Question Everything
Way back when I wrote my learner’s licence test, things worked differently: you first wrote the exam, and then you did your eye test. I remember sitting down for the eye test, relieved that I had passed, only for the instructor to look at me with a seriousness I didn’t expect. “I’m sorry… I can’t give you your licence.” I felt my stomach drop. “Why?” “Because you cannot see.” I was seventeen when I learned that I had been walking around in a world I couldn’t see clearly. I still remember putting on my first pair of glasses and staring at the trees outside. I stood there completely still because for the first time in my life, I could make out individual leaves. I had genuinely believed everyone saw trees the way I did: soft green smudges. It never once occurred to me that my “normal” wasn’t actually normal. ...