un péché ou une folie à deux.

they say not to blame yourself for not knowing something before you learn it. naivety is its own bliss that allows you to live in a dream, the curtain over your eyes, the sheath over the blade.

but what happens when you have to wake up; when you’re ripped from your dream into a waking nightmare?

you’ve drawn the blade and shredded the curtain before my eyes revealing my sin as what it is, what it really was all along.

eyes. eyes, this whole thing is about them. those stupid little round things in our skulls. yours find mine, mine find yours, over and over again and neither of us knows who’s looking first at this point but that doesn’t matter. as long as i’m looking. as long as you’re looking. are you seeing me? are you really seeing me? what are you seeing? what the fuck do you see?

i shouldn’t have let it get this far, i should have stopped it long before it got to this. but i didn’t, because i’m selfish, and so are you. this whole thing goes both ways.

how can i stop you from looking, anyway? last i checked it wasn’t the one who is seen’s job to pluck out the eyes of the see-er. i would, though, if you pluck out mine as well (reminder: we’re both guilty here, but you are more-so than i. at least that is something.)

 -  f. e. celler

07.24.22