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Golden Gate Bridge-Personal Narrative

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Around five, I leave to meet Mark in San Francisco. I drive across the Golden Gate Bridge despite a fear of heights. Of which I discovered years ago, when I walked with Mark and Vivian across this same bridge for a breast cancer charity event. The day was festive. Up until, a third of the way across the bridge, I stopped to gaze at the blue sky, and then down at the water. Right after, a sudden impulse to jump overcame me. I grabbed the rail paralyzed with fear. Mark and the rest of the walkers continued unware of my predicament. I remained in a catatonic state, until I felt a nudge at my right leg. I turn my gaze to the right and see a partially-blind woman with a service dog next to me. “Can you help me?” With that, she took my left hand in hers. “Just breathe and step away from the rail.” I did as she advised. Without further talk, we walked to the other side. Later, I explained to her that I wasn’t suicidal. I’m not certain she…show more content…
Regardless, I grab a whole one and caution. “I haven’t gotten high since we separated.” He bites into one and remarks with a full mouth. “I can’t say the same. Just eat half, but you’ll want more.” Against my better judgment, I eat a whole one and drink a full glass of the liqueur. Soon after, I’m lightheaded and clinically stoned, unable to feel my tongue or limbs. I’m uneasy and stare into space for god knows how long in an effort to ward off paranoia. It works, and we spend the rest of the night listening to music. At midnight, I’m in no shape to drive anywhere, let alone across the Golden Gate Bridge. Mark advises me to sleep it off, and I comply. I kick off my shoes, and one flies across the room. Mark finds it, and somehow, he manages to guide me to the guest bedroom. Where, I lie back on a pillow with my eyes open wide. I resist sleep for fear I might die. Mark laughs, and maintains, “The marijuana is organic.” His reasoning sounds inane. But, I fall for it and close my
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