Why I Wrecked My Vision

I chose bad eyesight. So that I don’t have to see what and whom I don’t want to see.
The first time, I chose bad eyesight, I was 10. I’d just figured out what sex was. I knew Dad and Mom didn’t do it. I didn’t know what it was. I know they hid it behind that door, and a big, solid piece of furniture. They always told me to watch television. I never did watch television. I heard noises. I heard breathing. I heard the bed moving. And that’s it.
I feel sorry for myself. It sure is easier than letting myself be beautiful and owning my power.
I am a terrorist. Because I hide from myself.
My vision is double. And it is very very blurry. And I refuse to wear my glasses. I prefer my fantasy world to the real world. The real world is such a nasty place. I do not want to fall in love. I do not ever want to fall in love.
I want to stay ugly. I want to drink in their beauty. I want to stay an alien. I want to cut them off. I want to be forbidden terroritory.
I want to be a tragedy. I want to be the victim of my tragedy. I want a sad, sad ending to my soap opera.
I’m giggling. I said some comic things. Somebody blasted some reggae music way too loudly in this library. Yes. I’m at a public library typing this. And I am tremendously lonely!


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