and remembering the real one where his funeral was held.
                                                Sam Neilson
                                         April 2010-June 2020
                                             "I am not afraid
                                             I am not defined
                                                I am strong."

         I add one last flaming match to the pile before before mom comes out yelling, "Summer Anne Daze! Just because you're mourning does not give you a right to set the house on fire!" After lecturing me for what felt like ten minutes on safety, she goes back inside, satisfied. As I'm extinguishing the flames, she comes marching out again.
    "Say hi to the new neighbours. I think they have a kid your age." I shrug. Saying hi to the neighbours is not on my to-do list. However, twenty minutes and several arguments later, I find myself ringing the doorbell with a chocolate cake in hand. We see a boy my age in the window and mom nudges me. I haven't been very social since Sam died and looking for a romantic relationship is the least of my worries. The boy opens the door. He had messy black hair, dazzling green eyes with small pupils, and freckles. He was wearing some shirt with a video game logo on it, and sunglasses propped up on his head that he dropped as soon as he saw us. 
    "Hi, I'm Chamille," mom  says and holds our her hand. The boy doesn't take it. In fact, he doesn't seem to notice it at all.
    "Adam. I'll get my mom." Adam leaves and comes back later with a heavyset lady in a purple cardigan. She too, shares the same green eyes and freckles as him.
    "Hello! You must be the neighbours! We were just admiring your pretty yellow house! I'm Sara." She shakes my mom's hand. "And you are?"
    "Summer." I reply. Adam jumps, like he didn't know I was there.
    "Beautiful! This is Adam. He is. . ." she pauses for a moment, searching for the right word, "vision impaired."
    "Mom! You don't have to tell everyone!"
    "Well, they're our neighbours! They should know!"
    Vision impaired? I can't tell; his eyes are beautiful. But when Adam's mom, Sara, invites us inside, it seems obvious. There is a white cane with an orange stripe leaning on the wall of a bare hallway which is leading to a spacious kitchen. Adam and his mother keep bickering down the hall, and his hand never leaves the wall. He must be totally blind.
    Sara accepts the cake and opens a drawer to grab a knife. She invites us to sit down at a two-person table while Adam jumps on the kitchen counter, dangling his feet and looking ahead at a wall he can not see. I notice some pictures of Adam and Sara with a tall, bearded man who shares Adam's scruffy hair in a military uniform. 


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