Synesthesia is a medical condition that means a person experiences stimulation of a separate sense when another sense is stimulated in reality. While I can’t presume to self diagnose, I do have a lot of instances in which my senses “overlap”. While these “overlaps” can and do occur for any of my senses, the predominant one is sight. If a person asks me how to spell “disappointed,” a furrowed brow and the word itself in a blurry, sad font appear in my mind’s eye. If someone mentions "The Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy"
, my mind shows me swirling galaxies, penguins, and talking cows. When I listen to the first two verses of “Lord Remember Me” by Ruthie Foster, cold rivers, spongy patches of moss, and images of running feet insinuate themselves…show more content… I see fresh, blank notebooks, sharp pencils, and my fingers tapping on my jumping leg, my nervous-excited energy spilling out. I see my dimples in the mirror and I see my teeth framed by soft, pink, looked-after lips. I see a clear, cloudless sky and a powder blue typewriter, blatantly quirky and willfully out of place, just as I was. All of these images represent who I was as I began my first year of high school. I was friendly, healthy, eager to learn, and desperate to distinguish myself from my peers and be noticed. I wanted to be different than anybody else, I wanted to be smarter than I was yesterday, and I was enamored with the possibilities I had ahead of…show more content… When I close my eyes, I see black scuffed boots and jeans slung low around my hips, habitual and worn-in. I see hastily scribbled ink from a dying pen and coffee stains on paper. I see scraped knuckles, and the lengths of fingers bruised a deep red. Instead of dimples and soft pink lips, I see undereye bags and cracked, bleeding lips that curve into a sardonic smirk. Instead of a typewriter, I see a record player, still out of place, but not for the same reasons. These images aren’t as friendly or as bright as the ones my freshman year evokes. These images show who I am now: less cheerful, more worn around the edges, less gullible, more cynical. My individuality is still there, but it isn’t for outward consumption. It simply exists as an impartial fact of life rather than an argument. My drive to learn is still there as well, but it isn’t simple eagerness anymore. It has transformed into hunger. I no longer want to know more, I need to know more. I’m not enamored with the possibilities ahead of me, I’m desperate for
