Last night, I was reading over old posts that I had written about him, desperately hoping to find some reason not to continue thinking he is just an awful person. I was trying to recall the good things I saw in him at one time but even while reading them, they were just faint whispers of potential and hope, rose-colored glasses and precariously balanced pedestals.
One thing that occurred to me as I was reading about all the things I loved and admired about him…all the things that turned me on about him….was that I never once mentioned his eyes. I know why….it’s because that was the one feature of his that I never found any warmth or comfort in. His eyes always seemed cold and hard to me…dim, lifeless.
Maybe it’s because he’s never looked at me with any love or genuine care, maybe it’s because I’ve never really looked into his eyes that much and tried to see more, maybe it’s because he’s so closed off that his inner light doesn’t shine through in his eyes, or maybe it’s because I was scared of what I would really see…or not see in him…that I never tried.
But I should have because they say the eyes are the windows to the soul so maybe if I had looked harder, I would have saved myself some trouble.