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Stories From the Edge of Blindness

In 2002, Retinitis Pigmentosa changed my life. This is my story of a slow approach to darkness.

Tag

aging

Palatable

In my middle aged face, I see both echoes of youth and glimpses of what I will be as an old woman, but my reflection today is muddled. I am unrecognisable. My eyes grow cloudy with the passing of days and the shape of my jaw takes on the weight of decades steeped in grief. I can no longer turn the odd curves of my face into something palatable. My features change with the seasons, grow heavy with the stress of caring for loved ones, watching them die. One day I will be the whisper of a wraith, but today I am clay moulded by the hands of time, prisoner to the piercing fingers of the clock. What was colourful is now grey, no green pastures on the other side. I am aching bones and sallow skin and  scars born of an unwelcome wisdom. I am creaking knees and pain so sharp, it wakes me from sleep, although my sleep is shallow now, plucked from my grasp by hormones that betray me, fill me with fire and sadness and anger, all without roots or reason. I am a farce of time, a perpetual act of coming unhinged. I am middle aged. I am invisible.

Short Essay in The Furious Gazelle

I am super excited that one of my short essays came out in The Furious Gazelle today.  They have accepted a second one that will appear in January of next year!!!!

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