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I hate this thing. I mean, granted, it's not a girl's hairband like that LaForge guy had to wear in that television show from America. I still hate it. There was a reason I had lasik done when I was sixteen. I hated wearing glasses. And now, I'm stuck with this... this thing.People don't see me at all under here. I'm just 'that freak with the mask.' I might as well be a robot to them; they already think I'm insane. Take enough meds that contraindicate, and you'd be jacked in the head, too. Trust me. Everything I am now has come down to that goddamned piece of machinery I have to use to give me a modicum of the sight that red-headed puta ripped away from me.I can barely see any colour now, even with it. It's like looking at old black and white movies from a hundred years ago, or those photos that Grossman was always babbling on about. (Say anything about lemons, and I will smack you.) But... you know... I'd take it any day over losing my mind.Even my daughter is scared by this monstrosity. Oh, she doesn't know who she is. She just likes to steal my coffee, and think that Maya is her cousin, not her aunt. She offered once to channel my kitten for me, but I don't want Mia to see me like this. Well, that, and I couldn't bring myself to touch her. Just knowing that Pearl had been inside my kitten, grown there, safe from harm while I slept... It's a goddamned miracle, even if that Fey bitch decided to adopt her.So, I wake up every morning with my arm heavy from this tracking bracelet, and reach over for that hateful mask once more, to hide behind it, and face the world again. For my baby girl.