I'm reading Blindness, and at

I'm reading Blindness, and at the same time have been feeling that my once reknowned good eyesight is slowly become a little fuzzy. This happened to me a couple years ago but turned out to be a false alarm. It seems real this time. The book is good. I would like to write a book. Sometimes when I'm outside I get a headache because there's just so much space and things to see and vision, I think I'm going to need glasses. I think it would be very very sad to go blind. It's a symptom of our love for our lives, and for living, that we would be so heartbroken to not be able to see the things we see. Like people. And other things, I'm sure. But the sadness of going blind is such an infamous sadness that we discredit its power. If I went blind, I would have trouble articulating the sadness I felt because everyone would immediately agree, "Yeah, yeah, I would hate to be blind. It must be horrible," in their thoughts and nodding tearful frowns in their eyes. Please don't go blind, eyes, please don't go blind.