The World of the Blind
I can feel the breeze blowing back my brunette hair, the grass tickling my feet, and the rough, soothing texture of the bark behind me. No one can judge me here; no one can whisper behind my back thinking I can't hear. No one can look at me in pity, thinking I can't see it but they don't know that I can feel it. Out here I can relax and blend in, feel like a part of something. I think this is what people call happiness, being a part of something. But how could I know? I lost all sense of happiness with my eyesight. Both shriveled up into nothingness. But I know I'll find a way to get it back,; I just have to.