Let’s have a little heart to heart, because that’s all I know.


I’m not the best person to ask for directions nor ask for advice on you OOTD, granted, but I can see what you miss while you’re busy scrolling through the endlessness of Instagram, scratching your head over whether your party favours look picture perfect, Pintrest in real life. I’ll never ask you for a selfie, nor ask you to fix your hair if we’re out together. Even in public. I’m just here looking out for you.

I’ll see the sadness when you put on your brave smiles, I’ll be the one asking you what’s wrong because you can tell me. There will literally be no judgement in my eyes. Trust me.

About me, let’s just say there’s more to me that meets the eye. I don’t want you looking into my eyes and wondering what life must be like. I’d rather you asked me about it. I’d tell you how I can see dotted specks of light in the darkest of blacks, myriad, vivid flowing patterns that transform seamlessly with my moods- like a moving, non dimensional play of the creatures of the mind. It’s beautifully distracting, a whole playlist of the wonders of the mind. Try it sometime.

Whenever you begin to feel the pressure and pain of the world you live in, your personal jail cell of under expressed emotions, the crumbly, frail walls on which you rest your happiness,  and your glassy eyed existence hits you like a falling sandbag, try seeing  your emotions. Feel them take shapes and forms more unique and complex than you could ever imagine. Then call me, and I won’t say I told you so.


I don’t claim to see more than you do, but I can see through more facades, more pretense, some glass doors as well. Your faces- something you’ve all learned to wear, a mask from the invisible demons you fear- but never see past, or care to go without. Like spectacles; honestly heavy and cumbersome at the start but you can’t even feel it on your face and walk into a shower with it on. It’s that sort of a mask for you, one you fail to see, except I can.

I wonder if you know I can see through it.

I can see your inflections when you lie, I can hear you cry silently over the phone when you talk, I can see the lust in your voice when you talk of her, I see your potential when you don’t.

Please don’t look at me weird, but tell me what you see- when you look at me. Precisely what. And who. And if any of this is scary, in any way.

I hope you don’t mind for being this forward, I was born like this. Exactly like this.

Where I can see more, but less than everybody.

You can call me perceptive, so I’m not hurt. Except now, I’m used to it- You can just call me blind.


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