Sometimes I'll catch myself in a thought about dizziness.

The kind when you feel stuck and have to hold the walls in your hallway fro support because your vision turns from light to nothing.

And you think 'this is it, this is the last time I'll see these blank walls' and then you'll think 'why did this have to be the last thing i see?'

After this happening so many times, I've come to think about what I want the last thing I want to see to be.

At first I thought about the beach.

I though about white sand and the orange blurred sun rise that fades to blue, matching the humming waves.

Then I thought about a rose.

I want to watch it slowly bloom open as dew slides down its peddles.

But then I felt selfish, because the third thing I thought of was my family.

I can imagine us cramped together after Christmas dinner in front of a camera, each of our cheeks burning from the strain of our up-curled lips.

And then I thought about a boy.

I am not allowed to call him my own because his touch belongs to a girl with soft palms that keep his in her grasp.

I still thought of him.

He was on the list of what I would want to be the last things my eyes met.

Why?

Because If a mother was going blind, she'd want to see her child.

And a Paster would want to see his church.

A teacher would want to see their students.

But I, still no one special on this Earth, had the audacity to think of you

(I have previously published this on Wattpad.com, my user is shutup_im_writing)