These eyes are haunting. I can’t bear to look at them in the mirror. There’s something… off, about them.They’re like bottomless wells, and those who venture too close run the risk of falling in, never to find a way out. All the light that tries to illuminate its depths inevitably get sucked into its thick, suffocating blackness.
On the contrary, yours singed with the icy anger of a blazing sun today. So much fury under that placid surface – so intense that they burned all the way through these hollow tunnels and struck me at my core.
Which is to say I didn’t expect my heart to be ringing in my ears, as deafening as brass bells.
How could I?
I thought the wells that brought you here ran dry. You were supposed to bounce off these walls like rocks.
Sharp, dusty and hollow.
Like the surrounding soil that no longer nourishes.
Cracked, parched and barren.
“I am a piece of paper. Each time something like this happens, it’s like they’ve punched holes in me. I’m afraid I’ve let so many people have their way with me that I am more nothing than paper.
I have hope that one day these feelings… these people will find no space left to take hold.
Maybe then they’ll leave me be.”
The truth is that I hate having to fend for myself. I still have trouble believing that there are people who’d be so cruel, so selfish, so greedy.
If I try hard enough, I can come up with a story. He touched me because he wanted comfort that he couldn’t find from his wife. Maybe they were arguing. Maybe their love dried up and now their wells are hollow. Maybe…
But is it their story?
I am not privileged to know their truth. So I respond by leaving space for questions and possibilities – a canvas for them to sketch their haphazard lines and let me understand.
Except I’ve run out of paper.
And space I left has become a growing river. It swims all around me, alive and bubbling with swallowed words.
May the river seep through your skin, then. Let it fill you with these well-wishes.