Magical Tipsy Toes

They say when you look into someone’s eyes, like really look…you see their heart, you hear their soul.

That’s what my grandfather used to tell me. That if you really wanted to know a person, you look at them; really look at them, look at them not just with your eyes, but with your heart open. That’s where their stories are. That’s where the stories that matter are kept hidden.

Although, I was still a teenage kidlet when he told me this, I will admit I was wondering how in the blazes do I look at people with my heart open. Do I intently stare at them with my eyes wide open and try to enlarge my heart by holding my breath or do I gaze secretly and quietly.

So when I asked my mum about it, she told me that what my grandfather really meant was that it was polite to look at someone when they are talking to you. I figured my mum was probably right after all it kinda made sense.

Subconsciously I guess, when talking with family or friends, I would always wonder what kinds of stories their eyes hold. I was curious, not that I desperately wanted to know each of their story, but for some strange reason I just wanted to know what caused those looks and hidden emotions in their eyes. What elicits such emotions that even the eyes can’t hide? I realize it’s even more incredible when they decide to actually tell you their stories and that’s when their eyes actually bring you back with them down memory lane, their very own unique pathway. And down this pathway, that’s where I learnt who they really are and what makes their soul. Not the spiritual kind of course, but the kind of soul that makes the “oomph” in their heart.

Sometimes, I feel a great need to calm and take away the painful look they have even when they think no one notices. Sometimes, it’s the loneliest looks that make me question over and over again. Sometimes it’s the look of denial that worries me and also want to beat the crap out of them because of their sheer stupidity. Sometimes it’s the look of arrogance and cockiness and yet being able to find warmth in the eyes. It’s amazing really all these stories the eyes tell. Sometimes it leaves me thinking how I wish I could replace that one particular look with some happy ones instead. And sometimes, I realized I’m not suppose to do anything. That I just need to listen quietly and listen properly and just leave it be.

“Imagine, imagine if just one look could break you. Imagine if your eyes told a story your heart was desperately hiding from? So tell me, what is it you see when you look at me? And I’ll tell you how wrong or maybe how right you are”

But it wasn’t till recently, I’ve wondered, how is it that when you can look at someone and really see them for who they are and yet when they look back at you, you feel vulnerable. That with one look, they can put you in your place and yet, it’s those eyes that intrigue you the most and you realize that he/she is the reason for you. Who could probably rescue you from the fires of hell and yet you wonder…..and yet a part of you wonders what kind of stories your own eyes hide secretly.

In this secret mind, there are these secret thoughts. Some of which is simple and some of which is complicated. A couple of them are accepted. And a couple of them are rejected.

In this secret mind, there are these secret thoughts. Some of which is labelled loco. Some of which is labelled accepted. A few of them have conversations. A few of them ignore each other.

Unfortunately, it’s here in the secret mind that it’s been discovered that four different voices are living. Loco is the name, while Red is the other. Peanut is the floozy one and then you have Frazzy.

In this secret mind, a new addition has been added. It doesn’t have a name just yet…maybe you could help pick one instead.

A poem from Peppermint Patty to Sharkbait

So your nose is stuffy
And you cant hear yourself,
Your throat is croaky
And you gotta let out the phlegm
You know when you go home at night
You have to hear their plight

The world is in chaos
And you feel the need to make it right
But at the end of the day you are just a gal
With voices in your head & battles within yourself

So clear that stuffy nose & croaky throat
And tomorrow will be a spiffy day.