These Are My Eyes

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My words are my mind but they are also my eyes as they appear on the screen. Do you understand? I want you to think about how you see me and then strip away the mystery, because there is none. It’s no mystery how I blend in to society just like you.

Writing takes comfort, of which I have none. No, that’s not entirely true. I have many comforts, but they do not bring me security. Writing takes security. Not the kind that tells me where I will eat the next day, but at least the kind that will tell me where I will sleep. And that’s not to imply that I can’t keep moving. I can keep moving, I have and I do, but I must move inside environments that are entirely mine, that I create, not these borrowed ones. So many borrowed environments.

I can’t see where I am going. I was hoping you would lead me.

Love was always my direction, which is no direction at all. It is volatile in nature and I shouldn’t keep trusting love can take me places. Modern love doesn’t live for very long or at least I don’t trust that it will.

I say this but deep down I know I want love eternally. I do, oh yes, I want it badly, but I don’t know if I believe there is a person on this planet who can grow at the rate I grow, evolve at the rate I evolve; he who changes and does not condemn; sees both sides and does not mind accepting all and everything; everything and nothing at the same time. That is how I live. But I am not always so forward moving, maybe a forward thinker, but not always forward moving.

I have friends. I believe I have a few. I keep them behind a digital screen because I am so sensitive to their feelings and I cannot hide my own. Here I can hide. So these friends whom I know (and they do see me at times, so they know) – they tell me I’m mysterious, that I am good at hibernating. They tell me they see in me such potential. If I counted the hours I stared at walls (digital walls count, of course, too) if I added these hours, what would you think of me and my potential? Would you say I am wasting it?

Potential. Did it ever occur to anyone but me that I never wanted to be anything at all? I built this mold for you because you said that I had to be something, because simply being wasn’t enough. And now my potential is unfulfilled. Well, that’s your opinion.

I forgive you.

Frankly, my dear, I believe this is my full potential. This right here.

What I am doing is sharing my mind, typing on a keyboard that is 8 years out of date, but I like the way the mechanical keys feel so I keep it and I keep typing and this is as soothing as cards being shuffled. I love the sound of cards being shuffled and paper- flipping paper pages.

This is my full potential. I post an article here, a song there. You perceive me to be moving? Only in my mind, I say. My body sits still and waits to live and loves from a distance and wants, but knows not how to give anything but words from a mechanical keyboard.

I don’t watch movies any more. Not really. I have no patience when my mind is so busy running to keep up with my thoughts that meander and cry out in languages I can’t comprehend. I keep listening and I feel I am doing so much, but you see, I’m just staring at a wall and my body barely moves.

I’ve met a few who think they’d like to love me. To that I say, then love me, but look at me first.

One day when my mouth moves with these words in my head and I can look at you with real eyes and if yours don't turn away, then you can love me and I will love you.

But right now, you see, I look at you with my mind. I’m the girl sitting at a café never looking left nor right, the one who leaves unnoticed. Unremarkable. I’m at home with a glass of wine flipping through fashion magazines. I’m dancing in my room and falling in love with music, moments, and faces that do not move. But mostly I am sitting in my chair in the corner of the room that the light illuminates the longest. Still a dark corner because it’s a dark room, but there I am sitting, my glass of wine on the windowsill. I watch tarot videos because I don’t have a religion and their words soothe me, the shuffling of the cards soothes me.

I am sitting there barely breathing. My mouth never speaks, only my mind, and you see my face never moving because I have taken a photo for you. There is a quietness to all this, a twisted form of peace. I sip my wine and forgive you for thinking there should be more to this, to me. This is my potential. I am living it. And if I am more one day, then I will be more. But this is my potential. This is me.

Take the time to see me how I really am. These are my eyes. If you wish to know me and you haven’t yet met me, these are my eyes. They are words, but they are also my eyes.

 

 

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