Groping for what cannot be touched
Like the man who, having lost his sight, moves to a new home.
He becomes familiar with the objects that surround him - learning their shape, their place, their function. But he cannot know them by these alone. Images of his former life cannot be forgotten, though he may often try. He imagines a darkness that is bearable because it never knew light, but imagination is not so easily turned to his own ends. The memories force themselves into his new world and demand their former places. He is certain that the bed on which he lies looks nothing like the phantasm he has unwillingly created, but finds rest impossible until he allows himself to see it. So the things that are his only comfort become his great torment as he gives them colors which he knows they are not in his broken mind.
He becomes familiar with the objects that surround him - learning their shape, their place, their function. But he cannot know them by these alone. Images of his former life cannot be forgotten, though he may often try. He imagines a darkness that is bearable because it never knew light, but imagination is not so easily turned to his own ends. The memories force themselves into his new world and demand their former places. He is certain that the bed on which he lies looks nothing like the phantasm he has unwillingly created, but finds rest impossible until he allows himself to see it. So the things that are his only comfort become his great torment as he gives them colors which he knows they are not in his broken mind.
and the deep crimson stain that grows, creeping across his sheets will not be seen by any other
posted by phil at 2:43 PM
2 Comments:
I almost feel like I shouldn't respond to this post, because I couldn't possibly have any clue of what you must have had to and now have to go through. Yet I feel that you DESERVE a response, even though it will inevitably be sorely lacking. I have had to reread this post multiple times and my eyes are filled with tears, because the pain with which it was written is so palpable. I think it is amazingly courageous to put those words out there, to let them be out there and not to keep them hidden to fester. You have undoubtedly seen and experienced things which humans were not created to experience or see. I can't imagine having to assimilate those kinds of things back into a world of cheerful oblivion and meaningless banter. But that other world you were living in is the perversion, not this one. In this world, there still is love, and hope and people who care about you. I know this is such an inadeqaute comment but I'm writing it with true intentions. Please tell that blinded man that he cannot stay all alone, by no means can he stay by himself, he needs other people to help him until he regains his sight.
umm, thanks...
I feel the need to clarify that that post was not meant to be autobiographical. It's hard to know exactly where to go from there because I can't honestly say that how you took it (as far as I can tell) and responded were completely off or out of left field. Certainly not what I was expecting however. An attempt to explain just how my post came about could go on a lot longer than the post itself without really doing much good as I'm not really clear on it myself.
So. I'll stick with thanks for reading, caring and responding.
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