Oh my. I've started writing again. But I don't promise anything, as this may not develop into anything interesting. ~ᎢᎯᎦᎻ Love Is Blind Hi. My name is Xavier. Like many 16 year old guys, I have a crush on someone. Unlike many 16 year old guys, I'm blind. Odd, huh. How can I love someone if I haven't even seen them before? Easy. Appearance doesn't matter to me, since it doesn't make a difference. Her name is Violet. Our names are both uncommon. I like that. X and V are uncommon letters, but uncommon names are even better. She's funny, sweet, kind, etc. And she wears glasses. Glasses are cool. I used to have glasses. We are best friends, something I never want to ruin. Even if it means never telling her how I feel. I can live with that. After all, I live with much worse. Mum left when I was five. I still remember her face. A blurry image from the past, basic features of a face. Brown hair. Hazel eyes. Or were they brown too? So that left me with dad and an older sister. My sister committed suicide when I was eight. I could still see then. With the help of my very thick glasses, I saw her body lying on the floor, the blood everywhere. She didn't tell anyone about the bullying and self-harm. Then there was me and dad. Me, dad and the doctor, telling me I would be completely blind within a year or two. Dad's stressed. Always is. But why wouldn't you be when you are alone in the world, with a dead daughter and a blind son? I feel sorry for him, but there's nothing I can do about it. I have a few memories of us. My sister, Isabelle, used to look after me, taking over as a motherly figure when our real mum left. Well, for a couple of years. I noticed how she started to drift away, and told dad about it, but he said that she was simply 'growing up' and needed more time by herself. Exactly what she didn't need. If only we hadn't been so blind... No pun intended.
Ah, but it was necessary. Since there was an obvious pun there but wasn't intended. What kind of blind guy would make a blind joke?
...I like this. I really do. It disappoints me that it's a love story, but whatever. It's well-written.
Thank you. I'm actually trying to steer away from the romance, the crush was mainly something to compare being blind to. 'Love Is Blind' is more of a representation of his father's unconditional love for him.
Sorry it took a while, but it is quite long... ~ᎢᎯᎦᎻ - Morning. As per usual I was woken by my alarm. As per usual, I felt my way to the bathroom, groping for my toothbrush (which was on the left side of the sink, while my dad's was on the right) and brushed my teeth. As per usual, I unlatched the gate that prevented me from falling down the stairs when going to the bathroom, and ever so carefully went downstairs. As per usual, feeling along the wall and getting to the kitchen, where all I could hear was the sipping of coffee and the ripping open of the ever accumulating bills. Support? What support? I was just another blind kid, left alone with my father and ignored by the world. Dad was the only person truly there for me. Friends could only do so much. "Morning." "Morning dad." I grasped onto the nearest chair and sat down. I heard the scraping of a plate being pushed towards me. Tentatively I reached down with my fingers, probing whatever was on the plate. Toast. With... I poked the surface of the toast and stuck the finger in my mouth. Jam. Good. I ate quickly, before getting up and retrieving my schoolbooks. I went to a regular school. Dad insisted on it, and said Isabelle would have preferred it this way. I don't like it when he talks about Isabelle. While I am close to him, he never really formed a bond with her. He talks about Isabelle so clinically; so robotically. Like she wasn't his only daughter. My textbooks were all in Braille (obviously) and I bought a laptop in with a Braille keyboard, so I could type up notes. My helper, Alison, helped me. Well what else would she do, catch butterflies? That was the one thing I was given. A helper at school. Just so I could have a shot at getting educated. She didn't really do much, just set up my laptop and have the occasional chat with me. I guess she was nice enough. Oh, and she cleared space in te corridors so nobody would get whacked by my cane. Make way for the blind kid! Don't get in his way or he'll hit you with his stick! Shame, there are some people who I wouldn't mind hitting. There aren't many. Most just pity me. But there are always some heartless and cold enough to make fun of me, poke and prod, constantly highlighting my disadvantage. But I can handle it. Dropped off at school, I walked toward the entrance with my cane stuck out infront of me. I hit something to my right. There was no yelp of annoyance or pain, so I guessed it was a tree. Wait, it was too smooth and thin. A lamppost. Three steps, then turn left. There, now I just have to walk straight ahead and I'll be at the door in no time. Ah, I'm in. Now, just down this corrido-- Knock. Jostle. The sound of books spilling onto the floor. My books. I sighed, bending down and groping for them. After a few minutes, I got my maths and geography books back, but I still had three others missing. Where had they gone... Someone joined me on the floor, quickly retrieving my books and helping me up. Too strong for Violet. "Benji!" "Hey mate. Here's your books back." I took my books from him gratefully, shoving them unceremoniously back into my bag. "Where is Vi?" I asked. "Here." A voice replied. "Oh, hey Vi." Said Benji. So she