Thoughts

The Watcher

I feel their eyes, I can feel their stares burning into my flesh. I can sense them, creeping behind me, I feel their presence. It's like I've developed a sixth sense telling me when their eyes are on me. They will not stop, I want to hide, my safe place is not safe. The one safe spot of this building is a small room that echoes voices, so it's not entirely secret, but it prevents their stares.

Everywhere I turn I am being watched, by someone, something. I turn but there is nothing there, I imagine, but there is nothing there. Sometimes I will look and there will be a pair of eyes, it's predictable as much as it's unpredictable. I can sense when I'm being watched, I've learned to turn and look when I sense something, and usually I am right. I stare back at it.

It knows I know it's there, it knows I watch back. The watcher is watched by the watched. If I look back at it, nothing will happen.

But it has learned. It has learned to watch without being detected. I look back at it, but there is nothing there, no indicator, but I know it sees me. I side eye it, so it knows I still see it, that I know it's watching me. There is no privacy between us, my safe place is not safe. I am only allowed safety when I must switch clothing, other than that, nothing is truly secret. It can watch, anytime it wants, and I will not know.