Reading Between the Blurs

I've carried this hunch with me for quite some time~ something unspoken, unconfirmed, but persistent. The signs were never subtle. E-books lose me after twenty minutes; the text swims, blurs, and my concentration slips. Even paperbacks demand a spotlight, literally. Without a bold, almost theatrical kind of lighting, my eyes ache as if they're punishing me for turning another page.

A year ago, I had them checked. The verdict? Astigmatism. No grade, no prescription. Just a vague reassurance to "monitor it" and so I did...by enduring. Quietly.

Today, I visited clinic again, this time as my mom's errand buddy-turned-patient. Since I was already there, I decided to finally face it. Another eye exam. Another chance at knowing. This time, it wasn't just astigmatism. My right eye now grade 100, the left at 75.

Disorienting. Almost like I was seasick without being at sea.

And now that the truth is staring back at me, ironically clearer than ever, I find myself stalling at the door of acceptance. I’m not ready to join the club of “people with glasses.” I don’t want to be that person squinting at signs or enlarging text on a screen. For the longest time, my 20/20 vision was a quiet little badge of honor. 

But at 33, I’m learning to bow a little. To admit that something small--- but significant ---has shifted.

Maybe this is what growing up really means: surrendering to the changes we can't negotiate, even if it means trading pride for clarity. HAHA /sugarquoted

Book Review: The Tattooist of Auschwitz: 9 Hours of Countless Tears

I didn’t mean to finish it in one sitting. But I did. It's just me, this book, and a growing knot in my chest for 9 hours straight!

Reading The Tattooist of Auschwitz was like holding someone’s pain in your hands. You want to look away, but you can’t. You owe it to them not to.

It follows Lale, a Slovakian Jew, who survives the camp by tattooing numbers on the arms of incoming prisoners. That alone is heavy. But through that job, he meets Gita. And somehow, in the middle of death and decay, something fragile and beautiful blooms.

Love.

Yes, love in Auschwitz. I know how strange that sounds. But I felt kilig. The stolen glances, the whispered promises, the desperate need to hold onto something human. It made my heart twist in two ways~one for the horror around them, and one for the quiet magic between them.

There were moments I had to stop reading just to breathe. Their fear felt too close. Their pain, too familiar. But what struck me most was their WILL. To survive. To believe. To love, against all odds.

Aside from learning more and more about tragic experiences during WWII, It was also a reminder of how strong people can be when they have something...or someone...to live for.

I don’t think I can read it again. It's too heartbreaking. But it’s the kind of story that lingers. The kind you carry long after the last page.

4.8/5. And all the tears I didn’t know I was still holding.

#SugarQuoted #thetattooistofauschwitz #BookReview