urbandruid

Mmkay...must pay livejournal again at some point. Did you know when your account expires now they automatically pare down your icons to three? So now I have my defautl Minerva icon, which I really need to change, and for some reason, Quidditch!Snape and my Jack Bristow icon. *shrug* Don't ask me why.

I can almost see again. Just not as well as I'd like. Of course. I'm thinking that these reading glasses aren't strong enough, but they're all I've got, and they're better than nothing.

I see the doc again tomorrow, and I think the swelling and stuff has calmed down enough so that he can check my vision, maybe do somthing for me in the way of a prescription. I'm almost sure said script woln't show up in time for school, but I'm trying not to think about it.

This is very strange. I feel close enough to normal that I sometimes forget anything is different- so I'll sit down to read for an hour or so, and when I look up, seemingly out of nowhere, here's this major headache. It's annoying, you know?

My biggest problem right now is that I can't write. I can read and I can type, but I'm still lacking in the ability to type, process what I've written visually, and go back over it the way I'm used to doing. Not to mention that there's no way I can write something all the way through in one sitting right now- I start to do too much, and then suddenly I've got to stop. Lose my place in my writing and can't find it again. I know; I've tried.

I have one line of an Alias story; that's all I've written in the fiction department for a week. I think I'm going through some kind of withdrawl.

It's possible I am losing my mind.

No, really.

I can't see, but I was suddenly hit this afternoon with the idea to redesign Shadow Dancer. Lunacy.

I probably will redesign it. But it's gonna have to wait.

For someone who could never see too well, it's amazing how much of my life is visual. I'm surrounded by familliar places, familliar things, and yet I'm struck by the idea that I don't know where I am. And if you can tell me what that means, we'll both know.

I can't write. The best I can do is this, bits of things that make little sense, or scrawling into my diary. I don't even know if any of it's legible; I sure as hell can't read it. I am doing better (I keep telling myself this) but I'm not up to reading my own handwriting. Which is bad in the best of times.

But I can't write. Not really. And it's so easy with that to just give in to dispair or rage, because nobody told me it would be like this, nobody did! And I know I didn't tell them- they don't understand. But how do you explain to someone who you are? I sit here and I want to scream and weep and throw things, put my fist through the wall or the computer screen or even possibly my eye doctor.

I'm getting better. Every day it's a little better, but it's hardly enough. It's so damn frustrating- and frustrating is really just a word, it's not enough anymore. I just want my life back, not a small tiny piece at a time, but all at once. Instead I get- this.

So tomorrow I take another step. It's all I can do, really.