I'm a Hazard to Myself

Do yourself a favor, you who can't see without glasses. Read this poem.

I've been reluctant to wear my glasses, recently; it's a mixture of hating to depend on something and thinking about this poem. For those who aren't link followers, the poem by Lisel Mueller describes Monet refusing to have surgery done on his failing eyes. At one point, he says,

"I tell you it has taken me all my life
to arrive at the vision of gas lamps as angels,
to soften and blur and finally banish
the edges you regret I don't see...."

I've been trying to appreciate the things that are closest to me, both in proximity and in feeling. Luckily, I'm incredibly near-sighted (so much so that something that is three feet from my face is hazy), which aids me in paying attention to my immediate surroundings. As far as the people closest to me, they know I'm blind and don't laugh too much as I squint to see them.

I'm working so hard at being the person I should be. And I feel that this "person" is someone who appreciates what she has.

What I have is crappy eyesight and a beautiful world in front of me.