Close Your Eyes

Prompt from A Writer's Book of Days: Close your eyes. Write about what you see.

It's hard to write with your eyes closed.

When I close my eyes I see faces. I see my kids begging me to play, and the little girl I held in Africa. I see friends, I see the guy I like, and I see the person I pretend to be, when nobody is looking.

When I close my eyes I see some place warm and comforting. I see the comforting pale brown of warm milky tea. I see the bustle of busy people, oblivious to me, moving about their day. I see a market place, with people working, the smell of exotic foods and familiar comforts, at lunch hour.

I see a confusing crowd with everybody knowing where their they're going, except for me. I see business and colors. I see red. I see energy. I see noisy.

I hear a million voices at once. I'm torn in a billion directions, and find myself grasping desperately for a single idea to chase down or simply a moment of peace. I see nothing in particular and every thing at once, and find myself wanting the blissful peace of nothing on my mind.

It's like at night when I try to sleep but my mind won't let me. As soon as I close my eyes my mind is racing, showing off its speed, dancing from thought to thought as if I could forget how quick it is, as if I really want to race the million threads of color darting through my head.