Blind Eye
It's amazing- depressingly amazing, how long a person can fail to notice a pile of shit. There it sits in the corner, festering, making itself known to all but the one who is constantly near it. Sans this one, the rest see it for what it is: An obnoxious, useless pile of shit that will be better forgotten than smelled.
But there's this one that sees it through one eye as art, beauty, worth it. After awhile they failed to notice even the stench when it was toyed with and poked around in. It became a part of their daily life and no longer registered; in fact, the absence of this shit only seemed to hurt more and they couldn't cope with the world when it was lacking, despite how everyone around them could see the one's life as going infinitely better in that absence.
This one is afraid of being alone, afraid that this pile of shit is the only thing they'll ever see beauty in, and refuse to let it go even when it is painfully obvious to the others around it that it should be shunned. They need not poke around inside to look for beauty- if you look hard enough at anything for something, you'll find it- they need only to passively observe its interaction with the world for a fair period of time. Judgement? Absolutely. Nobody cries "don't judge them" when the murderer is sent to death for henious acts, this is no different. No, the others see the pile for what it is: Shit. Nothing more. So why does the one see it out of one eye as art?
They're terrified of opening the other eye and seeing the pile for what it is, terrified of being wrong for so long and feeling so stupid for not coming to their full senses.
But the others wouldn't judge the one for that. The one is the essence of good and beauty, and means only well. The one is not a pile of shit, just blind in one eye.
Uncover it.
But there's this one that sees it through one eye as art, beauty, worth it. After awhile they failed to notice even the stench when it was toyed with and poked around in. It became a part of their daily life and no longer registered; in fact, the absence of this shit only seemed to hurt more and they couldn't cope with the world when it was lacking, despite how everyone around them could see the one's life as going infinitely better in that absence.
This one is afraid of being alone, afraid that this pile of shit is the only thing they'll ever see beauty in, and refuse to let it go even when it is painfully obvious to the others around it that it should be shunned. They need not poke around inside to look for beauty- if you look hard enough at anything for something, you'll find it- they need only to passively observe its interaction with the world for a fair period of time. Judgement? Absolutely. Nobody cries "don't judge them" when the murderer is sent to death for henious acts, this is no different. No, the others see the pile for what it is: Shit. Nothing more. So why does the one see it out of one eye as art?
They're terrified of opening the other eye and seeing the pile for what it is, terrified of being wrong for so long and feeling so stupid for not coming to their full senses.
But the others wouldn't judge the one for that. The one is the essence of good and beauty, and means only well. The one is not a pile of shit, just blind in one eye.
Uncover it.
posted by Berzerk at 2:39 PM
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