When I first got my classes, I was angry. Angry because I had to rely on something else in order to be up to par with people with good vision. Angry because I wasn't good enough, angry that I had to have them to drive, angry that lying down on a pillow with them on bent the frames, angry that no matter how hard I tried, the lenses got scratched, angry angry angry, angry that people saw me and commented on it, angry that after over a year of wearing them, people were still surprised when I'd pull them out to read something.
Over time, it became from just an annoyance, go to class? Bring my glasses and use them to see. Go to a movie? Bring your glasses so you can see the movie. Walking down the street to meet a friend? Bring your glasses so you can see who they are from more than 10 ft away.
Not that I hadn't managed all these things without my glasses previously. In class, I'd squint and get good at making out the slightest differences between blobs, or if all else failed read the notes of someone next to me. Seeing a movie? The movie screens were big enough that I could get the general idea and just gloss over some minor scenery details. Walking down the street? My friends made up things that would distinguish us, things that might look like a casual gesture, but could be seen from far away.
The world, in my eyes, was blurry. And to my mind, when I had my glasses on the world was more distracting. No longer was there a blob of green that swayed, but hundreds of individual leaves, each with their own colour and motion. No longer were people in hallways or malls just blurs walking by, but people with distinct unique faces and interesting appearances. No longer was my brother a cheery toned face guy, but a man with facial scarring and traces of his woes written on his once smooth face.
Blurry was beauty. People were prettier meshed together into one big mess. When everything in my vision became sharp, people showed up clearer, but so often, they were people trying to hide behind masks of falsehoods. Reality came into view full swing, harsh bitter reality. Perhaps it was just reality biting down on my naive view of the world. That maybe we can all get by a little easier and get along with each other if we blur the lines between each other?
Nowadays, I wear my glasses when I'm not reading, or on my computer. They've been giving me headaches because of the scratches and I probably need a new prescription. Ever since I've started wearing my glasses everyday, I've been more inclined to think depressing thoughts. And I don't know if that's because I'm just in a bad place in my life right now, or if it's some subconscious effort to let my mind know how wearing glasses makes me feel?
Seems odd to invest so much of my time and effort into thinking about my glasses, and how they affect my life. But honestly, it's the little things that matter.
I haven't sharpened my blurry vision enough to forget that fact in all the distractions of reality
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