“Real Eyes. Realize. Real Lies”

I have this one new friend. She is special. I mean, more than special. She might be unable to see this colorful world with her own eyes, but her mind and attitude show that she sees this world better than I do. She was not born blind. It was started six years ago. Can you imagine that? After all this time you got chance to see what this world look like then one day you woke up and everything was dark. Completely dark. Once I asked her how many percentage left of her sight? She replied, “No percentage, Annisa. Zero.”


To be fair, she has every reasons to be depressed, yet she told me a simple statement that slapped me quite hard, “Annisa, if I wanted to be depressed, of course I could be. But being depressed is a choice, depression is like an elastic thing that you can stretch really far. But I did not choose that. Therefore I am here.”

Oh, and she is one of the smartest girl I knew. The master study she is doing currently, is apparently her second master. She is intensely passionate about her subject which I found quite heavy and deep. Even more, she is not only academically outstanding but she has enthusiasm for music too! A good occasional singer back in her country 😀

We have one favorite topic to talk about. It is about the way she is using her imagination as a tool to translate her surroundings. One of my favorite is everytime she automatically associates people with things. When she speaks to someone, she feels and listens carefully to the details, such as their intonation, tone of voice, their body move (based on breeze they made), breath sound, etc.  For instance, if she speaks to a girl who is very feminine, soft, and lady like, she imagines her as a nice flower which blown by the wind. Some other time, she talked to another guy friend then she told me that in her imagination he was a big tall tree 🙂 Somehow I can relate to this kind of imagination play since I do it too randomly. Like I have some friends whom I remembered as bird-face lady, snaps-fingers girl, and cactus-guy :p

Another thing that caught me up was when she said that everyone has their own special smell. HA! I am totally agree to that. What we meant by smell here is not something came out from perfume, cologne, or such stuff but it is like one’s original smell. For example, according to my friend, her father smells like a rusty machine or carbon monoxide, while me.. I think my mom she smells like herbs mixed with soap. Hihihi.. I am very sensitive to smells / odors because it triggers memory stronger than any photo or video. Through visual things like that, usually I was only reminded about the description of each moment. But through specific smell, it’s like I was reminded not only about the moment’s description but also about how I feel at that very moment. For instance, everytime I smell a wet-painted stuff, it brings me back to 15 years ago when I regularly moved from one school to another for NINE times in ten straight years. I remember how sad I was at that time, psychologically crushed, no self-esteem at all. It smells like new place, new home, and I was too tired to adapt. So for me, wet-painted stuff is associated with sadness, sorrow and depression. Hahaha does that sound strange?

So the point is, this new friend really brings new joy to me. She showed me many things I have not seen before with wide-open eyes. I might help her to describe colors of flowers in a garden, but she helps me to describe colors of people’s personality. I might help her to stay safe along the road to city center, but again, she helps me to stay sane along this academic journey (and forward).

So, I am not writing this as a gooey sad thing for people to take a pity. I am writing this to remind myself, to remind anyone who reads this post that shame to us who easily complains about every single little thing which inconvenient and for being unbearable whiny while at the same time we have complete healthy organ to function 😦


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