Personal Narrative-Level Playing Fields

Level Playing Fields Ever since I can remember, I have been different. I am simple. However, I am a very convoluted individual with an outlook on life that is extraordinary to me which puts me in situations where I have issues explaining my thoughts and experiences to others. At three in the morning, I turned over to face my boyfriend in his slumber. As he awoke he asked me to tell him about my day since it was difficult for me to remain asleep because of the thoughts pertaining to it. I sat on the satin sheets for fifteen minutes, watching the clock tick as I sorted through my jumbled thoughts to figure out what I needed to say. I simply told him, “I don’t know how to make you understand what I felt today after I heard that in class”. He

“I never understand you.” As I started thinking of a way to make him understand my thoughts and feelings, the only thing I could think about was a time in life when I was trapped by a monstrous creature. I could not figure out how it pertained to what happened that day, but the images were so clear and seemed relevant to the topic even though it occurred so long ago. I could smell the wood from the cage I was put in, day in and day out, when the creature did not want to torture me any longer. She would grab my arm and pull me up, hurting my shoulder. Every night there were songs that played through my ear- such a cacophony. I would lay awake at night, thinking of the beast and what it could possibly look like. I knew I saw her before, but I was always too afraid to take a look for a long time. I wanted to study her and understand why she was doing this to me. All of the other people she held captive got to talk to each other and

I stared at my boyfriend’s hand in mine as he slowly closed his eyes, falling asleep once again as I was going through my memories. I remembered going into my grandfather’s house. As I walked in, I said hello to Mrs. Suzie. As I made it to the second floor, I greeted Mr. Vann who always had candy for me. I trudged my way to the third floor of the home and there was my grandfather. “Grandpa!” I screamed as I hugged him. “I missed you so much. I know you missed me too, you don’t have to say anything.” I always told him that he did not have to say it back because he has always been a man of very few words. I grabbed his hand and sat beside him, pulling out a small board game. “I’ll roll for you. You don’t have to get up.” I grinned as he stayed with me. My grandfather never usually talked to me or interacted with me because he was always too busy at work. Just then my grandmother came