“Blindfolds on!” he yelled over the noise. And suddenly the world becomes a blur of orange and white. No sounds are heightened. Nothing has changed except the fact that I couldn’t see. I hand reached out towards mine, searching for something to hold on to. The grasping off our hands felt so significant. So heavy. So crucial. Now I felt more aware of my surroundings. I’m in a classroom. No, we are in a classroom. “Grab a hand and start walking,” he spoke up over the exchange of giggles and nervous chatter, some of which were my own. A series of footsteps, including mine, followed after he gave his brief, but concise instructions. And we were off. I knew where we were going, in the beginning. We had turned right out of the classroom, towards the weight room. But after a minute of slow, hesitant walking, I discovered ‘I have no clue where I am. Had we turned already? Was I about to run into a wall? Where were we going?’ “Take a left. We are turning left,” I heard close by. I took a few more steps and BAM! No, I wan’t punched or pushed, I was gently touched. The small, seemingly insignificant touch felt much harder. Why? I was unaware of when or how or why he touched me. At first, I didn’t know who had touched me! All I knew was I was still inside the school. I knew I was holding onto two hands, one which was directing me. It took a level of trust. I had to trust he knew where he was going. I had to trust that the person in front of me wouldn’t let go of my hand. The crazy part was I wasn’t the only one with a blindfold over my eyes, impairing my vision. Our whole 3rd period class was “blind.” In the back of my mind I knew I wasn’t alone. I assumed that everyone was feeling what I was feeling. But I felt so lonely. I felt as if I was walking by myself down the hall, without being able to see. But the loud noise coming form the classrooms close by snapped me back to reality. I heard light conversations