(Original draft written last Wednesday, February 5. Just deleted a few bits here and there before posting. Fuck, this post sucks.)
I wanted to write about my vision.
That is, about the Lasik surgery I had last January 28. I wanted to write about the whole experience I had of the procedure - such as my fears, the actual sensations, and the overnight recovery. From a grade of -6.75 in the left eye and -8.00 in the right eye, plus really bad astigmatism, I am now able to see the whole fucking world in 20/20.
I can see individual blades of grass now. And those leaves! High definition, baby.
I was happy and really excited to put it into writing.
But as I mulled over ideas and various points to put in, I realized I was drifting farther and farther away from my initial intention.
Everyday, I would string together words in my mind, and imagery. But as days pass, the initial bright and sunny glow became dimmer and dimmer. Sure, I love my new eyes. I loved that I won't get hit by cars, people, walls, or furniture now whenever I decide to move around. But a great dread also grew inside me as I became more acquainted with clear vision. And it affected the ideas I had for writing.
I'm afraid of contact with people, and situations that involves contact with other people*. It's hard to describe or explain to others who haven't personally experienced the feeling before, and difficulty to do so also adds to the burden. Since others (including some people we love) won't and don't understand, it becomes something they'll be quick to brush off - I know they don't mean it, but it still hurts and it really makes them look like an ass.
Anyway, like I said, I'm afraid. And now that my vision is perfect, I have come to realize that I have lost an important shield against the terrors of interacting with people.
Of course, it had to be a cat picture.
See that picture I put up there? It sounds really stupid and pathetic, but that's what I've been using to condition my mind every time I have to go out and be in places I don't really want to be in - i.e., in the ground floor of the Governor's Office, for time-ins and time-outs.
I intentionally stare at the floor or un-focus my eyes while I walk the painful distance between the fingerprint scanner and the logbook across the room. Nobody minds me because they just attribute my weird habits to poor eyesight. They don't know the truth that I'm walking cross-eyed because I'm actually trying to become invisible.
With the clarity of my vision now known to everyone, I can't rely on such low, cowardly tactics anymore. Though it's for the better (yes, even I know that), I can't help but feel trapped.
The loss of this exit means I have to meet people's gazes and wrestle the monster whose three heads have the names: "Should I greet them?", "Should I make small talk?", and "Do I smile?". The thought made me visibly clench while closing our gate behind me this Monday. I have no choice to man the fuck up, as it's too late to extend my sick leave now that I'm fully dressed and out the door.
So, I just went with it. Numbed myself, and remembered that...holy fuck, IT'S A MONDAY. And may flag ceremony nga pala every Monday. Which means, the only people at the office are the guards. Everyone else were at the park.
I was safe from any encounter that I feared to have that morning.
There was relief, cool and enveloping. Followed by embarrassment. Then finally, self-loathing.
I already know how stupid my fears were, but to have been anxious to the point of forgetting it was a Monday - the only day I could relax coming into the office - made me feel sillier. I want to change. Damn, I really need to change. Fuck I'm so disappointed in myself I'm not even gonna finish this shit.
I'm going to sleep. Fuck.
I'm pretty sure people would find this post funny, but it really wasn't for me.
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