The Gaze

The Gaze

It follows you. It refuses to die down. It transfers itself from one to another in a matter of seconds. You are left with no choice. You ignore. Time and again. But for how much longer till the cracks show up. Stretching from the tip of your hair to the your toe nails. The piercing gaze sickens your insides. You want to escape and not be seen. Not be seen by anyone. What, you wonder, would one feel like if there was no one around them with that gaze. You would just walk on. Just let yourself be. Pure tranquility.

You need to look up and acknowledge it. You need to let them know that you know and are aware. You are not what you are for him or her. You are what you are because YOU want to.

The gaze makes us and also breaks us. Or breaks into us. Me. I don’t want it on me. I don’t want to go off to sleep knowing “there is someone right now looking at me”. I don’t. But I know it will not change. He is there looking at me. At my every move. At my every gaze. Every thought. Every breath. It sickens me.

I give my all away to the gaze. I wither, until I find a host to my gaze. Then I derive myself from the unknown.

I follow.

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