ABSTRACT
At ten, I was diagnosed with Stargardt disease. Of course I ’d known something was wrong with my eyes long before then, but I went to the ends of the earth to avoid telling anyone. I memorised all my books in advance so I could recite them when the teacher asked me to read aloud. I made excuses to walk close to the blackboard so I could quickly copy down whatever the teacher had written. I always sat in the front row at assemblies, not because I was especially eager, but so that I could see what was going on. As my sight worsened and time went on, it became increasingly difficult to maintain the illusion of normality I ’d so carefully curated.
