MY EYES

It’s a lot smaller than I thought it would be. When I slid out from my cosy shell, everything seemed so big as I blinked in the sunlight. It pained my eyes.

I travelled the world and returned to find adults blind and retreating into prosthetic shells made from concrete blocks, hops, nicotine, cotton and plasma. It pains my eyes.

They have chosen their path – their tiny, bare path, and forfeited their adventures. And so I, with my four eyes, have the adventures of many lifetimes over and over.

They have closed their eyes and stopped up their own ears. They have caved in their own heads and cut off their own hands and legs. They are infirm and unable. This pains my eyes.

I found this piece a couple of weeks ago in an old notebook and it is quite apt for my current situation. I am re-locating to mainland Europe from the UK, and even though it’s a minefield, especially with the legal framework of the country I’m moving to, I’m still going because I know that I will stagnate if I don’t take action to change my current direction. I know there are adventures waiting for me in the place I am going to.

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About catherinehume

Catherine Hume: Writer, social care worker and a liver of a life less ordinary.
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