I wouldn't dare to look someone straight in the eyes for a moment before. Because they would see something, some place, some figments of memory stored in me.  A certain feeling, and if one would really look closely—someone’s face.

They would see how empty I was inside, and how convincingly full I am on the outside, and how I mastered the art of pretention.
They would see how I wanted for someone like them to want me.
They would see that beyond this lifeless, cold pair of eyes were a thousand rainbows of unchased dreams and a sky filled with unrealistic dreams. How I wanted to be wanted. And above all;
how I want to be found.

They would see the fears I have withheld through the years,
The emotions I have keep to tuck inside me whenever I am blinded that they are there

The sparks of sadness I hide
The truth I have made to abide

Most people would look away, and tried to unseen what they have seen, and smile awkwardly and move on with their lives. And when that moment of detachment happens, even if it were in a blink of an eye, everything would be gone. The magic, if there was any. The connection, if I have made any. Even the sense of being there would be gone. Even the coldness. Even the warmth.
And even me. I would be gone as well.

Once someone retracts from staring back at me, and so does I.
There is nothing more painful than the idea of someone to avoiding their visions away from yours.
It’s like avoiding their lives with yours.
Some people would say miracles doesn’t at all happen, but I believe they do, somehow.

And that’s when someone look back right at me and actually, stay.