A Package of Fate
A package sits at my doorstep, quiet and unassuming, like a messenger of fate. I pick it up, my heart fluttering with the desperate hope that someone, anyone, has finally sent me a surprise gift. My excitement crashes the second I see the label—sponsored product. Damn.
Still, I tear it open with the enthusiasm of a starving raccoon. As I pull out the box, I do what I always do—scan the words and skim through the details. And then… I stop.
I squint.
I blink.
I squint harder.
Why the hell can’t I read this?!
Panic rises in my chest like bad seafood. My entire life, my vision has been perfect—no glasses, no contacts, no late-night regrets about laser surgery. While my peers stumble through life with fogged-up lenses, I have basked in the glory of unassisted 20/20 vision—until now.
I stare at the box, betrayal seeping into my bones. My eyes, my loyal companions, my undefeated warriors against digital strain, are turning on me. Is this the end of my reign? The moment I become…one of them?
A Look Back: The Glasses Era I’ve Erased From My Memory
But wait—this isn’t my first war with my eyeballs. Once upon a time, I wore glasses. The kind that are so thick they could double as NASA-grade telescopes.
Was it farsightedness? Amblyopia? Who knows? All I know is, as a kid, those glasses made me look like one of those stereotypical smart Asian kids—except I was far from it. I couldn’t even do basic math. I was out here struggling with 2+2 while my peers were out-calculating computers.
My saint of a mother took one look at me, sighed deeply, and decided she wasn’t about to let her kid be doomed to a life of Coke bottle lenses. Every. Single. Day. She trained my eyes with a sticker on a ruler, like a Tiger Mom but with love. And just like that, through sheer willpower, patience, and what I can only describe as motherly magic, she cured me. Glasses? A thing of the past. Perfect vision? Restored. I was free.
Or so I thought.
Unboxing: A Journey Through Denial, Despair, and Delirium
I tear open the box as if it holds the key to life. Inside, there is a tiny elegant bottle glinting in the fluorescent light. My hands tremble, and my pride is in shambles. I can’t help but chuckle at the dramatics of the situation.
My mother’s voice echoes in my head, reminding me of the childhood torture she put me through—slapping a sticker on a ruler and forcing me to train my eyes every single day. I thought I was free.
But no. Here I am. The day has come.
The capsule spills into my palm—a small, gelatinous, artificially coloured beacon of hope. I examine the ingredients, pretending I can still read without holding the bottle at arm’s length.
- Blueberry extract—because I guess my eyes have been malnourished this whole time.
- Lutein & zeaxanthin—things I never cared about, yet suddenly sound like my last chance at redemption.
- Green propolis—Wait. Green? What does that even mean? I thought I knew propolis. I’m from the land of propolis! Have I been ignorant this whole time?!
- A smorgasbord of antioxidants, vitamins, and things I can’t pronounce but am now desperately clinging to.
Consumption: The Ceremony of Restoration
I pop the capsule in my mouth and swallow. My heart races. I wait.
Nothing.
Rude.
I expected an instant miracle—BAM, high-definition vision—a glorious, cinematic experience where every pixel sharpens into crystal clarity. But no. I am still just me, sitting in my room, questioning every life choice that has led me to this moment.
But I imagine the magic working—my retinas soaking up the antioxidants like parched travellers in a desert of screen time, my optic nerves throwing a tiny rave as they absorb the lutein. I believe in the process because I refuse to succumb to glasses. Ever.
Final Thoughts: Hope in a Capsule
Huishun’s Marigold Extract x Green Propolis Double Support Capsules have arrived in my life at the exact moment I needed them. They’re like a beacon of hope in the darkness of my vision struggles. Divine timing? Obviously. Proof that I am still God’s favourite child? Absolutely.
Am I saved? It’s too soon to tell. But if you catch me squinting in my next video, just pretend you didn’t see it.
For now, I keep taking these capsules like a desperate ex clinging to the last shred of a dying relationship—because my pride, my dignity, and my screen-addicted eyeballs depend on it. It’s a bitter pill to swallow, but I’ve come to accept it as a necessary solution.
