Personal Narrative: A Brave New World
A year ago today I woke up from an enduring coma, which was due to a bullet hitting my frontal lobe in a mass shooting at a concert in Chicago, and it brought me to a dull country with no opportunity for advancement . I woke up to a dreary hospital room waiting for someone to come in, and I pondered a look around my room which only displayed one machine that kept me alive and a bed. Apparently the government stopped funding hospitals and several other groups because our debt came back to us to bite us in the butt. When the nurse came in she told me my sister will be by to pick me up, and then she ran away before I could ask her any questions. When my sister finally arrived she looked at me with a befuddled face, but later recognized me; however, she kept a robotic face with no expression while looking at me. Only a couple minutes later I was kicked out of my room because the machine to my right cleared me to leave. As I walked out of the building, I noticed everyone wearing drab clothing and a surplus amount of homeless people wandering the streets and coming up to me to get money or food.