I feel a tear fall down my cheek as Metallica blasts through my headphones. I know I'm being melancholy, but honestly, I don't give a shit. All I can think about is how soon, I won't even be able to see tears or music notes or cats or dogs or puppies or glitter or ANYTHING for that matter, ever again. I start to sob, but I barely notice, all of my senses are currently overwhelmed with James Hetfield's voice and I don't even see my mother enter the room as I close my eyes and fall back onto my bed, where I'd been sitting for the past hour. Suddenly, my favorite song's only heard through one ear and my mom's voice is talking to me through the next. "Mom, I can't hear you.", I say, annoyed that she interrupted the chorus. I pause the audio recording and look over at her, "Magnus, this is the last time I'm telling you, it's time for your appointment.". Rolling my eyes, I sit up and reply, "We still have another half hour, mom." "Traffic takes fifteen minutes at least and paperwork takes more. At this rate, we'll have to postpone the whole thing!" "Sounds great to me.", I reply, hands gripping the sides of my headphones, about to pull them back to their proper position. She stops me, gently pulling them back down, around my neck, and I turn my head towards her yet again. "Magnus, I know this is hard for you, but you've got to listen to me. It's only gonna get worse if we don't find help, and that's exactly what we're doing. Why are you so unwilling to get help when you need it?!" "Because, mom. I'm going blind and nothings going to change that. Just let me die inside in peace.". At that point, I knew I'd crossed a line. My mom's sensitive, and I knew that, yet I still managed to hurt her feelings in the worst way possible. "I know that, Magnus, but I can't just watch this happen and keep being reminded that we didn't do anything about it. I at least want to know that we did everything we could.". I knew I was at the point of no return. I was going if I liked it or not, especially since I could see tears welling up along her waterline, and no matter how old you are, seeing your mom cry is the most terrifying experience ever. "Fine, but we're getting Chinese take-out on the way back.", I smirked. "Deal.", she confirmed before giving me a peck on the cheek and making her way back to the door. "And, by the way, put on something relatively nice. This person has a PhD, don't be an embarrassment.", she continued with a wink. I knew she was joking, but I still changed my shirt. A plaid button-up instead of a graphic t-shirt with an image of a cat riding a unicorn farting rainbows sounded like a reasonable improvement, and I rushed down the stairs and to my mom's car, whose horn was blaring as she grew impatient.
On our way to the clinic, I watched the flowery landscaping and colorful billboards go by, envious of every happy child that pointed in awe at the mountains on the horizon or tourist that was capturing that perfect photo. Soon enough, it'd all be gone forever, far, far away, in the depths of my mind, where all of my memories danced around, surrounded by color and cheer, unknowing of the darkness to come.