Michael once told me that he saw the world through invisible lines. I didn’t know what he meant at first, not even a little bit, but now I see them too.
They’re laid out all around us, silently a step ahead. And although we can’t see them, we feel their presence every day and always. Sometimes we don’t notice them, as what lies behind is too distracting for us to falter. Sometimes we choose to ignore them, because the picture they cover is too beautiful for us to let go.
But sometimes those lines appear before us and what we see between them is not what we saw before. They highlight importance. They reveal shadows. They cover the things that aren’t ready to be seen.
Michael told me about what would happen if I chose to acknowledge those lines. He told me that I would see the world differently. He told me that it would never be the same again.
I wanted to see what he saw, feel what he felt, learn what the world taught him. And I didn’t realise it then. But I do now. Michael wasn’t just telling me his secret. He wasn’t opening a door for me to walk through. He wanted out, to reach me on the simpler side.
It was a warning.
Because once you choose to see the invisible lines, they never disappear. They are always there, in the corner of your eye, a grey cloud slipping over the sun
They’re there behind every painted smile, beneath every unmeant word, under each footstep in the wrong direction. And like a constant tap on your shoulder, you’ll forever know.
There was something they were once trying to hide.