Everyone who continues to read this solipsistic crap should get free chocolate or something.

Dear woman on the bus,

I know that you were attempting to be kind by ushering this blind girl, whom you assume can't see anything, to a seat on a crowded bus. I also observed by the look you gave your friend, that you may have taken offense when I said, rather tersely, "Thank you; don't touch; all right," and moved to a seat further from where you are. Let me take a moment to explain from my point of view.

1) Since I have a very narrow field of vision, your sudden touch on my arm surprised the holy hell out of me. So did the fact that you seemed to be insistent, not letting go immediately. It felt more like a pulling touch than a guiding touch, if you know what I mean. This makes me tense and cranky.

2) I also think it's not nice to touch people without asking, unless you are trying to prevent them from falling into a precipice or retrieving them from a burning building, or other similar dire scenarios.

3) My balance is pretty unstable. When you grab my forearm and tug on it, just a little bit, it throws me off balance.

4) Your grabbing of my arm delayed me getting to the seat I wanted. I know you wanted me to sit sideways in the very front of the bus, because that is where I'm pretty sure you've seen most blind people sit. Sitting sideways on the bus sometimes makes me seasick. Sitting sideways on the bus ALWAYS minimizes my ability to use what remaining vision I have. I noticed that there was a front-facing seat, and I wanted to get to it. You were preventing me from doing this by grabbing my arm.

4) I felt guilty all the way to my stop, as the bus chugged slow slow slowly up the south side slopes. I was sincerely hoping you'd get off before me, but no. I tried to make amends by saying "have a good one," and doing that half-smile thing I've been working on, but you may not have noticed it. I'm pretty soft spoken around people I don't know.

5) Maybe it will cheer you up, as it did me, that as I was unlocking my front door, I heard the neighbor kid call his sibling a "giant butt cheek." I snort-laughed loudly, like HA, and stuck my head all the way into the mailbox to cover up my laughter. I'm giggling now as I remember it. Perhaps you don't approve of that kind of language, but I'm offering it as a giftlet of humor, which we probably all need more of. I know I do.