I am not a religious person, but purgatory always seemed like a really tough place to reside. You are neither here nor there; you don’t possess the luxury of knowing that your eternity will be spent either strolling over the luxurious landscapes of Heaven or navigating the sweltering rocky terrain of Hell. It is an undefined space of utter uncertainty, invisible and nowhere. At this particular stage of my RP, I feel as if I am in the purgatory of sight. I am neither sighted nor blind; I feel invisible, yet vulnerable all the time. I find that I either exhaust myself with the effort of trying to pass as a sighted person, or I become saturated with anxiety at the thought of having to explain RP. I usually give the short answer, ” It is like I am going blind from the outside in, as if the world is becoming a smaller and smaller tunnel of light as the disease takes its course.” But for now, I sit and wait in this purgatory.
I am a writer, going blind in Los Angeles. This blog is my story of a slow approach to darkness as I traverse through the rubble of urban life. It is what I see in the withering spaces of my remaining vision. It is humor and despair and darkness and light. It is what I witness as the world slowly disappears.
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