Ritual: Taking My Contacts Off At Night

THE GUILD PROMPT #2: RITUALS

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I peel them off. I pluck them off. Little plastic things on my eyes. My lover flinches. All of a sudden, my vision blurs. It’s a nice feeling, a beautiful feeling. Utter nothingness and a sort of quiet.

Pluck. It has an audible sound, perhaps only I get to hear. I switch and put my glasses on. I miss the blur.

Bad vision, it’s an interesting thing, isn’t it?

Four eyes.

It follows you everywhere. I can’t go to a spontaneous sleepover because I need my glasses, and my contacts. And solution.

I’ve definitely put them in water in a cup at an undisclosed location before, but whatever. It was uncomfortable the minute I popped them back in the next day.

Net-net: I will always wear contacts. Unless I get Laser surgery, but I kinda want to wear contacts forever because they keep me accountable.

I have to be responsible for my own sight! If that’s not a big responsibility, I don’t know what is. Keep in mind, I’m pretty blind. I can barely distinguish the number of fingers a foot from my face.

Rituals. What do they mean? I think of them as inherently pleasant, though I don’t know how pleasant putting on and taking my contacts off really is.

It’s something I do every day, no question, and it centers me in a way. That momentary blur manages to capture all of the stresses and worries and compulsions and reactions of a day into a single frame. A blurry one, but still.

It’s nice to be taken out of one’s body for a minute. It makes you think.

In terms of where I’m at with my contacts and this seemingly good relationship with my sense of inner discovery and analysis when at their whim,

Watch this space.