His face twitched as he glared at me. I held his stare for a moment, watching something shift in his eyes. It was as if something washed over him or a veil of some sort was lifted. His eyes sparkled as he took a long drag from his cigarette.
I awoke to the sound of metal clanking together. My eyelids felt heavy, and it was a chore for me to open them. There was a dull light flickering overhead. I turned my head, rolling my eyes around as I attempted to force my blurry vision into clarity.
“It’s not important why,” I snarled. “That’s not what created my issues. What created these manifestations was the isolation I felt when I couldn’t live up to the expectations laid out by my father. They were impossible notions to live up to, and even though I thought I exceeded them, I never scratched the surface in his eyes.”
How do you explain color to the blind? How do you tell a fish how it is to walk? If you were not there, if you did not experience the love they had for one another, then I could never explain it to you. It was an energy that filled the room. It was something that comforted and devoured you. And many times, I fell to tears after they left because I could no longer remember if I had ever felt that love for myself.