I Wonder...

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Hi,
My name is Faraz, i am 19. i wrote this "autobiography" (in a sense i guess, its more like just a story of me)and i thought i would share. Please do tell me what you think of it, constructive criticisms please Smile

"I Wonder...

I was wearing a blue gown. I didn’t quite know what to expect. I looked back and saw my mom quietly falling down into tears; my dad by her side watching me; my sisters both in front of my parents waving goodbye; I stopped. I stopped and watched them. I didn’t know when I would see them back if I was ever to see them again. I looked at them for a couple of minutes and then started walking. I kept following the lady until I was brought into this room with several other men and women. She made climb on the bed. I was scared. I was being blinded by the light in front of my eyes. I heard the nurse tell me that the surgery will go fine. Everything turned black.

I remember seeing him standing there all alone looking at me. He was looking straight into my eyes, I was doing the same. He was standing on the other side of the river; I was sitting on the grass in my side. I thought he was trying to say something but I wasn’t sure what. I tried reading his lips hoping to make sense of what he said. The more I tried, the more I failed to do so. It seemed like he wanted to say something but couldn’t.

A month later, midway through July of 2000, after having have to stay in the hospital for a whole month, I was finally cleared and allowed to come back home. I hadn’t seen my room in quite a while now and was more then overwhelmed. I was still unaware of why I had to have a surgery and no one seemed to want to tell me. I was 10 years old at this time. Though I was seen as still being young, I wanted to know what was wrong with me.

This was one of several surgeries I had to go through, all of which regarded the same problem which is had. After the second surgery which was done as a biopsy, I was told that I have a lymphatic system deficiency. Because my problem had to cures…yet, I was put on medications. They were mostly vitamins and my body was found to be in vitamin deficiency. I had to take pills every morning whilst being in Verdun high school.

School days were hectic. Already was I the “Odd-man out” but now people had found something to tell me to make me feel worse. I didn’t know what to think about whatever it was that I had, so I avoided any conversation about it. Those days when I was supposed to be quite active, I found myself sitting on a couch most of the time. I felt considerably weaker now that I knew what I had, whatever it was. I used to hear all my friends playing in the alley behind my house. I used to hear them scream and shout and have a good time from dawn till dusk in those days when school was in break for the summer. I could hear the dog bark and my friends scream. Every night when I went to sleep, I prayed to get better soon…and closed my eyes.

That person was still standing on the other side of the river; I was sitting on the grass on my side. He still hadn’t talked at all although I am sure he wanted to say something. I felt like wanting to have an answer even if I hadn’t asked any question. Maybe he wanted to answer me and was waiting for me to ask him, but I did not know what. I should have asked him something and let him answer me; I could have asked him something and let him answer me; I would have asked him something and let him answer me; but I didn’t. I couldn’t because I was deaf.

As my third year of high school started, I had gotten used to the names I was referred to as. They didn’t bother me as much as they used to when my wound was still fresh. By now I was told what my illness was. I had Inter abdominal Lymphangiectasia. An illness caused by the malfunction of my Lymph nodes. My body didn’t absorb the fat I ate as well as it should have. There is no cure to it except proper nutrition. This illness is not very common in human and more present in dogs. I guess I was one of those lucky ones who had it! As far as I knew, I didn’t know of anyone else with an illness similar to mine. Sure I was lucky, but I didn’t want to be. I wanted to be just like the others. I would look into the mirror and the only thing that came to my mind was “Why me?”. Why not the man who lived next door? Why not the person who was born seconds before me in the neighboring hospital room? Why not my friends dog? Why me? These questions and thoughts would haunt me since I didn’t know how to or what to answer them. I would look into the mirror and ask myself when I would talk about it to someone. I would look into the mirror and think I was deaf; I would not be able to talk about it. I would look into the mirror and wonder who I really was, who did I really want to be. I would look into the mirror and close my eyes.

I had been looking at this man standing on the other side of the river and I had still not figured who he was. I thought I would go closer to him so to reveal his identity. The closer I went, the more blurry his face became until I couldn’t go any closer because the water was blocking me and at which point, his face was completely unrecognizable. I couldn’t differentiate his eyes from his mouth, his ears from his nose, and his arms from his legs. I was scared. I didn’t know what he looked like but something inside me made me feel like I had to be him. His blurry face seemed as if I could shape it in the way I liked. As if I could make him as anyone I would want to be other then myself and then be him; be some one else.

As my high school years neared end, I found myself involved into a lot of school activities. I was in my high school’s music orchestra where I played the Clarinet. I participated in a few competitions one of which was an open Mathematics competition. I was also in a chemistry competition and a physics competition. By this time, I realized I wasn’t that much different from the people I was around. That year, I won the “Prix Extra” given to about two dozen students around the province of Quebec every year. By the time I had won this prize, I started to think again that I was different then the others, only, this time, I felt as if I was better.

