#after-images

The most annoying thing is it can make drawing and reading difficult because I’ll get after-images of text and lines whenever I move my line of sight. Lining in particular does this because I’m staring closely at bold lines against a light background.

I think it’s also worth mentioning that I can’t use a dark background with bright/white text because then the after-images become horrendous as the background is what gives me after-images, so it starts to bleed over the text. This has happened for as long as I’ve had visual snow-- the bad after-images in general have, but they just seem worse lately, and more easy to come by.

I can’t tell if it’s because of anxiety (which I’ve had a lot of lately), dry eyes, my eye-related tics that put pressure on my eyes, my wacky sleep schedule, a massive combination of all of these things, or something I should be more concerned about. I have a doctor’s appointment tomorrow so I want to bring it up to my doc, but god I’m so fucking scared of vision issues that this is really ramping up my anxiety.

So sorry for the late prompt for Luktober, but since it was Thanksgiving weekend, I don’t really regret missing out on a couple of days. Hope you all enjoy!

(A late) Luktober Prompt: Cemetery

After-Images

Leaves crunched underfoot as Luka made his way through the cemetery holding a handful of flowers. His shoulders relaxed as he took in the scent of damp soil, scented candles, and flowers. It was peaceful and quiet here – somehow hushing the sounds of the city even though there was nothing but a stone wall and a line of trees separating this place from the rest of Paris. Luka couldn’t understand why so many people found cemeteries creepy. Well. He supposed that he could; in concept, the idea of being surrounded by death and decay made for some truly scary movies. It was easy to picture a haunted place full of shadows and tragedy.

A place that reminds you at every turn that you could be next.

But, in reality, standing in a cemetery was no different than standing in a library. Sure, there was tragedy and melancholy, but it was more like the ache of knowing that, no matter how many times you visited, you would never and could never get to know every story in every book. That every story displayed on these grounds will feel incomplete because they are incomplete.

Because there are chapters missing.

Because you will never know how many chapters are missing.

Because, at best, all you ever knew was a rough, incomplete outline.  

But, like the sounds of the city, even that melancholy felt muted when all around there are graves filled with flowers and candles. When people are cleaning off their loved one’s tombstone so it will gleam in the sun. When there are visitors who come back each day, each week, each month, each year, trying to make sure that all the important stories they were lucky to know are memorized so they can be told and re-told again and again.

And with the sun warming his back, Luka finally reaches his destination and gently places his bouquet on the stone because his reasons are no different than that of the other visitors.

“I always was chasing after the image of you when you were alive.” Luka says with a fragile smile as he unclasps his guitar from his back and settles on the ground, “I guess it’s not too surprising that I’m still here, chasing the after-image of you.”

@lukacouffaineappreciationmonth