You know that feeling you get when someone is looking just right exactly at you? They’re looking so at you that it’s like they’re seeing into your soul and thoughts and some more of your soul, and you feel like a book that they’re mildly interested in, opening up to any random page to see if they like the writer’s style or story. They’re looking into your soul-book and seeing what they can, deciding who you are and want to be and should be.
Some people really don’t like this feeling, and I know I sure didn’t. It felt like an invasion of privacy, and an awkward one at that. But sometimes I think it could feel like a joining of two minds and two souls and all that jazz, which sounds kind of cliché, but I don’t really know what else to expect. A connection like that is something I’ve never experienced, and it’s my fault.
Me, I took that connection for granted, avoided it, avoided the awkward eye contact and the stares and everything else that went with it. Whenever people would try to get to know me, Josiah McKinney, I shut them out, and I’m not really sure why. It was an automatic reaction and it didn’t seem like I had a say in it. I regret that now. I regret it a lot. I can’t even start over or turn a new page in my soul-book and try again. Well, I guess I could, but it wouldn’t really matter because no one’s looked at me with any kind of recognition for a very, very long time.
That might be a tad bit of an exaggeration, because I’m not the only one here. Stuck here, I mean. Can’t move forward, can’t move back. There are no beginnings here. No endings, either. Time just goes on and on and on and on, and you have to figure out what to do to make it a little bit okay. Just a little bit more acceptable.
Any guesses where I am yet? If you have an idea, but said ‘Naw, that’s crazy!’ then you’re probably dead on.
Hahahahaha. “Dead on.” Get it?That’s right, kiddos. I’m dead, and there’s nothing anybody can do about it.