Naked at the Window

You like to watch, don’t you?

It was one of the first sentences I ever spoke aloud as a child: I like to watch.

We all do, especially the more inquisitive and curious among us. We might feel there’s something safe in being the watcher instead of the watched, but there are dangers inherent in both, and a risk to all showing, telling, and receiving. When the watcher becomes the watched, that’s when things get tricky. In watching you may feel you have the upper hand, but that’s mere deception. When you’re watching, you’re rarely living. You’re not the one performing the action being looked at, you’re not the one participating. You are observer, removed and impotent from involvement.

Dare you turn your gaze inward? Dare you put yourself out there? It’s so easy to watch someone else do it, so easy to judge and condemn, lurking and hiding from all the other eyes in snarky darkness. What would happen if you drew your own curtain back? Would you be brave enough to face such a chilly world?

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