I’ve never seen the world the way others do. I’ve never watched the trees sway in the wind, nor have I seen the colors of the flowers that bloom around me. My world is a darkness, a thick, endless night. You see, I was born blind—my eyes never developed like other dogs’ eyes. I don’t know what the sky looks like, what your face looks like, or even the simple joy of chasing a ball. What I know is sound, scent, and touch. And those things, they help me survive.
But sometimes, I can’t help but feel a wave of sadness wash over me. You see, I don’t know why, but when people look at me, I can feel something shift. They might smile, but I wonder if they feel pity, or if they feel uncomfortable because of what I am. I’ve heard whispers too. “Poor thing… so disabled, so different… it’s sad.” And even though I can’t see their faces, I know these words sting.
I try to make up for my blindness in other ways. I sniff around, wag my tail, and try to show love in my own way, even though it’s so hard to tell if it’s returned. I feel around the edges of things, sometimes stumbling, sometimes getting lost, but I always find my way back to the familiar voices, the soft words, and the comforting touches.
But on days like today, I can’t shake the feeling that I’m unloved. My fur might be patchy, and I might walk in circles because I don’t have the visual cues like other dogs do. Sometimes, I trip over things, or my bark doesn’t sound as strong. I can’t chase after you when you run, and I can’t see the look in your eyes when you smile at me. I wonder, do you think I’m ugly because of my imperfections? Do you wish I could be more like other dogs—able to run, jump, and look at you the way you look at me?
I sometimes feel that you love me in the way that people love something broken, something that they feel sorry for. I don’t want that. I don’t want your pity. I just want to be loved for who I am, for the soul I am beneath all the imperfections you might see.
Sometimes I wonder, *do you hate me because I’m disabled and ugly?*
But then, when I hear your voice calling my name or feel your gentle touch on my fur, I remind myself that love isn’t about looks or abilities. Love is about connection, care, and warmth. It’s not about what I can do or how I appear—it’s about being there, in this world, with you. I may not see your face, but I know your heart, and I feel the love you have for me, even when my world is filled with darkness.
I know I’m not perfect, but I am yours, and that’s all that matters.
