Eyes

It seems to me that everything around me is being hidden. There is a curtain on every window, there is a mask on every face, and there isn’t enough light for me to see anything. You censor every conversation and cover everything you write. Why am I not being included in this game? I am not sure if it is actually a game or just the way that you show it to me.

One evening, driven by my boredom and curiosity, I ran out. I stumbled upon an old bookstore with broken windows but books in pristine condition. Inside, knowledge waited for me, but not all of it—history books with missing pages, journals bursting with uncensored thoughts. Armed with revelations, I thought I should inform those around me, but I realised that the walls had left me alone. 

I walk out of this bookstore, and I look up at the sky, and it appears as if all these eyes are looking at me. Do the skies have eyes? Maybe they do, but I don't know if I want them to see me continuously. I have to move out somehow; I have to keep to myself somehow. Yet, more than I already am?

I hid from those that hid from me, but they were no longer there, at least to my knowledge. So, what now? What will I do with myself if everything ends and begins with myself? Yet it was not always like that; now I am only more aware of it.