Fated Stars [STOPPED]

Opia

Opia

- (noun) the ambiguous intensity of looking someone in the eyes
which can feel simultaneously invasive and vulnerable

Eyes are the clearest window to a person's soul and feelings.
They show things,
emotions,
that cannot be seen
when hearing them speak enthusiastically or dully,
or even when looking at them from afar.
So, for that, it is called a window.
Like how a window perceives things
outside
the comforts of a building.

My mother always thought you could see a person's intentions by looking at their eyes. She was exactly the type of person to believe in everyone's hidden good- not focusing on the bad they were presented with. Instead- she would show them kindness and it was quickly returned.

My father- on the other hand- thought it was killing them with kindness. It was a constant power struggle for the two of them- an extremely optimistic people-loving woman who married a pessimistic quiet man who glared at everyone who he thought mildly suspicious. And by everyone- I mean literally everyone.

So my sister and I thought it would be nice to balance them out. We became realists- yes, it was hilarious when she suggested it but, like the considerate sister I was- let her go with her way.

Back to the topic- sorry, got a tad bit distracted there. My mother would smile warmly until the person melted and you can see nothing but a pile of water and other fleshy things.

Sorry.

Anyway- she told me to believe in that. Eyes would always tell the intentions of a person. Their unnatural sparkle, the hidden shadow- I absolutely loved it when she told me stories when her theory proved right. I would cuddle  up beside her while she would murmur stories of utter appreciation and witty comments until I slowly drifted to sleep, my fingers curled around the worn-out fabric of her favorite satin nightdress that hung loosely from her slender figure.

That theory stayed with me until the car accident- my mother slowly lost her life as I stood there, helpless. Eyes wide, I slowly saw what it was like to lose a mother. And it was horrible- I became slowly quiet, slowly a recluse. It wasn't much of a change from my shy persona. But- it was surely odd to see a person staring slightly your way, her hair placed in a messy bun and eyes shining in a way you'd think they were silently judging. Creepy, isn't it?

Eyes slowly became something like a topic I'd rather much avoid. The purest window of a person's soul which was vulnerable to fear and sensitivity. And maybe- I thought of stars somewhat like eyes- windows but not mirrors. Shining but not sparkling enough. Lovely but not generous enough. Something beautiful but not lacking enough quality.