A Bird Inside My Chest

I raise a bird inside my chest. I don’t know its size, color, or shape.

Some days, the bird flaps wildly, trying to escape. Other days, it stays quiet, as if asleep. When the bird flutters its wings, I lose control. I feel anxious and distressed. Sometimes it lasts for hours, sometimes for days. If it goes on too long, I lose my appetite and lie down in bed.

But when the bird suddenly becomes calm, as if it found a safe nest, I slowly get up and try to regain my strength.

Sometimes I calm the bird myself. Sometimes it quiets down on its own. But maybe… it's time to let it go. I want the bird to fly free, and I want to stop being shaken by it. I want peace. I wish I could pull it out and throw it away. But it’s not that easy to let go. Do I have to die to be free from this bird? Is that the only way for both of us to go our separate ways?

If death is the only answer, then I must accept this bird as part of me.

I should keep living, no matter how much noise it makes. Maybe the bird will get bored of me and fly away on its own if I stop reacting.

This is my challenge.

I had high eye pressure and often visited the eye clinic. After the exam, they told me to wait until my pressure went down. One day, the doctor said I needed surgery before glaucoma developed. So I had the surgery quickly. My father often had his eye pressure checked. My aunt started going blind when she was young. So I didn’t hesitate. She tried to get treatment in Germany with her daughter’s help,

but she still lost her vision in the end.

I asked the doctor,

"Did my eyes get worse from working, writing, or using the computer all the time?" He said it had nothing to do with those things — it’s just family history and the laser surgery was simple and the result looked good. But now, there’s a gray spot in my left eye that moves every time I move my eyes. It makes me dizzy and tense. I’m afraid to open my eyes.

“How can I live like this, if it never goes away?”

The bird in my chest flaps wildly again, driving me crazy. If I wear sunglasses and keep the room dark, it feels a little better. The doctor only says, 

“It’ll get better over time.”

But it’s already been more than two months.

Fine. Let the bird flap its wings.

At least I’m not blind like my aunt.

If I can’t send you away, then I’ll have to live with you. I whispered this to myself and tried to accept the bird as part of me.

Then, the gray spot started to fade and became less visible.

Was it because time really healed it, as the doctor said?

Or… was it because I finally accepted it as part of my body?