+ Blindfold +
You dare judge me? You, of all people? Why? Why do you judge me? Do you know me as me or the rest of my life and existence? What right do you have? Were you there when the heaviest burdens of my life dawned on me, depriving me of sleep and peace of mind? No, you know nothing. So how dare you judge me.
The cold nights of loneliness, the thoughts plaguing my mind and emotions with torment have existed within me from a time you barely knew... Once upon a time, it existed deep within me... Once upon a time when I nearly lost my soul.
You dare judge me? Everyone does. Why? Should you not be judged as well? How dare you state your self-claimed facts about someone whose eyes you could not even look into. You speak about my life, seeing only the surface and never wondering why it's so.
My childhood spent alone amidst all the questions nobody wishes to answer. And I wasn't asking why the sky was blue. My eyes peeled open to reality, peeled open to the harshness of life and to the political existence between adults, families and everyone else... The greed, the hatred, the jealousy all hidden behind fake smiles muffling up the low whispers about lives turning into chapters and chapters of a book that people never read but just listen to... in low whispers.
You dare judge me and yet you act like there's nothing wrong. Is it supposed to be part of the most normal things in the world? Simply because it's normal doesn't mean it's right. And just because you've found people who think the same as you do doesn't mean you're right as well.
How dare you flash me that smile and ask me how I do when all you want to hear is the regress in my life. And in those eyes, I see the lies, the betrayal and everything swirling. Those pools of thoughts lurking from behind are very visible to me - from those eyes that could not look into my own.
You dare judge me? Yes, don't they always? And if so, my difference is wrong to you. And you laugh. You laugh because I'm different. But me? I laugh because you're all the same.
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So maybe this is lame for my first "sort of declamation" piece but you can't blame a writer for jotting down her feelings. And like my other writings, this will undergo revision... sometime.
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