Reminiscent: A Collection

Environmentally Challenged

I lead by smell.

I lead by sound.

I lead by anything but the sight that everyone else is gifted with. Without knowing you (or seeing you, quite frankly), I know that you take all that you see for granted. It's not surprising, everyone does.

If I had such a skill, I would take in every moment without reserve. One thing you people try to describe to me time after time and something that time after time, I fail to grasp is color.

What it is, I can't say, but it does sound absolutely spectacular.
Now, don't get me wrong, I'd never really yearned for sight. I simply envy those who have it.

Okay, think of those stereotypical blind person story; they want nothing but to see and through some mean (surgery or a fairy's gift or their Uncle Carl to name a few), but only after going through some immeasurable hardships. Think of these and then totally forget all of them, because -by your own personal choice, please note- are not reading one of those. At all. I'm not blind. I just can't see.

Those large and rough things bother me. I'd always admired smooth and rounded corners. Those didn't hurt so much to run into.

"This is the right thing to do," I muttered to myself as the engine revved.

"This is the right thing to do," I growled, clawing my way up the pointy and jagged cliff face.

"This is the right thing to do!" I yelled, scraping the gravel from my palms.

"THIS IS THE RIGHT THING TO DO!" I screamed at the sky, hoping for someone to answer in return.

I repeated this over and over again, as if it justified my actions in any way. It may not have been absolutely the "right" thing to do, but it benefited me (and me alone), so how wrong could it really be?

Smooth the rough corners. Make everything rounded, safe, and babyproof. In a truly perfect world, all things natural will be converted over.

I'm not blind. I just can't see.