I told myself that I was making myself blind.
Or rather,
reminded.
I stare into the sun,
taunt the misuse of bleach,
use perscriptions when none are perscribed,
and utmost of all... I don't take my vitamins.
(I'm such a bad kid.)
I'm doing it purposefully.
Or rather, not.
Because that makes it sound like blindness has a purpose.
I remember specifically,
one dreary, drizzly, lonely afternoon
(my scalp would fester and burn)
and as my eyes began to sting,
I thought:
Would I think I was more beautiful if I couldn't see myself?
If I couldn't even fathom a comparison?
Ironically,
The propelling idea behind this gregorian torture.
Is
vanity.















Comments