Growing up, I had a secret. It wasn’t something I could explain to my friends, nor something that anyone would have guessed. My secret was that the world around me was a blur. By the time I entered first grade, I was already living with a significant prescription, but I didn’t know it yet. I thought everyone saw the world the way I did—shapes without detail, words on the chalkboard smudged into illegible streaks. I remember the first time I…
