- SCULIAX
Name
- Bly
A descendant name of Bligr, meaning "to gaze"
Gender
- Male
Why does he dislike being blind?
- Are you kidding me? Have you ever tried to work an apple product, with its touch screen, being blind? Try and skype with your friends, being blind? Type out an email, being blind? Well, it's difficult. See, Bly feels like he's always a few steps behind everyone else, both metaphorically, and physically. He can't keep up in this fast-moving world. Sure, he does well on his own, but he feels so restricted by his inability to see. Socializing from long distances is nearly impossible, and when he was a child playing follow the leader... The point is, Bly struggles to keep up with his friends, and everything else around him, and he does not like that.
He also hears about colours, and he hears things described, and then.... he doesn't understand. The wonders of the world are a fable to him, and because of this, he's treated like he's pretty dang stupid. Sure, he's not as bright as others, but he really doesn't appreciate being treated like he's stupid. He doesn't know what he looks like, and he never knew what his girlfriends ever looked like. Handing out complements is difficult, and analogies and comaprisons just don't work...
Theme Song
- New Perspective ~ Panic! At The Disco
Story
- When you're blind, what do you see?
Nothing. No, it's not black, and it's certainly not white, it's not dark, and it's not light. It's some odd little grey area in-between, though I can't really describe it to all you who've seen. I hear about orange and yellow, blue and green, but I honestly don't know what you mean. All of you out there with your fancy devices and your sure footing, while I'm trying to keep up with the times without even looking. I have to feel where my feet are, and I don't know where I'm going after not very far.
It is in this endless expanse of a grey, that I must stay; and only hear fables since I was a baby in a cradle.
Most would think that all the blind see is black, and in fact, if you've gone bllind after seeing, that's the cold, stony truth. If you're born blind, however, what do you really see? Nothing is a concept far beyond the human brain, it's just unimaginable, and that's about as close as we can get. There has to be something that they see. Black? White? Light? Dark?
Is it different with every person?
I didn't know that I was irregular until I found out about colours.
It was warm, I felt the heat through my fur, and I felt the ground beneath my feet. It felt as if grass had just covered the ground, like snow would voer winter. I took a deep breath in, and ran. Not sure where, not sure how far, but I did know that I was frustrated. I didn't know what. I kept running, feeling the blood rushing in my ears and my pulse racing along with me eased my frustration, until I tripped over my own tail and faceplanted into the dirt. A thought flashed in my mind, and it was Green.That's all, just one word: green. As if the idea had been hardwired into my being, but kept just tantalizingly out of reach. I grasped the thought, and held onto it. Green... I pondered that word, still lying in the grass. The grass is green I thought, and felt sure that I was correct. The grass is green, the trees are green. I am not green. Those three ideas, things, thoughts, echoed around in my head as I pondered them for a while. Then another idea popped into my head Everyone else knows green, everyones can see green. I was different. Not the same. I felt the grass, but I could feel green. I smelled the grass, and I could smell green. Were there more colours?
And on that perfectly ordinary morning, when most people were eating breakfast, showering, just waking up. When the sun had rose to a ten-o-clock-ish position, I had discovered green, and my search began.
Honestly, I wasn't even aware that I had begun a search, until a while later, when I felt myself brushing against a few leaves, and hearing the buzzing of the bees, and I felt a flower beneath my foot, and I bent to pick it up, another thought occurred to me, Orange. I turned my head down to the ground, where I had felt the flower, This flower is orange. I bent down, and picked it up.
My days went on, and dragged along, until I had found yet another colour. Yellow. then Brown. then red and blue on to purple, and, well, you know how the story goes. In fact, I imagined these colours, all of these countless pigments that covered everything that I couldn't see. I'd get angry, and I'd run, and I'd fall, and I'd remember. I'd remember green, that peaceful, Saturday morning, when I embarked on an adventure that I didn't even sign up for.
And I found out what I saw, every second of every day. It was neither dark, nor light, black, or wite, dull or bright, it was somehting in-between. And odd, little between-the-lines colour. And endless expanse of grey, more or less. It was grey, it wasn't nothing, I couldn't see anything, but I didn't see nothing. I see grey...
That day was the first day my life started, and the last day my adventure ended.
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