My eye doctor didn’t believe me. Though the nurse had done the test less than 10 minutes before, he did it again. He wanted to determine for himself, see with his own eyes, that I was colorblind.
It’s a hereditary trait on my dad’s side of the family. In fact, my dad has it too. The reason why my eye doctor wanted to be so sure was mainly because colorblindness is extremely rare in girls. That’s what he told me, anyway.
Sometimes I can’t tell the difference between green and brown, blue and purple, green and yellow, red and brown, grey and green. They’re those in-between shades; The ones that border on another, those ambiguous colors.
I don’t see black and white. Well I can see black and white, but that’s not all I see. There was a kid in my high school like that. Could you imagine your waking life appearing like a 1950s sitcom and having no reference point that in fact it does?
Sometimes when I look up at the sky, I wonder if I’m missing out somehow. I wonder if the blue is more blue to someone else and I’ll just never know what that looks like. And even though this thought practically kills me, I think I’ve gotten used to it. Because at least I have eyes. At least I have eyes that work.
So if you can see the number in the colors, remember there are others who just can’t. All we see are tiny, different-sized circles. We try to make sense of them, to connect bubbles and find a pattern. Blankly staring, thirstily drinking, trying so hard we’re practically drowning. Scanning it over and over, darting back and forth, up and down, blubbering out “ums” and “ahs”, trying to fake it so the doctor won’t see there’s something wrong.
And we are the flawed (or so they say). We experience life in a dimmer light, perhaps. We won’t be able to fly planes, and it may be difficult to coordinate clothes and accessories, our blue sky might end up purple if we paint it without looking at the label.
But what else is there to do but go on? We have to live in the world and say yes to who we are, even if it doesn’t add up to our perfectionist ideals.
That’s what I keep telling myself.