Blind

Hi, my name is Cecilia Rosalyn Ebony. I've survived 18 years of life, and hopefully many more to come. I was named by my Grandmother: Rosalyn Ebony before she passed away 2 years ago, quite tragic really, she passed of a brain hammer-age. 

I knew I was different since the day I was born, ward 7, floor 3 on the 6th of May 1990 at St Mary's Hospital at 5:45 a.m in a small town called Gander Valley near London. After a month of my birth I was taken to the hospital by my parents, as they were soon to find out I was not normal either. I was examined for several months; in other words poked and prodded until they got something out of me. I hadn't opened my eyes at all, and was taken into treatment at 1 and a half years of age, when I had not shown development of any senses as a normal child does. 

They diagnosed me with Synesthesia. A disease which consists of my 5 senses being altered and mixed up with and addition to my blindness. All mum and dad wanted was a normal, healthy, lively baby girl. As God has his ways they wound up with me. I know my mum and dad love me dearly though, they tell me and I feel it too.

You see, when I was around 6 years old, I knew i didn't just have a disease, I had a gift, or a curse depending on how you would see it. I was able to feel emotions, feel a vibe reflecting off each and every soul surrounding me. Even though I couldn't see colour, I could feel it seep into my very soul, through another person. I could figure out a person just by their presence in the same room as me, their emotions and intentions that would shine off them like a radiating, warm glow or a dark stinch of cruelty.

It's very hard to explain. 

Life is relatively difficult as a blind kid. My mother home schooled me until the age of 10, when I had insisted I wanted to go out, live, see people, feel people, feel the world. Now I go to a community disability school/college everyday, for not so normal people like me. They understand. My mum is the greatest person In the world, she loves me but worries way too much. That's just how mothers are right? My father finds it difficult sometimes. When he comes home I taste the disappoint flowing from him onto my tongue, so soul-achingly sour and harsh. He wanted a normal child, I would say he's much better at coping now.

All in all, my life is an everyday struggle for most, but I want to live it the most; and so I will.