I envy you. I envy all the people with the gift of sight. Not because I am blind. That will not be sufficing in itself.
But because all of you can see me when I can’t.
The laws of human anatomy have bereft me of the ability to see myself. The redness of my cheeks when I receive a compliment. The sparkle in my eyes when watching the sun play crimson with the sky. The fluttering of my eye lids on a beautiful para in the novel nearby. The innocence on my face when I lay curled up oblivious of the world. The naughtiness in my irises when I suppress a laughter. Nothing, I can see!
And what has been given to lull my rant like a toy given to a baby to cease the tears? Hah! I have been given mirrors and snapshots of moments gone, which only tell me what I look like. But never tell me how beautiful I look in the moments of present, in the moments I live.
I envy you for being able to see ‘me’!