I had no idea where I was. My vision was blurred. All I could hear was the beep of the heart monitor machine. I tried to rub my eyes; however, the plethora of wires connected to my arm restringed my movements. While my vision was gradually improving, I recognized the ICU room and my father laying beside me. At that moment, my father noticed I was conscious. He gently covered me, swallowed his tears, took a deep breath, and told me about what had happened. According to my classmates, I had accepted a challenge and fallen down the stairs. Deliberately, I started to recall a few flashes from the incident, and it all began to make sense.
Delighted by a professional acrobatic performance at a local park, three friends and I started to practice Le Parkour. Although I joined the group, I had limited myself to some simple movements. To my friends, I was just scared of hurting myself - which was partly true, but their blurred vision could not observe my fundamental obstacle, which
…show more content…
My extreme concern of being socially judged retained me from trying. I would avoid answering and asking questions in front of the classroom, discussing delicate subjects with my relatives, and even talking to someone who I thought was excessively intelligent. My life was based on a notably concise arrangement of rules I used to follow to circumvent the horror of being labeled as incapable or ignorant. Still, I knew it was only a matter of time until my approach was debunked.
That time came when, dared by a friend to perform an elaborate movement, I jumped, and fractured my skull. Acknowledging my failure, I was just waiting to be humiliated. However, I remember my classmates, some of whom I barely talked to, comforting me as soon as I left the ICU. And I vividly recall my mother quoting Oscar’s soothing words: “experience is simply the name we give our mistakes”. That unwavering support cleared my eyes: I was the only one who thought I had