if you paid attention, then maybe you'd understand. or maybe you never were really meant to, in the same capacity that i don't. we may choose to throw it all up and let the wind decide options we never had the strength to confirm. decisions that weighed more than souls combined yet let alone to be tickled by faith in random fate. factored only by time, and quite possibly by the random permutations of chance. a thousand silent messages are exchanged, when our pupils dilate in the shared space when we accidentaly look at each other.

or maybe she doesn't really care when i look at her. she seems too engrossed in her art. what comfort does doubt provide?