The people that look at me, what do they see? The ones that dabble with curiosity to find the intricacies in my voice, what do they hear? I wonder if they can hear the silence between my words, if they can see the pause between my steps. I wonder if the world is simply too big for them to care.
Why do I care? We cross paths every day. I bump into them, order from them, and pull my car right up next to them. We interact, in almost every way. I smile, or nod. Somehow, I end up in their senses, and I can’t help but wonder if I’m perceived in the same way – the way I see my reflection. Out there, their sensory arms clutch around me for just that brief moment in time, like the way we verify our existence when we catch a glimpse of ourselves in a passing mirror. But what do they see?
They are the world around me.
Can they see me behind drawn curtains? Behind painted walls and mailboxes? Under duvets and cable boxes, can they hear my voice? Behind four painted walls, I feel safe from their senses, susceptible to only my own. But out there, what do I look, sound, and feel like?
If I try hard enough, I can feel eyes come to rest on me, like a spun coin settled on heads. Perhaps they see the redness in my cheeks from the brisk walk I took at lunch. Maybe they see the battle that wages on inside of me, where ego and insecurity posture to pick a fight but ultimately settle on time as the difference maker. Maybe they can hear the sadness in my voice when my mind questions joy, maybe they can’t hear a single world that comes out of my mouth.
I know, terribly introspective of me. Or is it? What about the ones who read my words – you know, you – do you see what I see, hear what I say? Of course not, don’t be silly. But how close are my words, as I put them, to what you see, feel, or hear? With a will to write until my last day, I can’t help but wonder what it is that you see.
You are the world around me.
Can you hear the restraint, from the corner of my lips – you know, the words that I have chosen not to say?
We are all painted people, monuments to what is really going on – just like the walls outside of where we rest our heads. But if we smile, or laugh, and choose those same words – will we see or hear the same thing?