Eyes Beyond Goodbyes
"What one person finds beautiful, another may not. It emphasizes that beauty is a matter of personal opinion and can vary from individual to individual."
The previous phrase was the first Google search that comes up when you type in "beauty is in the eye of the beholder meaning."
Disrespectfully, some beholders suck ass. If you'd like me to say it again, I will. Again and again and again. I will scream it to the rooftops. Again, ask me why I care about your subconscious hatred.
Subconscious hatred? Or perhaps subconscious indifference. Don't get me started on the differentiation, I will talk for days solely on that. All the same, both have negative connotations. However, I must talk about the subconscious part.
The subconscious part of your soul is a mixture of the underlying meanings behind your life story that no one told you and just observed, to someone blatantly telling you something and you possibly gathering your own opinion on it. Relentless hate can be subconscious, unfortunately. Your parents are notorious for forming your opinions, whether you believe it or not. My favorite subject to discuss is your inner voice, and how it emulates the way your parents talked to you growing up. Mine used to scream at me a lot. Thus being screamed at led to always being on edge and ready to defend everyone and everything.
The defensiveness can also be an ailment. Allows me to place impossible standards on my interpersonal relationships. Even so, my judgment for people stands being corrected. People are the way that they are, and it will always be that deep of an abyss to discuss. Individuality makes my heart do a million backflips.
Subconscious indifference I feel can also be a segway to the quote: “Insanity is doing the same thing over and over again, and expecting different results.” You’ve seen your parents not get far in life. Work that muscle that is your brain and manifest something different for yourself. Interchangeably, the aforementioned quote is applied to a scientist (with no reputable source proving that he even said this) but I’ve been surrounded by quite a bit of religion lately. Favoring anonymity and feeling like eyes have a hard time being anonymous.
Eyes being the windows to your soul. I don’t like when people look into my eyes. At 24 years old, you will still catch me avoiding eye contact. Sometimes, I’d like to think my lack of eye contact has to do with something different besides anxiety. Maybe it’s me physically not being able to see the person. I can vividly remember realizing that my eyes weren’t perfect 20/20 vision. After a day full of swimming at my great aunt’s. If I am not mistaken, it was the first and the last time we spent the night over there (I do feel mistaken though). I do know that it was the first night my sister and I slept in a room with our goofy boy second cousin named Derek. We’d go on to lose Derek a measly ten years later. Life fucking sucks.
My windows to my soul match my mother’s who got them from her father. We three have big, dark brown eyes, they are almost black. I hated them until I saw them on my son. They are gorgeous on my son. I am back and forth between loving them on me due to the hostility I have towards my maternal grandfather that probably will never be healed. He couldn’t look me in the eye either.
Why so dismissive? Why so serious, Aaliyah?
Crying people seem to think is a sign of weakness. When crying is everything but weak. Crying is being strong. Crying is unisex. Crying is opening your unique special eyes and flushing them of all of the unpleasantries that you've faced. A whole new world, and we are all fucking mermaids.
Below are some of my favorite pictures of eyes. Let me explain my thought processes.
Eyes being windows to the soul, and that topic being mentioned here, brings a peculiarity to what I am about to say next. My mother said her father didn’t believe that animals had souls. A bullet would go through them faster than his brain could conceptualize respecting animals, especially cats and dogs. Thick skull having ass.
Anyway, this photo/painting is stunning. The protection the dogs’ placements emphasize is all the more impressive. The dogs they chose to use as well. So deserving of love, and definitely not rid of pain. No such thing as voiding out pain. But companionship is quintessential to living a fulfilling life, amongst beings that very much have souls and very much can instinctively view bad apples in the batch of them. You’ll get yours if you haven’t already.
Now here is this beauty. Entrancing to say the least. Their eyes are covered, with yet again a being that apparently isn’t soul bearing. The lack of color and the brightness of the blood under the nose is contrastingly striking. This picture caters to the thrill lovers, seekers if you will. And guides the mind to a place where sometimes we don’t need our eyes. Can beauty be felt? Can beauty be shared between parallel lives? Between curly and pin straight hair, blue and black eyes, black and white skin. All full of beauty but in their own ways. Those rose colored glasses I might have mentioned somewhere in an entry or book before? Only acceptable way to use them.
I will force you to find beauty in everything. You deserve to be called stunning as much as the next fucking person. Goodbye.
[Image description: two eyes, blue eye higher than the brown eye, with hands reaching out of their pupils and for each other. They don’t quite meet in the middle. This picture was so cool to come across! Being in an active relationship, I always look for great things to send my man. I sent him this, he loved it, and he loves it over here (mind yo business). I hope you don’t let your coworkers ruin your day. I hope you feel connections such as this photo, as space should be held for everyone.]
