Never Look Away

Whenever something sad happens to me it has always been instinct for me to look away. My fear of that image being seared into my brain as memory too big for compassion.

  I remember the time my heart stopped as I watched Death do what it does best on the steaming asphalt, under the spotlight of our cars brights. Don't cry. Don't cry. Don't cry. I looked away.
  I remember the time I saw the one and only tear come down Stonefaces' cheek. It can't be real. It would never be what it seemed. I looked away.
  I remember my heart skipping a beat as you passed me in the hall. You didn't look my way, so I pushed on, stinging words swirling in my mind. I was never worthy of that anyway. 
  I remember his calm voice, yet intense eyes that deliver the message: don't feel, don't feel, don't feel. I  managed to look away.
But now I'm standing in the midst of this silent blizzard and suddenly I need my eyes. And I 

can't.

look.

away.

  I remember when I felt a strange, sticky feeling suddenly cling in my chest. People tell me the real definition was "grief". 
And it won't go away.
  I remember going through old photographs and feeling like a mystery no one cared to solve.
And my eyes are glued to her face.

  I remember when Stoneface Jr. suddenly lost her nickname. Mascara still stains my shirt.
As much as I appreciate it, I wish it would wash away. 

  I remember swallowing "irrational" or "petty" tears because now I'm the one who has to carry in the heavy stuff from the car, fix too many broken things, or kill that spider while girls squeal and run for cover. This wasn't always my job. 
And they won't go away.

  I remember seeing him put a gun to her head with his words. But that bullet hit me and her both.
And this gaping hole won't go away. 

  Now I have these images seared in my brain and I remember how I've always wanted to run. To look away, never knowing any different. 

But as I gaze in the mirror, I realize that all I want to do now is look. As gruesome as they are, these memories intrigue me. Who is this girl? What has disregarding her emotion cost her? Are her eyes really as weary as they feel? All those late nights in the mountains, naps in the grass, waves and waves of people, or awe-striking stars tell me that I have never been more alive. Somehow they tell me that these eyes see more than the "general idea". They record the details. And they remember them. 

When I look into those eyes, I remember everything. The good, the bad, and the ugly. This is my life, these things make me who I am. And never again will I look away from anything that has played a piece in creating me. Even if it means dealing with pain. Because facing the truth has taught me what it feels like to live without sight and looking away has taught me what life would be like without a heart. And I don't know about you but my heart has always been something I can't bear to lose.