Colors? What are colors? I never get the chance to learn how to see colors. I had lived in a world of darkness from the day I was born.
Every day, every morning, I would wake myself up, opened my eyes, my heart hoping that I can see the beautiful room my parents had decorated for me and boast about it. Unfortunately, I was disappointed every morning. I had to feel my way around the house and I envied the other kids that were playing outside my house. They were screaming and laughing happily like the world belongs to them. I had a feeling they know I can’t see so they were out there just to make me jealous. But that was just my evil thought.
I never blamed anyone about my eyes but my mom blamed herself because when I was inside her uterus, she accidentally bumped her stomach onto something hard and maybe that bump hit my nerve of my eyes.
One cheerful morning, with the birds –I don’t even know how that looked like- were chirping outside the trees beside my house, I walked down the stairs slowly, my hand holding the handle of the stairs and suddenly, a drop of glass in the kitchen shocked me out of my concentration. I missed a step and that mistake sent me tumbling down to the foot of the stairs. I crashed into the pot of flowers beside the shoe rack near the front door.
Blood was over flowing from my forehead and I was losing myself to the darkness, I was getting so used to that I welcomed it in open arms. I was seven when I had that fall. The last thing I heard before passing out was my mom’s screaming my name over and over again.
I woke up again when the doctors had finished fixing me up by removing the shattered glass from the broken glass pot from my head. My head was bandaged up and it was as heavy as an elephant. Still dizzy, I sat up but stopped when a set of hands forced me back down.