These eyes;

The older I get the more I learn that I know nothing.

Sure, I’m a know-it-all with a penchant for odd, and surprisingly useless facts, but still, I’m clueless as they come.

I have so much time in my day and sometimes I know how to put every single second to good use, ultimately benefitting, me, and therefore the universe. But most of the time, even knowing how to put my time to such good use, I end up lying in bed for far too long, staring at someone’s ceiling, or the morning sky, whichever I wake up beneath. I lie there,  peering through my bleary morning eyeballs, dizzily trying to focus through all the blur affecting my already poor vision, not to see anything in particular, but just to see. I’ve always been a little frightened that my vision won’t ever clear up. It’s so foggy in the mornings and sometimes the minutes hit double digits, threatening to stay this way forever, and let me tell you, being blind would absolutely, positively be my worst nightmare.

So, I’m lying there trying to focus on anything, trying to ascertain colors again, and low-key worrying that I’ll never see properly again. Which is when I think about the eye doctor; the arm & a leg, no flattering eye ware to speak of, always a little lost, as doctors generally are when it comes to me, eye doctor. I don’t much care for the physician of sight, or any medical practitioners, for that matter. The dentist is, of course, the worst one but that is a mute point.

So, by now these things are all soaring around in my head, as I blink lazily in and out of consciousness. I dream a lot in the mornings, and they are always of a very real nature, real people from my real life, with whom i am really supposed to spend time, in a very real sense, doing (most) of the things that are really in my dreams starring them. These dreams are naturally nonsensical and I don’t remember most of them when I wake up, partially because I immediately start in with the fault in my eyes, and partly because dreams are just so damn hard to keep straight, ask anyone.

On occasion, I can be in bed in this manner for a matter of hours, or at least an absurdly high conglomeration of minutes. This is when I think to myself about what trash I am because it’s 11 o’clock on a Tuesday and I’m still in bed worrying about my (usually) decent eyesight, and drifting off to dreamland still when I could be making much better use of my time. Or because It’s 12:30 on a Wednesday, and I’m still in bed, barely conscious, thinking that if my eyes don’t clear up, I don’t ever want to wake up anyways, on the grounds of, what would my life be without sight? So I may as well just stay here in bed, checking on my eyesight periodically and in the meantime catching up on all the sleep I definitely lost out on as a teenager. Which let me tell you was WEEKS worth, months even! So technically, I can stay in bed with a legitimate excuse until Christmas, and by then if my blurry eyeballs haven’t righted themselves I’ll just have to get a dog, so that it can cheer me up and take me places. Like to the grocery store. Dogs are probably really good at grocery shopping because I distinctly remember that anytime I’ve ever had a dog it would nose at all my favorite snacks, especially the sad ones. So, really a dog would be the only logical solution to this hypothetical reality of sleeping my eyes into health and wellness for the first time since I was 7.

Somethings gotta give though, on account of, I don’t know how much longer I can stand waking up with a splitting headache that instantaneously transforms into a blinding migraine at the first sign of daylight. A migraine that forces me into my heart shaped aviators in the kitchen while the coffee is poured, and then shoves me right back into my dungeon of a bedroom where I can comfortably switch back into my prescription lenses to give these poor little sight holes a break from the strain of waking up in the wee hours of the afternoon, long after any reasonable human has begun their day.

Assuming, that I get out of bed, and assuming that I don’t just get coffee, turn and shuffle straight back into my bedroom with the shades drawn, the lights off and the covers ever so inviting. Assuming that I decide to swallow the pain with a swig of black coffee and a handful of Advil. Assuming, that I get dressed and get back out there and pretend that I am not imploding from the knives and hammers doing a jig inside my poor, innocent skull. And most of all, assuming that my eyes clear away their morning mist and allow me to gaze gratefully once more, on the day that is before me. Assuming all of this, we can now move on to productivity, which as I mentioned previously, I am quite adept at.

If I live through my mornings, which are simultaneously the most horrifying, part of my day and the most beautiful, peaceful and restful parts, then hopefully I will be moving on to a day of expanding my mind, creating, maintaining, socializing and exploring.

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