The Reason

We write for many different reasons. Probably, we have a specific reason, or reasons, for every text we create. I don’t suppose we pay particular attention to the many reasons to keep on writing. Yet, occasionally, we give it a thought.

I started at the young age of 9 because I was afraid of becoming blind. At such an early age, I might have mistaken myopia for blindness. Because of a silly incident, this very week I was reminded of that strange reason.

In general I worry with unwanted hair or even a simple shadow of hair. Besides my unthinkable long hair, I hate any other sort of hair. It’s esthetical and climatic. Happily, and despite the hair vitamins I swear for giving me some trouble I normally shouldn’t experience, I don’t have major hair issues.

Well, I was plucking my eyebrows (takes me 1 or 2 minutes of time maximum) when something distracted me and the diamond end of the tweezers hit my cornea. A couple of years ago I wouldn’t be worried at all, but at this stage I know someone who almost got blind because she hurt her cornea and bacteria from her contact lenses damaged her sight forever. Because I was scared of something identical happening to me, I put my contact lenses away for almost 2 weeks. Conclusion? My fears didn’t change a lot over the time.

Most of the things I do don’t have an apparent explanation. Writing is not one of them. Being introspective, I usually know why I write. This blog is where I take notes of things I don’t want to forget. In spite of many other important facts to remember this week, probably the persistent fear of becoming blind is the deepest I could have dug out.