Sensations

A groan escaped my lips as I felt a delicate hand shake my body awake as it lay on top of my blanket-clad arm. I buried my head deeper in my pillow, only to have the shaking grow more rough and constant. “Time to wake up, Joshua,” a soft voice murmured, a voice that clearly said she wasn’t going to allow me to have anymore sleep for the day.

“I’m up, I’m up!” I muttered, slowly pushing myself into a sitting position as I threw my arms above my head, stretching. “Morning, Kat,” I muttered as I pried my eyelids open since they were practically glued together from sleep.

“Morning, little brother!” She said cheerily, patting me on the head as she walked around my room. “It’s around seventy degrees today, so I was thinking jeans and a t-shirt.” She said as the distinct sound of my closet door could be heard throughout the room.

“You’re more the fashion expert then I am,” I muttered as my hands ran along the blanket, looking for the edge, flipping it against the wall and off of my body once I found said edge. My legs threw themselves over the side of my bed and I stood up, walking towards my closet, counting my steps as I go. From the bed, standing straight, my closet is about nine steps northwest, and I counted those steps in my head as I walked towards the closet.

Kat was kind enough to give me the bigger room to make it easier for my… condition. I can easily make my way around my room, even with the absence of my sight, by counting my steps. I’m perfectly fine as long as there’s no random objects placed in random areas, than I’d have to use that damn cane. And God, do I hate that damn cane. It limits me, shows that there’s something wrong with me, but I’m not ashamed of it.

I reached my closet and let my foot slide out in front of me, stopping against the foot of my elder sister, telling me where she is so I can reach out and rest my hand on her shoulder as she picked out my outfit for the day.

“Black skinny jeans and a solid white t-shirt,” she muttered, handing me the outfit before bending down, my hand still on her shoulder. “Black and white converse,” she instructed before leaving the room. She always tells me what I’m wearing, though I find it completely pointless, but if it makes her happy, so be it. I was born like this and it doesn’t matter how much we both hope, it’s always going to be this way.

I turned around and counted my steps as I made my way to my dresser, opening the top drawer that was perfectly level with my belly button, reaching in and pulling out the first piece of fabric my wandering hand came in contact with. I closed the drawer softly, counting my way to the laundry basket that I knew would be waiting for me at the foot of my bed.

My pajama sweat pants were soon lost to the floor, replaced with my new pair of boxers and a new pair of skinny jeans that required me to lean on my bed to be able to pull them up without falling over. I sighed as I threw on the t-shirt, my socks and shoes quickly following. My feet started walking on their own accord, finding my desk easily. I quickly took the strap of my messenger bag off of it and threw it over my shoulder, taking my folded cane and gripping it tightly as I trailed my hand along the wall, finding my way out of my room and slowly walking down our only flight of stairs.

Kat walked up behind me, softly putting her hand on my shoulder to show me she was there as she handed me a granola bar and led me to her parked car out in the driveway, helping me in before getting in herself and driving us to school.

This is what every morning is like for me. Kat wakes me up, Kat picks out my clothes, I get dressed, and then Kat drives me to school. It’s like I’m a robot, but I can’t do it myself. I can’t be trusted with an alarm clock because I wouldn’t be able to find it. I can’t pick out my own clothes because they most likely wouldn’t match. I can’t make my way to school on my own because I don’t have the walk memorized and would most likely get myself hit by a car. I’m solely reliant on my sister for the simplest of things, and I know that she doesn’t care because she loves me, but I hate the fact that I always feel like I am a burden to her. I’m eighteen years old for Christ’s sake, and I can’t take care of myself, it’s like I’m her little baby brother instead of a full grown teenager.

I sighed as I felt the car roll to a stop, probably meaning we were at school. I heard a bit of ruffling, meaning Kat was reaching to the backseat to grab my messenger bag and give it to me. “I’ll find you in the afternoon as usual,” Kat said, pressing a tiny kiss to my cheek as I let my hand wander around the door, pushing it open once I found the trigger to do so. I stepped out of the car, messenger bag over my shoulder, cane unfolded and leading the way.

I could scarcely hear Kat pull her car away from the curb of the school and drive away as I walked forward, moving my cane back in forth in front of me to make sure I didn’t bump into anyone or anything. My cane slowly bumped against a step and I held it off to the side as I walked up the six stone steps that were right in front of the main entrance to Montgomery High School, my own personal living hell.

I was lucky enough to get all of my classes on the first floor of the school, probably because the school administration are sympathetic to my situation, but it really does make my school life a bit more easier. I despise staircases, especially when they’re busy with a bunch of people.

My left hand trailed across the rows of lockers on the left wall as my right hand clutched the cane. Most students were kind enough to walk out of their way when they see me, but not all are, and they’d walk in front of my cane just to annoy me and piss me off. Luckily, I can normally tell when it’s a mistake or when people are doing it on purpose. I counted the doors as I passed them. My first period class, Biology, was the ninth door on the left side of the hallway and I’ve counted passing five so far.

I sighed as I passed six then seven, smiling as I realized that I can just sit down and hide in the back of the class in just a few seconds, only to be slammed into the lockers out of nowhere. I grunted as I felt my body slip downwards, my hands curling into fists against the locker, clutching my cane to make sure it didn’t roll away. The cold metal of the lockers sent chills down my spine and any pieces of skin that came in contact with it, making me instinctively shy away from it.

“It must fucking suck to be blind!” I heard a voice bellow, probably Greg, the person who really loves to torment me though I have no idea why. I never know who it fucking is, I could only guess, and that is something that can so easily infuriate me. “I bet it’s your fucking punishment for being a faggot, faggot!” I heard the voice scream as he advanced down the hallway in the opposite direction, amused laughter surrounding me and closing me in.

I crawled on the floor, hands in front of me as I pushed myself back into a standing position, doing my best to not allow any of the hurtful words get to me, though they really did strike deep. A frown would probably be on my lips for the rest of the day, especially if I started the day off that badly.

I grumbled obscenities to myself, cursing everyone and everything to hell as I took my special laptop out of my laptop, running my fingers over the brail covered keys, knowing that if I ever needed my notes, the automated computer voice could read them back to me.

Why is it that everyone seems to have everything easy and each day everything just gets harder and harder for me?