Most of the people I hanged out with in high school knew about my illness. As I finished my five years of high school, I was already looking forward to go to college. Mainly because I knew once in college, I could start a new life. A life where most of the people I met didn’t know about my illness. This way, I thought, I could show myself to others in the way I felt comfortable with. I could show myself as a “normal” person, someone I wasn’t.

As much as I hoped to change, I couldn’t. As much as I wanted to be like everyone around me, I couldn’t. I couldn’t lie to myself. I couldn’t lie to myself, so, I accepted myself as I was: abnormal. I still tried hard to hide myself from others, but it seemed like the more I tried to hide, the more obvious it was. The more I tried to hide myself, the less it would work. So I stopped trying.

As I started to step away from the man standing on the other side of the river, I noticed he was moving away from me too but faster. I moved to the right, he moved to the right faster. I moved to the left, he moved to the left faster. He was doing what I was doing, only, faster. I saw a rock on the ground. I picked it, he picked. At this point, I felt some sort of anger towards that man. As if I didn’t want to be him anymore. As if I didn’t want to change. As if I was fine as I was. My disgust towards that man grew rapidly and as that anger reached its maximum, I threw the rock as fast as I could towards the man I still didn’t know who he was. He threw a rock towards me as well, only, faster. Fearful that his rock would hit me before mine reached him, I closed my eyes.

As I open my eyes every morning, I wonder who I really am. Why am I here? What is life? Do I really want to live a life that I would always be running away from? These questions come to me even today. Every morning, I try to answer them. I tell to myself that living is better then dying. That living as a slave is better then being the king of the dead. Life, needless to say, is priceless. Sometimes, these answers don’t satisfy me. The more I try to hide myself, from who I am, by giving “fancy” answers to myself, the less comfortable I feel. So I keep on looking for more answers. As I desperately try to find an answer to these questions, I look into the mirror and the only thing that cames to my mind is “Why me?”. Why not the man who lived next door? Why not the person who was born seconds before me in the neighboring hospital room? Why not my friends dog? Why me?"

so, what do you guys think? Smile

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anything? likes? dislikes? >.<

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@mars90000000,

I'll get back to you as soon as I finish this MST3k DVD of Soultaker!

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are u back yet? i need ur opinions XD

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bump

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bump

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@mars90000000,

Possible typos:
She made climb on the bed.
Because my problem had to cures…yet.

Other then these slightly confusing lines, it's a mostly solid work of intimate writing.

Perhaps you could contact Sozobe here at a2k. I believe she is also hearing impaired.

Quote:

I couldn’t lie to myself, so, I accepted myself as I was: abnormal.

Normal is all relative.

Was it you intention to end it on such a sour note?

Quote:

As I desperately try to find an answer to these questions, I look into the mirror and the only thing that cames to my mind is “Why me?”. Why not the man who lived next door? Why not the person who was born seconds before me in the neighboring hospital room? Why not my friends dog? Why me?"

It comes off a bit too whiny at the end.

Still, you deserve praise for your forthcoming and honesty in this revealing short memoir.

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@mars90000000,

I think it's very interesting. I liked the image of the man on the other side of the river - I'm not sure that I understood what exactly he represented - maybe your normal self - the person you might have been although you wouldn't have recognized that person, because you'd never known that person - you've only known yourself as you are and were meant to be.

I didn't find it whiny at all. I think it's totally normal for someone to want to experience normalcy as opposed to difference at any time, but especially during their highschool years and especially if that difference is caused by an illness or something else beyond their control.
I often wonder if I'd be able to cope with an illness at all - much less as a lifelong reality from childhood. I have great respect for people who function through something like that.

There are a few grammatical issues and typos - but basically- as I said, I found this very interesting and enjoyed reading it.

I missed it the first few times around or I'd have read it and commented then. I'm glad I saw it this time.

Thanks for posting it.

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Thank you for taking the time to read it

This text was in one part for the final project in my "Writing For The General Public" class, so i chose to write it on myself. We could write about anything we wanted, but had some specifications, like, had to write something not too hard to read, not too technical.

have some sort of image the reader could hold onto.

which brings me to the man on the other side of the river.

you see, that is actually a recurring dream ive had, which i thought i would include in the story. i guess it could also represent the person i want to be.

in the story, the main character (me) also had to evolve with the story, which is why i first want to be like that man on the other side, but at the end, i start to back off and stay like i am. and as for the very last paragraph on why it end in a "whine" , well, if u notice, midway through the story, i have the same few sentences in it, so i thought it was a good way to end and to "loop" back i guess, thing back on whats happenned, re-analyze my "life" in a way, i guess

but yea, if theres any other question, feel free to ask Razz

and as for the typos, sorry Razz

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@mars90000000,

stunning stuff mars

loved it

definitely worth publishing after editing

good luck with the lymphangiectasia

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I hope you will get a chance to explore that reoccuring dream.
There is much symbolism in it.
I think the man was trying to tell you something important. Is there a man in your life that you are not listening to? or who wants to talk to you?
Anyway, I enjoyed reading your story.

I Wonder...

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