I was cleaning up my google drive and found this little entry. Based on the first paragraph, I assume this must have been written around the time I lost my iPod. I used to journal a lot on my iPod, but that because impractical (or impossible, really) after I lost my iPod. Anyhow, this journal seemed to have been written on January 27th, 2017, almost a year ago. Here it is:







This is the only app I have on me right now that doesn’t limit my word count, doesn’t require an internet connection, doesn’t sync to some online storage cloud unnecessarily (I think?), and autosaves.

Rambles on Glasses, Reality, and Sky

Reality. Pretending it doesn’t really exist makes it easier for me to talk of it. Pretending it doesn’t really exist makes it easier for me to excuse myself for not making much sense. Consider this block of words as a disclaimer.

I don’t believe in reality if seeing is believing. The moment I remove my glasses, reality disappears. It’s like… hm…

This metal frame rests on my ears and on the ridge of my nose. Two glass lenses, precisely shaped for my unideal eyes, adjusted precisely, precisely made only for me so that I may see, thank science, the reality of the world in all its precise clarity.

I can look up. I can look left, right. I don’t see much when I look down, and I look silly when I do, but I can look down. Ask me to prove it and I’ll prove it, sure.

Bordering along my peripheral is a world beyond precision. My world. Lucia’s world.

But looking way up, way down, way left, and way right is a recipe to lose myself. The right way is the way forward.

But forward brings me back

to the oh so carefully crafted world through these oh so precisely manmade lenses.

But I am not precise. My inability to be precise makes me wonder if precision is meant to be at all. If not, I’m sure there’s never any harm in taking off my glasses. Just like that, reality disappears just like I just said.

Blurred lines and smudged colours. This is where I live. Here there are monsters at every corner, waiting and watching like midday shadows. Here is not somewhere you can find an escape because, dear reader, here is the escape. Lucia’s world.

Come closer. I’m near sighted, y’see? Closer. Closer. Count the pixels in the period of this sentence. Too close now, but I don’t mind. I like close sometimes.

When things are close, my reality overlaps with the reality. The truth of the real world is available to me only centimetres before my face. Not everything can exist mere centimetres before my face.

There’s at least one thing that remains constant to me with or without my glasses and that one thing is the sky.

Sometimes.

On a clear blue day, yes. On a cloudless night, yes.

The day and night are not always clear. They don’t have to be. It’s easier to appreciate the sometimes.

Sometimes, I think I love the sometimes. Sometimes, I wish for an always, a forever, but that would kill the sometimes that I sometimes think I love.

But clouds exists and clouds will always exist. A flock of birds or a flock of fighter jets can always fly across the sky so maybe I can say that a clear sky will never always exist and I get to keep my sometimes forever.