contemplate

Whenever she wakes up in the morning, she looks at her mobile and sees the time. When enough sleep is preserved, her eyes stay awake until it's time to shut them again for deep slumber. Every early hour of the day, the girl walks up to her window and stares outside. Sometimes she remains like that for a few seconds and it can go up to minutes, but never hours. She simply sits on the couch and watches the purple and pink sky, gradually forming a pretty shade of blue. When all was visible was coloured nothingness, she sighs and leaves, but if there were puffs of white clouds, or signs of the moon or rays peeping out, she stays.

Maybe sometimes the girl would bother stepping out the door with her camera, the sacred object that allows her to capture every vivid moment of a sunrise. Each one is different. There are never the same shaped clouds, the way beams sprinted from the great ball of fire varied, it always changes. And she would enjoy it all. The girl would tamper with buttons and lenses after every tens of clicks and nods of satisfaction. She may go as far as climbing up the ladder to the rooftop, because the buildings blocked that whispy cloud over there, or the palm trees quite destroyed the empty look she was aiming for. When she is done, she stares at the beauty she has managed to still, unlike the happy memories from her past.

When she goes to the park, empty cans and plastics litter the fresh cut grass. She puts away her camera and intends to dispose of them in the respected places, but she remembers the task of those obliged to do such activities. Instead of ringing the strap around her neck and hoisting black bulk on her small hands again, she blinks and stares at what is in front and not below her. There are miniature towers of wood, with vegetation growing out of the little windows. They were spread out along the vast green as if they would harm each other when brought into smaller perimeters. The girl observes as some would have bellies, or depriving of them, thus seemingly anorexic. She loves how the flowers are arranged so neatly in few areas but are of enough colour to form a small masterpiece and how the ripples on the lake are uniform and just the fact that traces of mankind are absent, most of the time. It is just her and the sky and the ground and the trees. Simple beauty so difficult to enrapture human hearts.

One day, she wakes up with the inability to see.

After tens to millions of repeated rubbing of her eyelids, she realises she is blind. The girl stumbles her way out of the covers, feels the walls and doors and obstacles with her vigorously trembling fingers and discovers her way to her comfort spot. The couch, an ordinary household essential, but meaningful. She gropes for the curtains and jerks them sideways, pleading and begging, but all she could perceive was black, just black. Like she was in a galaxy with no stars. She fears the consequences, so she holds back oceans of tears. Sitting there like a display mannequin, she wonders. She looks - although that verb may be hopeless from now on - outside, if that is even the right direction and shatters at the realisation that nature is no longer hers to admire.

It seems like eternity as she finally decides to stand up and attempt to walk to the door. The girl reaches for the handle and after grasping it, she takes a deep, long breath and blinks in her head. There should be many reasons for her to keep her eyesight, but destiny matter of factly chose the girl to lose it. She does not know why. Then she opens the door and tilts her head up, eyes curious at the sight - however, after an instant, she just knew - Like rain, that is just how life goes.

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LOL this is what people who overthink come up with. That should answer any possible questions you may have. Intended to make a "happy ending" but instead...