Blind Man's Bluff

There's a parable I remember hearing as a kid about the blind man who wasn't really blind. People would ask him how it was he'd lost his sight and he never gave the same answer twice.

Finally, a man who'd listened to his explanations finally approached him and said he knew the blind man could see because his explanations often contradicted themselves, which is the mark of a liar.

"Tell me the truth, sir," the Master said. "Why won't you open your eyes?"

To his surprise, the blind man began to cry. After a few moments, he collected himself enough to say, "Because I was once an evil man, and if I look at you, then you'll look at me and you'll see all the things I've done."

The Master put a hand on the blind man's shoulder and said, "My friend, if you're not the man you were, then see the world as it is now and let it see you for who you are."

My grandmother told me that at a time when I felt so excluded because I didn't seem "cool" or "popular" in school, as most kids often do, sad to say. I admit that as I got older it was harder not to do and nowadays, it's almost commonplace for me to not look at people at all if I can help it.

As someone with eyes as expressive as mine, I do spend a lot of time trying to keep people from knowing what they have to say. For if they are indeed, "the windows to the soul" as the adage implies, then I often shudder to think what you all see when mine open up.

The truth is I feel like they give away too much most of the time. They say things I can't bring myself to vocalize, or maybe put into the proper words. It's why I have a habit of looking away from someone when they make me smile and I close them when I have to say something emotional.

Because if I look at you, there's a chance I'll say too much or say the wrong thing. It's a mistake I've made before.

Too many times.