A Little Flash of Color

Through The Eyes Of The Beholder

Some say that blindness is a physical trait. That what we can't see is a disability and a handicap at enjoying life. I believe the opposite of this statement, because not only am I able to understand people around me, but I'm also able to read and understand my surroundings. Everything is heightened, more sensitive.

In a sense, society itself is blind to what it does not wish to see. The outcasts of our world are invisible, never seen nor touched. Yet, these people seem to know more about our world than anyone else.

—-

It has been two months since the accident. Throughout that time, I've learned to dwell in the comfort of independence. I want to be able to do things myself. Of course, I will have my limitations. I understand this. I will never be able to drive again; anywhere. I will never be able to see colors, nor take pictures again. It's kind of depressing, one of the only things that gave me happiness was ripped away from me, in a blink of an eye; literally.

People have come to my house, more than I can count, giving me some sort of 'condolence' for what happened to me. I never understood why they kept apologizing for what had already happened. "Don't apologize unless you can do something about it." I spat at another person who said "I'm sorry". They didn't do anything to me, and they cannot erase or fix the action, so why do they have the right to humble themselves to me? I am not charity. I think that this is why I've relied myself to my independence.

—-

School is starting again soon, and mom keeps trying to convince me to start home schooling. I refuse, saying that I need to have human interaction and I work better in an environment that is uncomfortable. What better place to feel uncomfortable than at high school when you are blind? She never believes me. "Honey, I just think it would be easier on you to get used to what you can and can't do." She has a soft smile. "I don't think that you can comprehend what I need right now. I know my limitations. My boundaries, and I have learned how to read my surroundings well. I'm ready for this, mom. I need my life back." She grabs my hand and softly rubs circles into my palm. "Okay. Only if you are 100 percent sure that you are confident enough to go. A lot of people are going to ask questions, you know." Of course they would.