TAKE MY EYES

18-12-25

Often, I have a strange longing: not that someone were watching me, but that someone should be inside me and be able to see precisely what I see and to feel the exact moment as I would feel it. Not that my life or worldview is more exciting than another’s. This desire doesn’t visit me at moments of importance. It comes instead when nothing is happening at all, when I’m driving, while I lay in bed, while I shower. It’s then that my life feels most defensible in its triviality. This desire is not indecent or inherently sexual. It is closer to intimacy, but naming it already feels like a falsification and a wank off. Undeniably, there are moments in which I imagine another person viewing my naked body through my eyes, but with their own thoughts and judgments. This is less an appeal to the body than a demand for proof that my body is worth being in at all.

Yet I’m undecided as to whether I would truly want this intrusion. I oscillate between total erasure complete anonymity, and having a permanent surveillance system installed in my room.

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