Life as a work of Art.

I can't see. I think I'm literally blind in a sense. If detached from a device it will only take moments before eye lose focus. I think it's been this way for at least four years now. I fear I cannot take it any longer. I've become secluded and conspiratorial. I'm not sure that anyone has been able to notice a difference though. I hardly recognize anyone. I don't feel attached to anything. I frustrate easily, although still manage myself better than the average person externally. I imagine myself, on a daily basis not reaching my potential. There's a divine reasoning that I'm here, I hope. My thoughts sway to the possiblity that I may never be able to interface with the world as I once could. Yet I do encounter a sense of wonder on occasion that keeps me comfort. I've been born at the dusk of some spiritual apocalypse. We can catch traces of what once was through media, architecture, perhaps even epigenetics. Yet the rot continues. I think now that there a lot of people that feel a similar way. Yet we are too poorly connected to surmount to something. 

By the end of this year I will have achieved what there is to be fixed if anything is possible. This emotional constipation will end. I am twenty years old. My jaw's crookedness reflects an imblance. All can be foretold through physiognimy. I do think so. It's as though I fade in and out of consciousness. I think leaving the smog of santiago will have to correspond with my own return to the world. It must. My body will be awesome by then. Of course it is my mind that I really want back. 

I try to measure my capabilities as a child with those of now. Am I really weaker, or just coping with my mediocrity. It's undoubtable that I have lost parts of myself. My memory is not what it ever was. So there is something to be said for certain. But how much! The gastrointestinal issues were indeed there ages ago. Was my timidness in pre-k the same issue--Am I still confronting the demons of my 4 year old self? Is this outer w0rld so uncomfortable to me still, that I am only able to regain my lucidity in the escpae of a screen? Or can my conspiratiorial self celebrate in some possibilty that this is by design! Help Me! 

I believe that 10 years from now I can be great. I believe in destiny I really think I do. As a schoolboy I told myself stories of greatness. Affirmations that I would lead men in pursuit of glory regardless of the cause. It's seeming to me that my intuitions in the past were true, only I was surpressing them! I am on the path back.