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vollmusI've always wanted two things, two things I've always thought I could never have: a twin, and very bad far sight. I've always wanted the comfort someone you knew was exactly like you, yet different, could bring, the closeness I could feel in that kind of relationship. I knew from the moment I heard about twins that I wanted to be one. Of course, it's not generally something one suddenly becomes after their birth. I've always known it was unattainable, and it just depresses me to think of it, but I've never let go of it.
I never thought I could have my dream of terrible vision, either. I've always wished I could just take off my glasses and have the world disappear, leaving a place where nothing was perfect, nothing was clear, and nothing had to be perfect or clear. I've always thought that would be insanely comforting, in the oddest way. Of course, one doesn't generally develop near-sightedness in their youth. I've always known I could never actually experience that comfort for the depressed, but I've never let it go.
Until now. Because, you see, I have apparently achieved the generally impossible. By wishing hard enough, I suppose, I have become sligtly near-sighted—enough to get glasses. And seeing through those glasses, my friends, I have discovered a new world—a world of clean, sharp lines, a world of colors not dampened by blurs. Of course, this new world brings with it one even better, one I've always known, but never realized. I've found my comforting world, where everything smears together just enough to be perfect, but not. I've found the best thing that could ever have happened to me, on the best day of the worst two weeks of my life. It's perfect, it's brilliant, it's amazing, it's flawed, and even better is that my glorious books aren't marred at all! I've been set free into a new world of crisp lines and clean signs, and all I have to do to return to the comfort of imperfection is remove the glasses. What need exists for a dream once it has become reality?
A wonderful invention, glasses. They really improve a person's life. All I need now is to find my long-lost twin. Maybe if I head into the woods. . . .
I never thought I could have my dream of terrible vision, either. I've always wished I could just take off my glasses and have the world disappear, leaving a place where nothing was perfect, nothing was clear, and nothing had to be perfect or clear. I've always thought that would be insanely comforting, in the oddest way. Of course, one doesn't generally develop near-sightedness in their youth. I've always known I could never actually experience that comfort for the depressed, but I've never let it go.
Until now. Because, you see, I have apparently achieved the generally impossible. By wishing hard enough, I suppose, I have become sligtly near-sighted—enough to get glasses. And seeing through those glasses, my friends, I have discovered a new world—a world of clean, sharp lines, a world of colors not dampened by blurs. Of course, this new world brings with it one even better, one I've always known, but never realized. I've found my comforting world, where everything smears together just enough to be perfect, but not. I've found the best thing that could ever have happened to me, on the best day of the worst two weeks of my life. It's perfect, it's brilliant, it's amazing, it's flawed, and even better is that my glorious books aren't marred at all! I've been set free into a new world of crisp lines and clean signs, and all I have to do to return to the comfort of imperfection is remove the glasses. What need exists for a dream once it has become reality?
A wonderful invention, glasses. They really improve a person's life. All I need now is to find my long-lost twin. Maybe if I head into the woods. . . .
