not out of choice, but out of necessity.
It would be naive to believe otherwise.
A well sighted human functions differently to a blind man. A man with an open wound must function differently to a healthy man. Sight I have, but not enough. I have the pain of a wounded human yet no marks to show.
By my next birthday I will have spent twenty years hoping there will be some way of overcoming my poor sight and five years hoping for a cure for my unusual nerve condition.
Is it not time I gave up on such things?
And I have, not out of choice but out of necessity. I am bored of "what-if's" and silly little waves of optimism - they achieve nothing, yet still I find myself being re-aquainted with my little friend who names himself Hope but he has left me and in his place Reality has stepped in.
Never will I see. Never will I live a day without physical pain.
I feel like I am sixteen years old again except this time I wont allow a pain consultant to raise my hopes with various drugs and strange ideas. I have just wasted three years of my life living under the impression that trifluoperazine will fix everything.
I am angry, angry at my sixteen year old self for believing such things were possible, angry at my seventeen year old self for allowing that belief to carry on - angrier still that at the age of eighteen and nineteen I still allowed that hope to grow stronger. Why did I get my hopes up? Why for one minute did I believe it would be that easy? Was I really that desperate to find a way of reducing the retarded nature of my nerves that I failed to see it was illogical and stupid? Did it really mean that much to me. Why did I allow my own stupidity and naivety to cover logic and sense?
I do not know, all I know is that I never want it to happen again. The disappointment is too painful. And I can only blame myself. It's about time I grew up.
I thought I was cynical before. Apparently I intend to take cynicism to a whole new level.