By: Kristin Cox
I could bear those hypocritical smiles no longer! I felt that I must scream or die!—and now—again---hark! louder! louder! LOUDER! As my feeble, weary soul became more and more and more annoyed by this beating sound, I had to do something. I began to remove the nails that I had so carefully hammered into the floor only to find that the old man was indeed dead. However, that eye continued to mysteriously gaze into mine. At that point, I realized that I was addicted to the sight of the eye. I actually adored the eye. It seemed as if the eye could see into my soul. The eye knew the “true” me. This beating that I heard was actually my heart longing for the sight of the eye, so I took one last dreadful, but yet pleasing look at it. I saw myself. It was me that I had been so obsessed with, but hated at the same time. The eye saw me for who I really was.
Disclaimer: The photo was found on http://www.freakingnews.com/.
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