No, I’m not talking about that stupid Robin Thicke song everyone is up in arms about. If I wanted to write a piece about women’s rights, or lack thereof, I would submit it to The Eagle.
I went to the eye doctor yesterday for the first time in almost six years. I had gotten an eye exam in high school and moved to DC nearly a year later. School, friends, work took precedence-going to a doctor, any doctor, did not. It took me nearly four years to finally see a specialist for what I thought was a set of terrible tummyaches. I could have known how sick I really was so much sooner-but I digress.
So I went to the eye doctor, who spent the better part of the exam marveling at how bad my eyesight was for someone my age. It wasn’t until I told him what my prescription had been for the contacts I had just taken out that he actually stopped and stared.
“That’s nearly half the measurements that I’m getting right now. How have you been able to see?!”
For over five years, everything I have been seeing has been blurry and fuzzy. There haven’t been words on street signs for years, haven’t been straight edges on sidewalks. Faces were softer, rounder, friendlier. And honestly? I didn’t mind it so much.
One of my best friends sees the world in black, and in white. His world’s gradient drops off like Wile E. Coyote on a Saturday morning. Everything about the world he lives in is sharp, crystal clear, with no room for anything remotely fuzzy. And we’ve been fighting a lot lately, more than usual, and I think this might be why.
Here I am, stumbling through life by-quite literally-feeling my way through it. I don’t think in finality, or extremes, or even in simple yes or no. It lets me see what others really mean, instead of what they’re putting on for show. They let you hold onto hope without feeling the sharp pangs of finality that cut too deeply too often for your own good. Blurred lines can be messy, sure, but the way I see it, they can be beautiful, too.
The doctor gave me a new pair of contacts to try, with the right prescription this time. Everything is sharp, clear-there are edges and words on signs and smiles on faces that I was apparently missing. I guess I just was able to feel when someone grinned, and honestly, that’s enough for me. Because honestly, the clarity is becoming just too much, and it’s giving me a headache.