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See Through My Eyes

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When I’m around a large crowd of people, I am constantly looking down at my arms, touching my neck, and checking my legs. I need to be sure they don’t see what I see. Can they, though? Can they see the bruises on my arms, the lip stains on my neck, and the blood between my legs? I am sure they can, but for some reason, no one stares. Sometimes I think it’s because everyone has different eyes than I do. I look at myself and see filth. I still see the bruises pressed onto my skin by the man that held me down, the lips that smothered my face and neck and the stains he left, and the violent flow of blood that he unleashed. It seems these things do not still exist on my body, but only in my mind. Others do not notice the filth or the blood that were once there, and apparently are not anymore. I used to have the same eyes as everyone else. I used to be clean. Then I saw things and I felt things, and that made all the difference between ‘my eyes’ and ‘their eyes.’





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Reigyn said...
Oct. 5, 2011 at 9:56 am
this is so intense and beautifully written. I love how you draw a comparison between your eyes and everyone elses. And I think it's true that people don't notice the things that you do, but mostly because they never think about noticing. i love this piece. good job!
 
Colby This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine. replied...
Oct. 20, 2011 at 10:53 pm
Thanks so much! I appreciate it!
 
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