Sometimes I feel as if I'm not really here. As if I'm just a luminous spirit floating above a sea of different hearts and minds and agendas. Somewhere down the line I noticed this out of body experience was my only way to view the world--detached, unconnected, and completely pure.
I wish, whenever I enter a room full of strangers that I could just stay in the presence of their company, and that alone. But they always ask for my story. I wish I had none to tell. However, we all have a story to tell, secrets locked within our very souls that beg to be kept hidden; beg never to see the light of day. Instead we dig them out when prompted or coaxed, and our secrets scream to be left alone. We never seem to listen.
My own secret cannot be kept hidden. It is in my eyes, and in the blank glassy stare I'm told I constantly give to the world.
I am blind....but aren't we all?