had just arrived. At least she hadn't seen me on the floor earlier. "Hey Ben." She said. "Doesn't anyone call me Benjamin?" "Nope. Xavier calls you Benji, everyone else calls you Ben." I grinned. That was what I called him, and nobody else. Benji and Vi, my two friends in this godforsaken school. At least I always had a lesson with at least one of them. The bell rang. Someone handed me my cane. "What do we have first?" "Art. You're with me." Benji took ahold of my arm, leading me to our first lesson. Art. There wasn't much I could do, but I enjoyed what was available. It was mostly just sculpting with different materials. I was sat down next to Benji when Alison finally joined me, placing my hand on what felt like a pile of clay in front of me. Clay. Again? "Sorry I'm late," She muttered. "There was some work I had to finish off." I didn't really care. If she didn't turn up, Benji and Vi could look after me. Class started. I heard the rest of the class go to the front to watch a demonstration. I poked absentmindedly at my clay, waiting for Ali to find my lesson plan. After three minutes of rustling though paper, she finally found the correct sheet. Ali wasn't very organized on Monday mornings, but she got the job done. Eventually. "Right! Well Xavier, today you shall be sculpting with clay... Again." "Ali, can't you talk with Mrs Reave?" (Mrs Reave was the art teacher. She had an inexplicable love for clay. That was the extent of my knowledge about her.) "I have been sculpting with clay for the last three lessons." She sighed. "Ok Xavier, I'll see what I can do." I heard the scraping of a chair as she got up, her forrtsteps as she walked away to procure some other sculpting material. The clay was taken away. Some new materials were dumped on my table. Ali sat back down. "There. Is plasticine ok?" "Much better. What colours?" She moved my hand to different piles of the stuff as she said the colours. "Black. White. Red. Blue. Green. Yellow." I summoned the colours up to my mind, one by one. Black. My constant companion. White. Something I'll never see again. The colour of clouds on a sunny day. Red. The colour of apples. Blue. The colour of the sea. Green. The colour of grass. Yellow. The colour of sand. The problem was this. Apart from black and white, I didn't know what the colours looked like. Only which colours corresponded to which object. Some I don't know or remember. Like the colour of a pear. I knew what a pear felt, smelled and tasted like, but not it's colour. It just seemed to slip my mind... I decided to make animals. I would start with something simple, a cat. A black one. "Ali, could you please hand me the black plasticine?" First, I rolled the head. Then I sculpted the body. I stuck them together. Legs. Feet. It was easy enough to place them. I knew what a cat looked like, where everything went. It was merely a matter of gently searching with my hands for the right place. One by one I stuck everything on, right down to fine details like claws and whiskers. Ali handed me the correct colours, mixing the right shade if necessary. The process was a meticulous one. Make a piece, search for where it goes. Stick it on. Don't make anything else fall off. But when it was done I felt a sense of pride, even if I couldn't see my finished piece of work. Art finished, Benji was by my side. "What now?" "Spanish." I sighed. While I was technically in Benji's class for Spanish, I was dragged out of the room every lesson and forced to listen to phrases over and over with a pair of half dead headphones. My poor laptop had everything downloaded onto it for French and Spanish lessons, so it was simply a matter of leaving me in a tiny side room listening to the same words over and over, repeating them out loud over and over. Hopefully something would be drilled into my head. It was tedious, but at least Ali was there. It was even more boring for her since the program did all of the work, but sometimes she would let me rip the ghastly headphones off and just talk to her. It's nice, talking to Alison. She understands me. Treats me like a normal human being. I hate it when people act all sympathetic and pitiful because I'm blind. Today was one of those times. As soon as the teacher left the room, I took the headphones off, leaving the program to run it's course by itself. "Ali, do you think I'll ever get anywhere in life?" "What makes you say that?" "Well in case you didn't realize, I'm blind?" "I didn't realize at all, Xavier. It's not like your lack of vision is the reason I'm here. But why should being blind hold you back?" "I can't do anything by myself. I always need someone to see for me, to stop me from getting run over by a car or something. How can I possibly get anywhere when I rely so heavily on other people?" "Xavier, relying on other people doesn't mean you won't get anywhere. You just need a little assistance, that's all. It's like how people can't scuba dive without an air tank. They need the air tank to survive, but they still manage to do it, don't they?" Spanish lessons aren't all that bad.
I'm one of your favorite authors? AND IKR? I AM DYING INSIDE. But at least I have Conventional Weapons...
Of course you are! Omg every killjoy is I heard 11 killjoys committed suicide because of MCR's breakup! It's crazy!!
Oh my god... They committed suicide? Thats awful... MCR were about saving lives. Stopping that kind of thing from happening. Just because they are gone does not mean the strength and hope they gave is gone too.