The glasses that I’m wearing on my face right now have been my glasses for four years. They started my first full time job with me. They moved to New York and back with me. They have been there through several girls, and several apartments. And they got beat up the other night, just like me.
I think it was the first hit that caused me to lose them. I didn’t even try to find them or save them. I just took off running. I sort of figured that they were gone forever, actually. But after the ruckus had calmed down a little bit, I went out and find them, and there they were, sitting on the parking lot, broking and mangled. One lens was missing, the frame around where that lens had been was cracked, and the ear parts were all bent way out of proportion.
Still, I put them on, because being able to kind of see out of one eye is actually way better than not being able to see out of both eyes. After I got checked out by the EMT people, I was able to go searching more, and amazingly, in the dark, with my head battered and bruised, I was able to find the other lens. I don’t know that I’ve ever had a moment where I’ve been that happy with something so seemingly trivial.
The next day I glued and bent and twisted things around and got them to where they are okay. But not great. They don’t really fit right, and they are still obviously broken. So tonight I’m going to go get some new glasses.
I’m really sad about this, actually. I guess my mental state isn’t very good right now, but I feel like these glasses have been through hell with me, and they deserve better than to be cast aside. So I’m definitely going to keep them, as a memento to all that we’ve been through together, but of course there is a twinge of regret that it had to end like this.
But really, they are just glasses.