I look but do not see

Another entry from YWS.com, this one is titled “I look but do not See.”

I sat there, watching nothing in particular, the noise of rain pit-pattering on the glass of the window. They said my eyes looked glazed over, like I was just coming off a high or something, but in truth, I was in the ecstacy of seeing the world for the first time. Through my eyes I’ve seen nothing but sky, endless, eternal, and always changing. Occassionally a cloud or two might come and disrupt the flow of light blue into dark, but rarely.  

It was during one of these occassions of my “being high” that I took a real drug to get high. I figured, I am already higher than most planes, seeing the sky because all it is is my world, for I have known nothing else. But someone offered me some strange item. I can never really see what is going on in the world, for my entirety is in the sky. But I could smell it, and I could sense the others there. So I tried it, I inhaled, when they directed me.  

The world I knew, the sky eternal, disappeared, and in its place a dreadful thing showed up. People, no, humans I learned, weren’t the prettiest things to look at, but I was finally able to match smells to specific things. I saw the world for the first time that day, and it wasn’t at all pretty.  

As my eyes intook all that was around me, while I was suppose to be getting “high”, I was in fact, getting “low”. The people moved not at all gracefully, and spoke differently than I remembered. Their voices didn’t match their bodies, or at least, the bodies I had given them in my head, for I have never actually seen them before. And the smell of the strange thing that was to get me “high” was horrible. So I stepped out of the room.  

And I watched my mother die at the hands of one of my “friends”, who was so high he couldn’t recognize my own mother. I couldn’t even recognize her, except for her screams. Red stuff that had the scent of blood dribbled down her head, midsection and flailing worm-like things I could tell were arms. Then she was silent, and breathed no more. And my friend walked away, calling out to someone I couldn’t see.  

“I’ve done as you asked, Daemon. Leave me alone now.”  

I’ve never heard of Daemon, and I couldn’t see anyone within sight, so I didn’t know what to think. My gaze went back to my mother, blood covering her face. I couldn’t tell what she looked like underneath all the red stuff, but the metallic smell was getting me sick. I refused to look away though. This was the first time I ever saw my mother. It was the last time I would ever be able to.  

That’s when I went to watch the rain. The police came and questioned everyone. They said that they really couldn’t tell I was “high”, because there wasn’t much to show physically that I was. Except my eyes. That glazed look that people get when they are in ecstacy, or when they are high.  

They don’t have a name for my disease, because no one else has ever had it. Blindness, at least to the present world, yet still clearly sane. And I was only blind as long as I didn’t take anything that could get me high.  

I didn’t really understand at the time what it meant for someone to die. I felt the hurt of my mom, because she was the only voice I knew throughout my entire life. Not hearing it scared me a lot. Someone is alway there, though, taking care of me. They teach me, help me to get “high” so I can see the world. There are only two things in the world that I want to see, and both are impossible, for some reason or other, for me to see.  

I want to see my mother, once more. But she is dead, and none of her personal items ever contained what they call a “photo”.  

I want to see my reflection, something I have never seen. But this is impossible, I found out, because all objects that allow me to see myself show nothing but air and the clothes I wear at the present. No, I cannot see myself, no matter how hard I look. My caretaker says that I look handsome and elegant, but I will never know.  

The mirrors show no reflection, the “photos” show no body, but I am always searching, hoping to see myself one day.


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