Personal Narrative: If I Am Racist

Decent Essays
I stared at the piece of paper on the table in front of me. I had sat at the same desk, in the same chair for over an hour now, staring at the same piece of paper. My mind had gone blank with a serious case of writer's block. I looked at the clock on the plain, beige colored wall and sighed. An hour had passed and I continued to look at that dusty, old clock on the wall. Seconds turned into minutes, which eventually turned into an hour. My long, wavy brown hair brushed over the paper that decided if I would become a lawyer or not. I had endured almost seven years of school all to stare at this paper for an hour and have nothing. My vision was blurry, but I ignored it and tried to push through my pounding headache so that I could start my LSAT…show more content…
I started to shake because I was so nervous from all that was happening. Just yesterday, I was worried about passing my LSAT, and now I was being told that I have something possibly wrong with my brain. I waited until the doctors got the results from the annoying machine. I waited and waited forever. Dr. Sloan finally walked into my room right as I was about to drift off. “Your scans came back, and you have a brain aneurysm,” he said, pausing to let me take it all in. “It has grown to a very large size. The nurses told me you had been having terrible headaches and symptoms for months now. Why have you not come to the doctors before now?” he said with a sincere, worried look on his face. I thought for a moment and started to defend myself, but nothing came to mind. I had a feeling for a few months that something was wrong, but had refused to go to the hospital because I needed to work on my exam and study harder. I pushed through the pain, and eventually forgot about the terrible headaches I would endure for hours at a time. I must have zoned off because Sloan was staring at me waiting for my answer. “Can you please just let me have some time to myself. I need time to process all of this,” I remarked with a scowl on my face. Dr. Sloan started to exit the room, but he looked like he wanted to say something. He stared at me with a curious look, but briskly walked away, sighing because he had given up trying to talk to
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