Writing: The Act of Becoming Blind.

Discussion in 'Your Projects' started by Whither Pluck, Mar 27, 2017.

  1. #1
    Whither Pluck

    Whither Pluck Member

    Joined:
    Mar 27, 2017
    Messages:
    6
    Likes Received:
    1



    I am completely blind. I took the big step.
    I have removed my own eyes, even severed the optical cord,
    and held the nerve in hand.
    It was much harder than I thought.
    I removed them to remind myself that not all that glitters is gold,
    and that my heart is made of that precious metal,
    or so I've been told.
    It is small, hard, yellow and cold.

    The first cut was excruciating,
    and I screamed for what seemed like days.
    It was slow going at first,
    but pain motivates in many different ways.
    This way was tried and true and it worked for me.
    Second cut was sharp, concise, and very deep.
    I no longer felt alone or unwhole. I felt relieved.
    Relieved that I could put my hands to face and weep.
    It was insane to be freed from sight,
    swallowing pride and iron taste with every beat of my heart.

    It was hard not to notice the blood that came shooting out from my eyes.
    I wrote my thanks and grievances in soft goodbyes and lullabies.

    It dragged out. I almost bled out, too.
    Let me tell you, it was not a pretty sight.
    The blood didn't clot like I thought it would,
    and I saw stars and darkness in shimmering light.

    But I had to convince myself that it was a good idea,
    the right thing to do.
    It was incredibly hard to look at myself,
    and be constantly reminded of you.

    Now I cannot look away and pretend,
    that I didn't see this coming,
    how much one sways when you empty out.
    I am alone, but no longer feel lonely.
    I caught myself shedding skin;
    a bad time for instability when you change from within.

    But I had to convince myself that it was the right thing to do.
    It was incredibly hard to look at myself,
    and be constantly reminded of you.
     

Share This Page