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Day Oee Hundred and Sixty-Four:  Will you still need me?

I dress nicely for a blind girl, or so I was told today, but I know a bunch of blind girls and they all know what they’re doing.  I love when people say that your senses are heightened when one is taken away. I joke about having sonic hearing, but in all honesty I don’t really have a better sense than any other, or atleast I don’t notice it much.

When I choose clothes for example I feel it and if its soft I choose it.  I also have a thing for sound.  Footsteps…  Footsteps are like dreams that I am awake for.  And smells, I mean really it’s hard for me not to notice things like bakery’s of the smell of just-wet pavement.  But the small tings, smell is linked closely to memory, and so things like fresh lavender soap or detergent or the smell of Ceara\s house right after it was painted for the first time all of these things are triggered by those soft things that happen once in a while.  Taste is the only sense that really doesn’t affect me much.  Yes, I’m a foody, but I don’t go around constantly talking about it.

Senses are so weird.  It’s like they are definitions or meanings of things.  Senses don’t exist without an explanation.  It’s like trying to describe the colour red to a blind person who’s never seen anything.  It’s harder than you think.  It’s like trying to define a word that is a name of soething, like Jessica.  It’s hard to define what or who I am by just my name (or I’d like to think so).  Senses are irrelevant without meaning.

Which makes them a whole lot less beautiful.  I like to think seeing the countryside in Dover for the first time (despite it being broken, pixilated and less detailed) was moving in an indescribeable way.  Or the feel of being in someone’s arms and hearing a heatbeat.  Or the sound of footsteps anywhere.  They provoke emotions and thoughts that are..well, indescribeable.  Senses, man, they get ya.

I don’t know why I thought to write about this.  I didn’t know what to write when I opened this I actually wrote a really crappy poem beforehand and now I’m thinking I would love to write a short one to sum this all up but sometimes the short ones don’t come out as nice.  I’ll end on this:  Appreciate what you’ve got because when you can’t see your phone anymore or you’ll never taste cheesecake again you’ll miss it, trust me.

Even if I can’t remember what it’s like to see through two eyes anymore.

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