[Salone]

Dear Hyposmia,

You're a fickle bitch. You've robbed me of a lot of senses and memories and overall positive experiences. Living with you makes it feel as if every smell or taste is attempted through thick gloves, and I can barely tell if something is supposed to have a smell or taste. Food is essentially warm mushy bricks and the excitement I have for sweets is just nostalgia standing in for actually tasting. Smells are essentially non existent. The last thing I can ever remember smelling is her perfume, and now she's gone. That's the last scent you left me with, you horrible thing. I can't smell people, and supposedly that's why it's hard to connect with others on a deeper emotional level. Perhaps it's my lack of maturity or some other explanation, but you've really neutered my ability to perceive things. Remember Brau Haus in Hot Springs? That first hot bite of the strongest goulash soup we ever had? It warmed us up and started an amazing history. Now that same bowl of soup is just warm tasteless muck. Herbs and spices are meaningless. Everything is just bland bricks, assuming bricks have no taste because I cannot freaking tell because of you.

What's more, no one takes you seriously. You're an unseen disability. A blind guy gets a cane, you can see him. You can take pity on him. A deaf guy, you pick up on that. But you say you cannot smell, or taste, and there's no pity. People somehow think it's a plus, like "Oh man, you can't smell insert bad thing here. You can't taste whatever vegetable I don't like!" No. No that's not how it works. No one congratulates a blind guy because he doesn't have to see an ugly person. Don't try to spin it in a positive way. You're not taken seriously by anyone because you have no visible signs, and that hurts me even more.

I can't cook, because of you. I can't tell when things are bad. I can't even cook for people or dates or anyone else coming over because I can't tell what I need to add. I can't tell if something needs seasoning. I can't tell if something is...well, you get the point. I can't. I end up eating the same simple canned goods and basic foods because everything else is simply not worth the effort if it's going to be warm chunky sludge.

You know, we got a scented candle for Christmas last year. It's been used once. Raspberry Lemonade. I didn't know that Raspberries or lemonade produced a smell. Especially the two combined. We're always so surprised when something supposedly has a smell. For the longest time, we thought all Starbursts were the same. Oh man, were we wrong.

I guess it brings some peace. I remember always wondering why people would exaggerate so much about how good something was, when it clearly had no taste going for it. No wonder we were picky about food, about what we ate, and how we relied more on texture than anything. I guess I know why now. It was you. It was all you.

The sad thing is, I can rid myself of you. If I'm lucky, you're not neurological or irreparable nerve damage, and you can be fixed. However, I will never have the money required to do it. So I'm stuck with you, knowing I can be rid of you so I can finally taste and smell again and actually experience everything I've wanted to, but never actually have the money to do it with. So yeah, thanks for that.

I'm out. Wish you were too.