-Love is Blind

[Words to Image. My mental story based on a random image. I suggest you stare at the picture for a good 10-15 seconds, to imagine the scenario you might tag to it, and then read mine. A difference in perspective can be interesting]

Arlaic was a captive in his own mind. His past, more horrible to himself than others, ruled his thoughts, his actions, his confidence. He found himself wrapped up in his own shame. His eyes could see nothing more than the mistakes he had made over the years. He longed for love, but how could he ever expect anyone to see the real him when he couldn't even see himself? How could he ever expect love? His days were spent in a blind prison, himself holding the only key.

Anabel, had been broken. Her sentence was a lifetime of self-doubt brought about by unhealthy reactive impulses and constant berating of herself to the tune of a dying mind and an ineffective heart. She thought of herself as nothing no one would ever want. She, too, held the only key to her self-sentenced blind prison.

And then came a day, by chance, the two lost hearts bumped into one another. The result of a stumble that destiny had planned for them. Anabel's loss of balance landed her into the surprised arms of the saddened Arlaic. He could not see the person who had taken him by surprise, but within seconds, he noticed the fragrance she wore. It was pleasing to his senses. He felt her embrace, as she attempted to steady herself. Her touch was warm and inviting.

"I am so very sorry," she apologized, not being able to see him either.

Her voice sounded so sincere and genuine to Arlaic's ears. Its tone calming his initial fright.

"It, it's alright," he spoke.

Anabel eventually steadied her footing and started to move away but something held her in place. A need to feel this very moment, a feeling she had been desperately craving, stopped her in her tracks. She embraced it and then moved her hand from his shoulder and allowed it to slide down to his elbow where she stilled it and tightened her grip again, just enough to inform him that she intended to let it remain.

Arlaic felt uncomfortable but comfortable at the same time. Her soothing touch felt familiar, yet they had only just met.

"I am no good," he said. "I am speckled with guilt and mistakes."

Anabel sighed, heavily.

"And I ... am painted with shame and an ugly past. Unfortunately, I held the brush."

They both lowered their heads but not their touch.

Arlaic thought for a moment and asked, "Do you still hold the brush in your hand?"

She let go with one hand and lifted it up to her face but could not see.

"I, I think that I may still hold it, I don't know."

"Let me help you find out."

He reached for her hand and brought it to his blind eyes, placing her palm to his face. Still holding the back of her hand, he gently applied pressure and asked, "What is your name?"

She sighed.

"Anabel."

"Anabel, I do not see a portrait, only a blank canvas. Your picture can be repainted to whatever you wish."

She removed their hands from her face, rolled them, and placed his on her face, the same, adding pressure.

"Now let's see if you're still speckled. What is your name?"

He answered. She thought in silence.

"I do not see any speckles, Arlaic. Perhaps they are all gone."

They each thought in silence. Anabel repositioned her arms around Arlaic's waist. He followed suit, wrapping his around her shoulders.

"I think I would like to start seeing you, Anabel," he said to her.

"I would like to be seen," she replied with a smile.

They each forgave themselves, unlocked their prison doors, and received much needed love, which enabled them to give it in return. They could finally see again. They first had to see themselves worthy.

[This image could have very easily prompted me to write in the nature of their love for one another, but I felt it necessary to focus more so on each of their self-forgiveness, in order to move forward. I felt it gave the story more depth. Isn't today the perfect day to forgive yourself and reclaim self-love?]