When I look at me through your eyes I see someone I never saw before, but is that someone real? When you close your eyes, do I go away? Do I exist only while  you are looking? Is there someone else that sees themselves in those eyes the same as I do? Skepticism has taught me that my vision is often clouded by what I would like to be true. At the end of the day, will I find that the rose coloured glasses were mine and not yours at all?  I am far more adept at seeing the pain in my own eyes than the pain in yours.  Is there a tomorrow, a future in which my questions are resolved? Is any of it real, or is it all a passing fantasy, pulling me away as a fluff of dandelion in the wind?  It is easier to be centered when it hurts, I have more experience there than elsewhere.  The sunny days have begun to fade and the grey ones are like old friends, gathered to say, “welcome home, foolish traveler, welcome home”.

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