blind. | styles (hariana)

ll. A Special Kind of Something

~ Ariana ~

It clearly wasn’t my day today. Besides being in a completely new country surrounded by completely different people it also had me on edge for most of the day, mostly from excitement to say the least.

I was yet to be used to England’s chilly weather or how they drive on the opposite side of the roads- the almost alien language they speak here often had me confused as to what was really being said.

  Luckily I wasn’t only new student here from my school in America but unfortunately I was the only one from my group of friends who decided to come to Prescott. I lived a pretty average life in America, one that wasn’t necessarily dramatic but had its fair share of hardships. 

I grew up in Boca Raton, Florida- being surrounded by the constant sunlight and fresh ocean breeze giving me my natural sun kissed skin. I was raised by a single mother up until two years ago when my mum remarried. Her husband already had a son and he was much older than me; about seven years or so. 

His name is Frankie and not only did he become my step brother, but my best friend.

I never really knew my father. But my mother tells me that he’s a good man and he had his reasons for leaving us. I wish I knew what he looked like. I wish I knew what anything looked like.

When I was two my Aunt Judy had been the one to take care of me while my mum would go to work. My mum was merely a teenager when she had me whereas Aunt Judy was already an adult, what with being five years older than my mum. I always wondered growing up why I didn’t have a daddy like the other kids.

One night mum had to work late and Aunt Judy was babysitting me as per usual. I was sitting on her lap on the sofa, her legs resting on the thick glass coffee table as I watched my favorite television show. 

The last thing I remember seeing was a wall of fire before it all went dark and my eyes began to burn.

It turned out that our neighbors had been refueling their new barbeque in preparation for their dinner that night. Something must have gone wrong and it exploded, pieces flying everywhere destroying everything in its direction.

It blew a hole through the side of our house where the television set was, and the glass table went flying towards my Aunt Judy and I, breaking into tiny pieces.

Since then I’ve been labeled as legally blind.

My mum tells me the story every so often, especially when I’m at my lowest. ''You could have left me that day.'' she would say. ''But you didn’t, because you’re meant to stay.''

Growing up I was heavily bullied because of my lack of eyesight. I had awful scars under my eyes from extensive surgeries to try to get my vision restored, resulting in me having to wear dark sunglasses all the time. I didn’t want anyone to be afraid of me or think I was a freak. But I was still called that every day and it haunted me. No one liked me, because I was different.

I had no friends up until grade five where I met my best friend, Alaska. She had a funny name, Alaska- but I liked it. It was different, like me. Along with Alaska I had my neighbor Melanie who I’d spend hours chatting with online instead of doing my homework like I was supposed to.