Describe a circumstance, obstacle or conflict in your life, and the skills and resources you used to resolve it. Did it change you? If so, how?
A Chance Encounter
Him. Unnoticed by common bystanders, but apparent to me. He sat there, chilled, soaked with the black tears of the sky. His face was scarred by bloody pain and agony, and yet his eyes shown with a white vibrancy. The eyes. It was as if I stared into a lantern, illuminating a dark landscape, stirring emotions that can only be characterized as awe.
I met him at the corner of 42nd Street and Mockingbird. He was covered in bags, and sat on liquefied cardboard. He held a sign, unintelligible by viewers as its words were washed away. A putrid scent drafted towards my nose, tickling the disgust I tried to hide as I gazed upon him. Everything about him screamed, “stay away,” but I came to him, as if drawn by the strings of fate.
Questions filled my throat, threatening to escape as we looked into each other’s eyes. I attempted to speak to him, but I received no response. Lost, confused, I began to secede at the apprehension, but before I moved, he made a gesture. It was a slight movement towards his mouth, outlining his shut lips, relaying a message through an unspoken language.
He was mute.
At the comprehension of this message, I began to tear. He smiled unabashedly and shook his head. He held out his hand and I reached out to grab it, feeling a reassuring pressure from him. All I could manage were three words. “I am sorry.” Three unintelligible words. An expression that could never amount to the anguish that was trapped underneath his skin. He stared up at my embarrassed gaze and smiled warm-heartedly. Not artificially, but full of appreciation. I smiled back awkwardly, and found myself quieting at his heed. I found myself looking into his eyes and seeing my reflection mirrored back. It is astounding to see yourself from another perspective, warped by their influence. I found myself staring into this image of me, as if hypnotized.
I sat there with him for approximately half an hour. During this time, nothing was spoken. Words, it seemed, hindered conversation. The eyes were the gateway to understanding. They were full of meaning, wisdom, and character. They replayed a lifetime through their bright color. The hardship, the lifetime of sorrow that he faced did not define him, but instead made him stronger. It was at that moment, staring into my reflection in his gaze, that I realized something. I am not defined by the cards that life dealt me; I am instead shaped by what I make of them. If throughout my life I let things such as failures halt my endeavors, I allow myself to be weakened. Only through optimism and resilience am I to succeed, and to live my life to the fullest.
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