Comic book junkie. Probably own over 100 paperbacks-specially made, of course. No, they're not regular comic books...superheros' and all, yea. However, there are no words in those boxes that people tell me that exist. It's all braille. And perhaps no pictures, waste of ink if you can't see the detail. Instead I see these events in my mind.
Not many blind people were trained to do this...but I can see every detail of the Earth around me in my own way. In my world. The way I want to see the trees and grass. How my clothes might look today, even though my older sister, Benni, comes over and picks out clothing just to make sure I look perfect. But that's not the only thing I can see.
Before I became blind...I had a life. I could do everything, anything I wanted. Be a normal girl...but this...this changed me. Everyone forgot who the jumpy, happy-go-lucky, spontaneous Cynthia White was. Now my figure is pitty. I couldn't go out for field hockey in my freshman year. I couldn't go to the damn library for a project. No, I had to be transferred out of school to get access to books that were suit for me. And the biggest day of the year, during my senior year, I couldn't go to prom.
Now I got to tell you, I can clearly remember when I had sight, and I would look into the mirror everyday before school. My hair with the normal, bouncy curls. The red locks coming down to right above my upper chest. Hazel eyes, long eyelashes. Soft pink lips, glazed in lip-gloss. And my pale skin, with freckles orderly under my eyes going across my nose to the other side. Now I was beautiful, pageant winner ten times...takes a lot of practice. But because of my lasting beauty, I can remember hearing all the guys come up to me, walker in hand and shaded glasses resting on my petite nose, asking me if I could go to prom with them. Wanting to say yes so badly, I couldn't. "Don't even think about saying yes to prom, Cynthia because you're not going," Mothers orders.
The best night of my crappy life was ruined. I sat at home, cuddled in my blankets and listened to the radio. Didn't say a word all night. Just sat there, wrapped up like a cocoon. Wishing that my little caterpillar life would soon bloom out to be a majestic butterfly. But no, my life stays terrible. I stay unhappy. And all of the people around me, I can hear there voice change in an instant once they talk to me. My friends, family, even my own dog changes once we cuddle. Instead of his tail bouncing on the couch, I'll feel it sway slowly under the covers. What's wrong with me?
Is there some negative aura coming off of me? Am I just that insecure that other people, or animals, have to feel sorry for me? I'm stronger than this. Way stronger. I'm not weak. I'm not insecure. Trust me...I think I know myself pretty well.
I live in my own apartment in the city, 20th floor. If I could only see the view, it's probably breath taking. I know...I know...how do you manage to do it? Live in a high floor building, when you're...you know...blind.
It's pretty simple actually. First off, you have to have a mum that owns the number one company in the state. She lends you a couple million; you buy a house, get interior, pay for college, books and stuff. Then get a well-trained seeing-eye dog, and a butler for shopping, cleaning, and yada yada yada. You get the idea. And bada-bing bada-boom! Your set.
I did want to be smart with my money though...Not like some greedy people out there that think money just grows on trees. Right now, I'm doing fine. Ronald is buying enough stuff for the dog, for him and me. Doing well in college...It's all good. Simple work...for me...
Maybe, it would just be easier...if I...could have this all solved. This...problem. Something isn't exactly right. It's kind of hard to explain, but I can at least try-
"Hello?" I breathe into the phone.
"Hey, it's Lia. Um..." there was a pause.
"Um, what?" I giggled.
"Do you like have plans or anything today? I was thinking of seeing a mo-" Her voice deepened and slowed as she got to the end of her 'sentence'.
I tapped my nails against the back of the phone.
"What?" Lia said, as if she was calling out to someone.
"Oh sorry, Cynthia. But...I...uh, got to go. See you in class, tomorrow!" She hung up.
This is what I'm talking about. Exactly what I'm talking about. She was going to do something, figured I can't do it because of my issue, came up with an excuse to leave, and gone. I can't do anything anymore. Ever.