What’s a crutch?
I took one set of photos with my naked eye. A quick word with an individual like me, and you’ll understand I’m embarrassed by my glasses. It strikes me odd that I’ve felt this way, but alas it remains. It could be the fact I didn’t like standing out already, the only black kid for miles. Maybe it’d be my mother’s insistence on a school uniform to school every day. The other, I took with my glasses on, myopia corrected.
Which images are better?
I generally dislike the opinion that glasses make one inferior, or its association with weakness, as I’m certain, neither you nor I are not. But it’s nagged me for quite some time, inspiring the bold omission in my life. A more honest talk with myself reveals I had glasses that I lost, found, broke, and lost. A series of unfortunate events I’m certain was no doubt influenced by this indolent thinking.
Do my glasses limit me?
I believe that a lot of the strife I’ve struggled, whether it be the impulsive online purchases, or computer game marathons, perhaps the literary works consumed, indeed the artistic impulses answered, originates from my thinking. I reckon that my transformation isn’t some dramatic metamorphosis, but the moment I flip a negative thought into a positive challenge. A sincere exchange will elucidate that I hate to lose.
I’ll be the judge of that.
