Blindness caught up to me. My eyes felt lifeless, incomplete, morose in their squalid useless sockets. The vestige once held up high to peruse the world around me was no more; death of the feeble pupil, a wilting iris in a wintry cave. Warm tears ran down, I felt them linger, inch by inch branching down. It was a wholly new sensation. Without the blurred and smeared visual I could sense the moistness creeping with such an intensity I could feel it go over every pore. A traveling faucet with its drip drip never ending. I stopped everything, now it was to pass getting used to this new mode of being.
I felt around as I walked, trying to orient myself. The smells around me were harsher, vivid images floated into my head in sharp bursts that collided and confused me. I had trouble figuring out what was where and how to move about. I took baby steps forward, my arms waving in front of me searching and searching. I felt like a lighthouse awaiting a crash. Every creak of the floor made me wince, the air conditioning whir seemed so loud, as if an amplifier were attached to a seashell and I was surrounded by the tones of the sea. I made it to the door, where to go now?
How can I live like this? I thought of all the things I would miss out on. The movies I would never see, the glory of nature, the sunsets, the park at dusk, those suicidal bunnies that run in front of your car. I would never see a woman’s smile anymore either, what was a sense of humor worth when you couldn’t see the results?
I would get used to it all I’m sure but this was a worst fear come true. I had lived so much of my life enthralled by visuals, wrapped up and raptured by the sights of the world. My painting and drawing, gone, building power computers, gone, photographing nature divine, gone. A whole new set of hobbies would have to be taken up, living in the moment would require a hodgepodge of the remaining senses just to get right.
This must be a dream, a nightmarish Kafkaesque situation deforming my reality, taking hold of my deepest fears and thrusting them upon me in cruel fashion to see me writhe in agony at the thought of living like this. This is sick, twisted, vileness! Cursed abominations tainting my windowless soul so that I may be as a child damaged and abused, curling into themselves and whimpering to fend off the terrors of the abrasive night.
The lashing cold licking at my face, tearing pieces of my skin off to feed the wintry air. How I suffer so endlessly, so coarsely and incessantly within instances in my head. An unremitting horror encapsulated in a milisecond, time and again, again in time, the plaguing dark lurches forward. I move ahead, onward, dragging my legs as I go, an unseen barge at my feet. Ready to face a new dawn with upturned face and open ears. What else do I have left?