therapy

» disabled

"Would you rather lose your hearing or your sight?" I asked curiously.

"I don't know. Each is so precious to experiencing life. If I lost my sight, I wouldn't be able to see the colors that spin around the skies and the flutter of the trees. I wouldn't be able to capture anything or see how you or anyone looks like. I wouldn't be able to see the way my smile curves when I figure out I finally did something right. I wouldn't see how the tiny squirrel climbs the tree in a blink of an eye. If I lost my hearing, I wouldn't experience the melodies that vibrate in the air, trickled by the harmonious voices that summon new emotions to be alive and old ones to awaken. I wouldn't hear the first cry of my child. I wouldn't hear the happiness that rings from the splash of the water on a hot summer day. I don't know. You?" She shrugged her shoulders.

"I don't know too. I feel like if I did lose one of them, I'd try to not feel disabled. We always put a disabled label on humans who just can't do something the same way as we can. Would life be different if we didn't have legs? And if we didn't have legs, would we still think it's disabled because we wouldn't even know the feeling of walking? We'd swim and roam the oceans, maybe. We would look at the world from a new perspective, sign light upon animals who see the world as a galaxy itself. I just hope that I never get to lose my sense of being a human."