Everyday Thoughts

Windows of my Soul

As Spring flourishes and nature begins its chemical warfare on all mankind, I for the first time since obtaining my contact lenses am having increased difficulty seeing.
Every day I wake up reluctant to place my miracle lenses onto my pupils because they seem to reject me. Two weeks have passed and I have changed to a new pair of lenses three times already. Which wasn't supposed to happen for at least two more months. Coupled with this plight on my eyes was the plague that pollen had bestowed upon my nostrils. My trashcan is so full of tissue that one could assume that I spend all day pleasuring myself until my arm goes numb.
To make matters worse, my medicine is doing nothing more than speeding up my heart rate. Farewell Allegra D, you are no longer useful. I keep thinking that eventually this will end, but not before many tissue issues, blind days of school, itchy or dry eyes, sneezing fits, and the god awful sound of my voice with a plugged nose.
To be honest, I could put up with all of it if I was just able to see. Ever since I was a kid my eyes were the best window of entertainment, sight is my greatest gift. As an artist it is how I judge if my work is at least close to sufficient of my minds eye view and imagination. As a man it allows me to see the beauty of the opposite sex. The lovely curves and long (or short) curls, thick and or slender legs toned and untoned, smooth lips and wide hips, soft breasts and nice chests.. I could go on with such sweet torment for days. As a lover of visually pleasing aesthetics and abstracts my sight is the most beloved sense that of all.
Yet my eyes are cursed, doomed to quit my body before my mind fades and heart ceases. This began in my second year of grade school when I looked at the board and realized that I could not see it. My eyes were failing already at such a young age.
When I returned to school I was pinned with such names as four eyes, poindexter, and Harry Potter, but I did not care for the names. I just wished to see without the aid of such a crude invention as glasses. Hideous, wretched, painful glasses. Leaving marks upon my nose, cracks upon my pride, and constant grief if I even lost them, misplaced them, broke them, or even slightly "corrected them" resulting in a near unrepairable mistake. I hated my glasses. I merely had to suffer them in order to gain my sight when I needed it the most.
After many years of the accursed glasses. I had one particular year of an not so abnormal spike in physical attraction towards a girl. My crush made me want to perfect myself, to look not like myself of that time. Seeing how I was already given the unavoidable obstacle of braces, I was going to have to do something about my eyes. I recalled one moment where I asked her.

"Hey, Diana?" She looked my way with that big beautiful face of hers. "How do I look?" I said removing my glasses with my coveted suave.

"I think you look better with the glasses on." BANG! That unconcerned tone coupled with that statement filled my chest with a hot leaded frenzy of rock-salt and shrapnel. I refused to allow glasses the victory. So I finally worked toward getting contact lenses.
It was bitter and annoying work, but the results were astounding. I could see again! My eyes of youth were back and improved. I could see farther and clearer. The best part was, I couldn't even feel them! I rejoiced in my newfound sight that only required cleaning, and swapping every 4 weeks or so. Although, Diana did not seem to care. Not about my eyes, long lashes, or new wardrobe. Such a fool I was for seeing anything in her.
For the next several years I was in sightful bliss with my contacts. They were with me at the gym, at the Karate Tournament, at my community service, at my trip to Turkey, at my first driving lesson, and at my first Quinceñera. (I was a guest there.. I didn't have a quin.. you get the point) 
Now, my little miracles were hurting me. I CAN FEEL THEM, writhing on my eyeballs, blurring my once clear world. Poisoning my retina and dyeing my eye red with water and pain. One day its left, another its right, if not one it would be both. Its a struggle to look up or around and a chore to focus and stare. What went wrong? Then it hit me. I flashed back to that dark room where the optometrist told me that my eyesight had regressed to being as poor as my mother's. She who was in her midlife. To my great disdain I found that this would continue. That one day I may even be blind. To an even further extent, so would my children and their children's children. The big picture sitting in front of me, was the last and only thing I would ever clearly see for the foreseeable future. No matter what assistance or crutch I money can buy me. NOTHING can give me my eyes back.
This spring will be the first of many where I will suffer the pain of losing my sight, and realize the futility of my pursuit of seeing. One day I will lose these windows to my soul, and enter complete and utter darkness. The one true oblivion that will face us all awaits my once clear world.