Blind

I'm trying to memorize the monologue I have to perform in drama ... tomorrow :-S. Since I feel like writing a blog also, I'm gonna try and kill two birds with one stone ;-)
BLIND
Grey was the first colour I ever saw.
Then there was red.
I can't begin to tell you how grateful I am. Yet it's all so confusing. A whirlwind of confusion. Realize, of course, that I've never seen a whirlwind before, but I'm going to. I'm going to see everything!
I want the charges on the boy dropped. Yes, I realize I am walking around with a concussion, but that does not give you any right not to listen to me. I belong to a family of taxpayers. I have every right to be treated like your boss, not some random lady that got jumped at the seven-eleven two weeks ago.
Grey was the first colour I ever saw. But it wasn't until I saw red that I realized what grey meant to me. I needed that: the sight of my own blood on the greyed pavement, to realize that I wasn't looking at merely nothing. Nothingness has a colour.
Mr. Bowman, my whole life doctors have been telling me and my family that my blindness was a fixable condition. It was some sort of faulty connection in a nerve. For twenty-six years they've been sending us bills for pumping me full of drugs and cutting me open to take a look. They've charged my family tens of thousands of dollars and given us nothing but their confusion that I was still blind. In one night, that kid solved my problem, yet all he got was the seven dollars in my wallet. Do you honestly think that a person like that kid just whams blind ladies in the head for a hobby? He gave me a miracle, and I am refusing to press charges. Yet you keep holding him, calling him a public threat. I am a taxpayer, and I refuse to let you use my tax money to hold that child.
It's obvious that you don't care, you're just some monkey in a double-breasted uniform. You use that soft voice, yeah, I can read insincerity in my earshot, and I tell you, I have good ears. I've spent twenty-six years looking at you with these ears. Twenty-six years of excuse me's and I'm sorry and being sent down the wrong street because I couldn't read the sign. Please, I'm trying to make a point here. That kid gave me something that twenty-six years of doctors and drugs and operations couldn't. But you keep bringing up laws and society and crime. Which crime?
Maybe, on Saturday, I was only trying to get a pack of cigarettes-you look surprised. Didn't you know that blind women can smoke too? I prefer Camels light, and I can tell just as well as anyone when I'm given the wrong brand. Maybe I was only trying to buy some smokes, but I got a miracle. And yeah, it hurt, so did all the operations I've had. You think brain surgery is a day at the fair?
Hey, I made an appointment to talk to you and you're treating me like someone who doesn't have a right to voice an opinion in this situation. Mr. Bowman, I was the victim. I lost a pint of blood, but I'll give it back. You need to believe me that I will fight for this boy's defense. What kind of society raises thirteen-year-old boys to attack blind women? The same society that kept turning me down for employment. I know what world he's been in. A world that keeps everybody but the perfect out.