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colorful-just1c3:

“I’ve always viewed it as a gift! Why look on the dark side when the light smells so much better? And if you are as determined to prove yourself as you seem to be, then maybe looking at things my way would help you! Most people wouldn’t think I was blind if I didn’t have my cane! Try relying on other things, hehehehe! It’s a good experiment!”

>You are well aware that almost every blindness-inducing incident is relatively the same, emotion wise. You scream, you cry, everything spins out of control and you’re struggling and grasping for it, but it just keeps slipping through your fingers. You can’t hold onto it, and everything is just starting to fall apart when it truly hits you. You lie to this girl when you say it was always a gift, when for quite some time you viewed it as she does.

A curse. A problem with no solution. An infinite wall that you will never be able to scale, and for which you cannot locate the secret door around. It destroys everything you have worked for, and everyone you have tried so hard to love.

Can you still remember their faces? Is all as it was when you shut your eyes, revealing the same darkness you’ve looked into for so many years now…? What did father look like? What was the dress your mother wore to the hospital? What was the look on Karkat’s face when he cried for the first time in your friendship? Your aunts, your uncles, that snake you had once had, can you remember?

How do you remember?

“Of course it isn’t! The pursuit of justice is a meddlesome one! You must be prepared for everything! One small slip-up could destroy the whole operation; collapse it at the base! Everything must be in order, and everything must be based upon facts and truth! Lies smell disgusting, Miss Lalonde, remember that! Hehehe”

>You listen to her run her fingers through the grass, and perhaps she’s understanding it now? Only slightly, but everything must begin somewhere, with baby steps, as all things do. You are aware her senses must develop to this newer concept. 

She also speaks to say the big thiings are the things that matter, but you beg to differ. The little details are what make things so astonishing! Without the little things, there could be no big things! The tiniest cells create the greatest of creatures, but without those cells, there is nothing. No life, no foundation, no air, nothing.

“Exactly! Anything else? What else can you feel? It’s all needed to understand, you know! You must be able to pick out the little things to understand the bigger ones! There is no big thing without small things to build upon!”

>You shift a little in the cold grass, turning onto your side some so the backs of your legs would stop tingling with numbness.

“Hehehehe~ There aren’t many blind people about in a college, you know! I think I’m lucky I’m in here with my friends, and not somewhere else! It’s nice to know there’s someone else nearby who sees like I do, in a sense~ You should come around here more often!”

Without my cane?  Terezi, my hearing is good, but it isn’t preternatural.  My cane is what I use to ensure that what I’m hearing reflects the environment around me, and in addition, I’ve somewhat learned how to use the taps to give me information about the environment. I’ve taken a few seminars on human echolocation, and while I’d hardly call myself proficient, I won’t say that they haven’t helped at all.

You know that it’s a dependence, but it’s a dependence that you can handle, it’s one that’s still within your control to a certain degree, like a prosthetic replacing just enough of your sight that you can trust yourself not to run into anything.

You remember when you were first given the cane to use, when you were first taught to walk again.  The frustration, the anger, and the resentment over the fact that this was all you’d have for the rest of your life.  The resentment, in time, had faded into resignation, and now, behind the scenes, it was clear to you that you were limited, that you were broken, as much as it hurt to admit.  But that’s why you pushed yourself so hard, because as long as you succeeded, you wouldn’t have to deal with that aspect of it, and when you failed you had an excuse.

That makes you feel dirty, but it’s better than the alternative of “coming out” with it. Of being Rose Lalonde, blind.  Of being the girl who doesn’t know what any of her friends look like except the three that she met long ago.  Of being the girl who can’t drive herself, of being the girl who can’t recognize anyone’s even there until they make a sound, of being the girl who can’t.  You want to not be blind and just be the girl who can, who can do anything she wants, but those doors are shut.  They’re shut and they will be forever, barring some huge advancement in cyberprosthetics.

Does the concept of “art” mean nothing to you?  I think you’ll find that in the wide world, facts and truth are just one of a myriad portrait of massive proportions, shades of grey that are hidden from most for the sake of convenience.  And here I thought that you were the visual one, Pyrope.  Am I the one seeing these colors instead of you?

You feel the grass, letting your fingertips touch the dirt below, and move further, going deeper into your understanding of this simple patch of sod, pushing the limits of what you could deduct.  You felt almost like Sherlock Holmes.

It rained two or three days ago, because the dirt, while not wet, still retains a little moisture.  The weeds imply that nobody is taking care of the grass, and while it’s uncut, it’s still somewhat short, meaning that somebody planted it only a few years ago.  With that knowledge, one can deduct that the park is probably relatively new, but that a change of ownership or abandonment of the lot led to a relatively recent reappropriation by the city, after which it became a park.  What can you tell, Terezi?

In any case, I would argue the converse; the little things need foundations off of which to build, which are the great overarching themes to all things, and are the largest and broadest.

You rub your eyes a little bit.  The brief thought crosses your mind that it’s annoying that somehow your eyes should still itch even after they stop working.

Hmm.  I didn’t know anyone here from before coming to the college, so all of my acquaintances are brand new.  I’ve made good friends here, though.

But maybe I will come here more often, if you do the same.