Member-only story
Your Opinion Matters
Sorry, no — not yours
“Would it please you if I said your eyes were twin goldfish bowls filled to the brim with the clearest green water and that when the fish swim to the top, as they are doing now, you are devilishly charming?”
― Margaret Mitchell
When you look longingly into my eyes — as if about to kiss me — I want to look down toward my toes, shying away from the reality that I don’t like you. Not even a little bit.
But when you look deeply into my sole being — as if about to sweep me off my feet with your intoxicating essence — I want to close my eyes and capture this moment, forever instilled in my soul, my heart, my mind.
See the difference in perception here?
But you? You?
You are the same, whoever the fuck you even are. You could be silently reading this alone in your bed. Or you could be out with friends, scrolling through the nearly endless scripts found on the Internet.
You could be my reason for writing this rather random blog. Or you could be the reason I’ve waited so long to post this rather random blog.
My opinion of you doesn’t matter. And I hope you know your opinion of me doesn’t matter, either. And sure, I don’t know you (again, whoever the fuck you are), but I also know who you are to me, be it…
