There was once a time when I could not look deep into someone’s eyes. If my eyes happened to meet someone else’s across a crowded room or in a casual conversation, my eyes would fall to the floor in an attempt to examine the earth beneath my feet. There was so much shame, so much misery, so much pain, that the thought of someone staring into my soul burned my inside and made me cringe at the site of an open iris.
But now when a pair of eyes meet mine I stare into theirs with all of my might until they see who I really am and are forced to drop their eyes either in shame or pain. I make sure that everyone with the courage to stare me down gets the full view of what’s inside and I make sure that they are forced to drop their glare first.
The only way to know who someone truly is, is to look long and hard in their eyes. The only way that I know if someone can accept me for who I am is if they can hold their gaze with my eyes for as long as I can hold mine with theirs. The only way I know the people whom I can trust is by staring into the pits of their being and burning them with the pits of mine.