Midnight Reflections

I know it’s not a big deal. I know my life’s not over. I know there’s still so much I’m going to do. I know I’m young. I know I am loved and supported. I know I have my family. I know I’m going to move forward from this. 

I can’t help but be negative though. 

As my mom reminded me of booking an eye doctor appointment, I quickly reminded myself of the last time I went. 

“I want to refer you to an eye specialist.” 

I shit bricks the last time I went. I never did see that specialist. I was too scared. I was way too afraid of what they were going to tell me. What if my eyes were completely fucked?  

I got over the fear because I knew it was long overdue. I had to see the eye doctor. I had to make that appointment. 

I woke up bright and early, dreading this day. Today. What if something is still wrong with my eyes? What if whatever’s wrong with them got worse?  

It’s been about two years since I’ve gotten constantly made fun of by family members for being ‘blind.’  

What if? 

What if something was actually wrong with me and I wasn’t just stupidly tunnel vision? What if all those tests my family members did on my peripheral vision was a sign to get checked? 

I’m going to be okay.  

That’s all I could tell myself. 

I gulped down the fear of that not being true as the doctor took photos of the back of my eye. I waited with my mom in the lobby, cracking jokes, masking the fear in my eyes. The suspense of waiting for the doctor to finish doing her job was sickening. The silence was defeanening. At least my ears work fine. 

The door creaked open. You could hear a pin drop. She called my name. The temperature was cold but I felt my body begin to heat up. It was way too early for this. I needed coffee.  

As she explained that the veins in my eyes looked concerning due to the darkness in them, I felt my fingers begin to fidget with my rings.  

“You have a floater in your eye and it appears to be bleeding.” 

I should’ve went to see that specialist. I should’ve gotten checked sooner. I should’ve listened to my mommy.  

“I want to dilate your eyes so I can get a better look at them.” 

My mother gave me a discerning look. She knew she had to scold me into allowing the doctor to give me the eye drops. Eye drops that would blur my vision for four to five hours and take fifteen minutes to kick in.  

I had no choice but to let what felt like acid rain dilate my eyes.  

I walked around the store looking for better frames as I waited for the eye drops to begin blurring my vision and make me sensitive to lights.  

After what felt like eternity, I was called back in. I took a deep breath. It was exam and question time.  

I sat in a freezing cold rolling chair as the doctor begin looking deep into my retinas. I was asked about my night driving to which I was honest about. It’s not that hard to drive at night but I also can’t see sometimes. I can’t see well at night but I feel like when I’m driving I’m seriously locked in. I get too scared to let my eyes deceive me while I drive.  

Minutes felt like hours as I kept my elongating stare at the white wall. I was contemplating the question I knew I needed to ask. Did I even want to know? I knew I had to know in order to get through this. I have to put an end to this. I need my eyes. They’re one of five senses. 

“Do you have an idea on what it could be?” 

I did it. I asked the question I didn’t want an answer to. I didn’t want to hear it. I knew I had to though. I felt my heart skip a beat. I felt my stomach churn. I felt so nauseous I could’ve thrown up right there.  

I won’t say what the disease was. Just know it was a rare one that of course I just might have. There was only a couple things I heard. What were those things? I’ll tell you. 

“It’s hereditary.” 

Which one of my ancestors gave me this fuck ass disease? 

I shake.  

I choke on my words. I swallow my pride. I look over at my mommy.  

I’m just a baby. A baby whose mommy can’t save her this time. 

“There’s treatments you can do.” 

Please don’t. Don’t tell me. Don’t say it. My heart cannot bare it. My nerves can’t handle it. My future can’t accept it. 

“There’s no cure.” 

Why?  

Why is this happening to me? I’m only nineteen. I’m not even twenty yet. What do I do? I can’t do this. I can’t.  

“Am I too young to have this?” 

“It normally starts for people in their twenties.” 

“I’m not even twenty yet.” 

I felt the nausea really sink in. My heart began to ache like never before. I heard a soft mellow piano play in my head. I felt my body begin to stiffen up.  

“Can it result in total blindness?” 

I really don’t want to know anymore. I want so desperately to get up and leave. I want to run away. I want to roam free. I want to be a kid again. I want to go back in time. I want to- 

“Yes, overtime it can progressively get worse and result in permanent blindness but let’s not think about that right now.” 

How can I not think about it? You’re telling me the worst news of my life. You’re telling me I most likely wont ever be the same again. You’re telling me I wont be me. I won’t feel like myself.  

“Do you need a translator or can you translate for your mom?” 

Do I have to say it out loud? Do I have to admit it? Do I really have to repeat that my life is practically over? I will never be the same again. I have to tell the mother who gave me these eyes that they’re failing.  

“I can translate.” 

I don’t let the tears give in. I can’t. I have to stay brave. I have to stay strong. I can’t cry. I won’t cry. I just won’t.  

I’ve told my whole family. I just can’t seem to tell myself out loud.  

This is it. For the first time in my life, I feel so fucking weak. I am unstable. I am not okay. I am far from fine. I am losing my eyesight. I can’t pretend this time. I can’t pretend like I understand. I can’t pretend like everything is going to be fine. Though it’s not confirmed, the symptoms check out. I have every single symptom of this damn disease.  

Who do I have to speak to about if they can redo the prophecy?  

I feel so sick.  

I won’t see so many things. I haven’t seen the world just yet. I just started driving and now you’re telling me one day I just won’t be able to? That’s not fair.  

I probably won’t see my family age. I might not even see myself age. I just might lose my mind.  

I can’t have kids. I can’t pass down this genetic disease. I can’t be selfish. I could’ve been a good mother.  

I won’t live the same. Things will be different. I’m afraid.  

What if I can’t even see my own writings anymore? What if I can’t write one day? What if I can’t even read my own words?  

What if I end my 20s blind?  

I haven’t even begun my 20s. And now I might have to say goodbye to one of my senses? I’m not even old yet. I’m still a teenager. I’m still a baby. I’m still someone’s baby.  

I haven’t even gotten my degree yet.  

I just want my mommy. I want my big sisters. I want my dad. I want to see the whole world.  

No. 

I just want one more chance.  

Maybe I’m being dramatic. We’ll find out when I see an eye specialist. I just can’t help but feel like my walls have crashed down and suddenly I can’t breathe.  

Life has truly surprised me once again.  

This isn’t a dream. This is a real life nightmare.  And every time I wake up, this will forever be my reality.

Written August 29, 2025

-A